University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

Anonymous.

We pass over without comment the lapse of
several years, in which no event of moment occurred
to ripple the calm surface of our hero's life.

The tender regard of his adopted parents increased
with the development of his intellectual
capacities, which were of a high order; while his
aptitude for the mercantile profession, and the
strict attention which he gave to the discharge of
his duties, rendered him a valuable auxiliary in the
counting-room of Mr. de Lyle.

Having premised thus much, it becomes necessary
to change the scene to the interior of one of

those spacious and comfortable, although somewhat
antiquated, mansions which were erected by our
forefathers in an early period of our country's
history. The dwelling referred to was situated in
the State of Massachusetts, near the city of Boston,
so justly celebrated for the gallantry and patriotism
with which its inhabitants resisted the encroachments
of arbitrary power on the first dawning of
the revolution, and no less renowned for the intelligence
and public spirit which have raised it to so
commanding a station in the annals of American
literature.

It was in the afternoon of one of those beautiful
winter days in which the usual frown of the ice
king is changed to a sunny smile, the more captivating
from its rarity, that an elderly lady and
gentleman, on whose features the remains of former
beauty still lingered, sat by the side of a brisk
coal fire, that blazed cheerfully in the well-furnished
and brass-mounted grate.

The gentleman had not more than reached his
fiftieth year, and the lady was somewhat his junior;
but the traces of care and anxiety had anticipated
the ravages of time, so that a casual observer would
have undoubtedly assigned them a more advanced
period in life. To a tall and commanding person
Mr. Borrowdale (the gentleman now introduced)
united bland and courteous manners; but the sudden
flash of his dark eye and the haughty curl of his
lip evinced an ardent and unconquerable spirit,

whose lofty soarings might be curbed, but whose
indomitable energies could never be subdued.

The lady, on the contrary, displayed a meekness
and resignation of the most winning character; but
the calm lustre of her full blue eye attested that to
the purity of her soul, and not to its stolidity, was
her amiable and unresisting deportment to be attributed.

The dwelling thus occupied had been erected by
a wealthy Boston merchant, while that city was
yet in the incipient stage of its commercial history,
and was purchased by its present proprietor and
occupant many years previous to the period now
alluded to.

Mr. Borrowdale was a native of an adjoining
state, in which he had resided until his removal to
his present domicil, where he passed his days in
retirement on the income of a large estate. Descended
from a noble and aristocratic family in
Great Britain, the father of Mr. Borrowdale, who
was a younger brother, had early in life become
deeply imbued with the principles of democracy;
and, in consequence of a rupture that occurred between
himself and his relatives, originating in the
difference of their political views, he emigrated to
America, where he married an amiable and accomplished
lady, by whom he had two sons, of whom
the gentleman just introduced to the reader was
the younger.

When the wheels of the revolution first received
their impulse, the elder Mr. Borrowdale entered

zealously into the views of the colonists, and soon
attained the rank of brigadier-general in the continental
army, in which he distinguished himself as
an intrepid and able officer. At the close of the
war he purchased a large tract of land, which increased
in value with such rapidity that he found
himself in the possession of an ample fortune, and
retired to the bosom of his family, where he reposed
in quiet until death closed his career of usefulness.
Thus his son became possessed in early life of a
perfect independence; and all that was known of
his subsequent history in the neighbourhood where
he resided was limited to the fact, that he came to
their vicinity with an amiable and accomplished lady
and an interesting little daughter, then an infant,
who so far occupied his attention that he seldom
made visits to the surrounding gentry. This reserve
was at first regarded as the result of pride or
misanthropy; but a farther knowledge of the amiable
couple removed the impression, and to some unknown
source of unhappiness was at length universally
ascribed their desire to enjoy the consolations
of retirement. Although Mr. Borrowdale and his
lady visited only the indigent and afflicted in their
neighbourhood, for the purpose of ministering to
their necessities, yet, when their kind-hearted neighbours
called at their dwelling, they were ever received
with melancholy courtesy, and, while they
failed to return such visits, they cheerfully permitted
their lively and affectionate daughter to cultivate
the intimacy and respond to the calls of her
youthful associates.

Thus calmly flowed on the current of their lives,
until their daughter had attained her sixteenth year,
at which epoch we have introduced them to the
notice of the reader.

“Pomp,” said Mr. Borrowdale to a sable son of
Africa, who was brushing the dust from the grate,
“run to the door and see if Julia is yet coming.
The afternoon is far spent, and I think it time for
her to return.”

“Yes, massa,” said the well-fed and petted servant;
“I go durrecly.”

Again wielding the duster, he leisurely arranged
the fire-irons to his liking, and stretching himself
up to his full height, viz., five feet four, he surveyed
the tout ensemble of the fireplace and its appertenances,
and appearing to be satisfied with the
effect, slowly prepared to do the bidding of his indulgent
master.

The mansion of Mr. Borrowdale was situated on
the brow of an eminence, which overlooked the suburbs
of Boston, and the piazza commanded the avenue
which led to the city for the distance of nearly
two miles. No sooner had the negro reached the
piazza, than, uttering a dismal shriek, he rushed into
the parlour where Mr. and Mrs. Borrowdale were
sitting, and shouted at the top of his voice,

“Oh! massa, massa! young missus be kill!
oh golly, for why de foolish niggur no go wid young
missus; oh golly, golly.”

