University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

The whole neighborhood assembled at the funeral of
Major Heyward, and it was a melancholy sight to
behold the same individuals, who but two days before
had mingled together on a festive occasion, now collected
to pay the last sad duties to one of the most conspicuous
of the number. The feelings excited by this
reflection, were rendered the more vivid, by the awful
nature of the catastrophe which had occurred; and as
the sad procession moved silently away to the family
burial-place, an uninterrupted silence pervaded the company.
The deceased had been universally loved and
respected. His age, his wealth, and his standing in
society, had given him an influence over those around
him, which had been honestly and kindly exercised, and
although he held no official station, it was felt that his
decease was a public loss. Another must inherit his
wealth, and sway its influence; but would his conciliatory
spirit descend to his heir, and his virtues be practised
by the inheritor of his estate? Such were the
mingled sensations of those who followed the remains
of this excellent man to their last earthly receptacle.

But that intensity of feeling, which, on the occurrence
of an unexpected and strikingly melancholy event,
absorbs for a while all other subjects, and employs every
faculty of the mind, is of brief continuance. The practice
observed at military funerals, of marching to the

grave with solemn music, and returning from it with
cheerful, inspiring notes, is natural, and beautifully
expressive of human character; for it is thus that the
heart of man throws off the burthen of sorrow, and
though bowed low for the moment, regains its cheerfulness,
as the flower, weighed down by the morning dew,
erects itself as the sun exhales the incumbent moisture.
As the mourners retired from the grave, the silence
which had prevailed among them began to be broken, and
curiosity, which had heretofore been suppressed by grief
and astonishment, became audible. A thousand surmises
and reports, touching the fatal accident, were
repeated and canvassed. Every one had his own version
of the catastrophe, and its attendant circumstances.

“Have you heard the particulars?” inquired an old
lady, in a tremulous tone, and conveying the remainder
of the inquiry by a mysterious shake of the head.

The person addressed applied her handkerchief to her
eyes, and only ejaculated the words, “too shocking!”

“One hardly knows what to believe, there are so
many stories,” said an old maid.

“I am told,” said a gentleman, “that our lamented
friend has lately been in the habit of reading in bed, and
it is supposed, that, having received some letters, which
he had not had time to examine sooner, he had caused
a light to be placed by his bed-side—”

“All a mistake,” cried colonel Antler, “no man
of sense ever went to bed to read letters; my worthy
friend rose at day-break, and retired early to his pillow
for repose.”

“He was a man of plethoric habit,” said a consumptive

gentleman, who now intruded his ghostly form between
the last two speakers, “very plethoric—and you
know, gentlemen, that such persons hold their lives by
a very uncertain tenure. Your full-fed, lusty, corpulent
men, are short-lived at best, and subject to very
sudden attacks. There is very little doubt that this was
a case of apoplexy, and that, in his struggles, a candle,
that happened to be within reach, was thrown
over—”

“That is all surmise,” said another speaker.

“Mere surmise,” rejoined yet another; “the truth
seems to be, that when Major Heyward was last seen
by his servants, he was sitting at a table covered
with papers, in his arm chair, with his spectacles
on—”

“I am sure that you must be misinformed,” cried a
lady, “for Mrs. Lee, who is very intimate with the
family, assured