Leaping from their seats in an agony of apprehension,
the agitated parents rushed to the piazza,
and beheld a scene that might appal the stoutest
heart. Climbing the ascent that lay between their
position and the city came their span of high-mettled
steeds, lashed to their utmost swiftness, and
dragging the sleigh, in which sat their daughter, unchecked
by rein or driver, their nostrils distended,
their eyeballs starting from their sockets, their
manes streaming in the wind, their well-defined
sinews lacing their symmetrical limbs, and their
whole action developing mingled fear and phrensy.

Her distracted parents had not reached the piazza
when the uncurbed coursers rushed by with the
speed of the whirlwind, followed by the dark form
of Pomp, whose attempts to arrest them with shouts
of “Who! who!” so far from accomplishing the
intended purpose, only accelerated their speed, while
the sharp ring of their hoofs echoed from their contact
with the frozen earth.

In the sleigh sat the lovely Miss Borrowdale,
pale as a marble statue, her fingers clasping either
side of the light vehicle with convulsive tenacity,
her chiselled and colourless lips parted by the intensity
of her emotions; but over her pallid features
shone a calm, holy resignation, which rendered the
peril of her situation, if possible, the more vivid and
appalling.

At the harrowing sight Mrs. Borrowdale swooned,
and if her husband had not caught her falling form,
she would have been precipitated from the steps of

the elevated piazza. Scarcely had the fainting lady
been removed to the parlour, before the loud voice
of Pomp was heard exclaiming,

“Oh massa, massa, young missus safe; she no
kill.” And so intent was the affectionate black on
communicating the welcome tidings, that he came
near overturning his master, who was proceeding for
a tumbler of water with which to restore his lady's
suspended vitality.

The slight concussion caused by Pomp's contact
with Mr. Borrowdale was but past, when the sleigh
and horses, that had rushed by with such speed,
and their fair burden, were driven up to the door by
a young gentleman, a stranger to the parties, who
had caught the terrified animals at the risk of his
life; and, just as Mrs. Borrowdale had recovered
from her insensibility, her agitated daughter rushed
into her arms. To scenes such as immediately
succeeded her entrance, no pen can render justice,
and we therefore leave our readers to judge of the
rapture of all parties at the unhoped-for rescue of
the young lady, without injury, from her perilous
situation.

After the first burst of joy was past, Mr. Borrowdale
turned to the young gentleman to whose
gallantry he was indebted for the preservation of his
daughter from an awful death, and, grasping both
his hands, he could only exclaim, “God bless you,
my young friend,” when he was compelled to avert
his face to conceal the tears which found their way
down his manly cheek. To relieve the agitated

family from the embarrassment consequent on the
presence of a stranger at such a moment, the young
gentleman framed an excuse for leaving the room
to attend to the condition of the foaming horses,
when the happy family gave full vent to those tender
emotions which the events that had just transpired
were so well calculated to excite.

On the stranger's return to the drawing-room
Mr. Borrowdale requested to know the name of his
daughter's deliverer, and was informed that it was
Sydney Clifton (for it was no other than our hero);
but, on being overwhelmed with compliments for
his spirit and gallantry, he insisted that the service
he had rendered was much overrated, and that,
to one possessing ordinary presence of mind, the attempt
to arrest the career of runaway horses was
unattended with any especial danger. This modest
estimate of his activity and courage tended to increase
the favourable impression with which Mr. Borrowdale
regarded Clifton, who he determined should
be his guest at least for the night. This was acceded
to by the invited party, but he was obliged first
to visit a merchant residing near Mr. Borrowdale,
with whom he had a business engagement, and
whose dwelling he had but reached when the danger
of Miss Borrowdale caused his successful attempt
at her rescue.

On leaving the house he found his right ankle,
which had been sprained in the effort, becoming so
painful, that he would be unable to walk for even
the limited distance that intervened between the

dwellings of Mr. Borrowdale and the Boston merchant.
Pomp, however, settled the difficulty by
conveying him in the sleigh that still stood at the
door.

While Sydney was absent, Miss Borrowdale informed
her parents that, on her return from the
city, the driver was accidentally thrown from his
seat at the distance of about two miles from their
residence, so that the negro had probably discovered
the accident almost at the moment of its occurrence.

As Clifton had considerable business to transact
with the merchant whom he visited, and who was
a correspondent of Mr. de Lyle's, the evening was
far spent before his return; and on entering the
parlour of Mr. Borrowdale he could no longer
conceal the pain caused by his injured limb, which
was much swollen and inflamed. Fortunately, Mrs.
Borrowdale was sufficiently skilled in the treatment
of even more formidable injuries of the like character;
and under her directions he retired to a chamber
prepared for his reception, and after applying
the remedies recommended by his worthy hostess,
he retired to his couch, but for a considerable time
was unable to rest, not so much in consequence of
the sprained limb as from the action of certain novel
and undefined sensations in his bosom, with which
the bright eyes of Julia Borrowdale were most
strangely blended. Tossing from side to side, he
endeavoured to woo the influence of the drowsy
god, in which he at length succeeded; but even in

the shadowy land of dreams the image of the fair
girl appeared again in the foreground of the vision,
endowed with a host of attractions in addition to
those which so thickly clustered around her corporeal
presence.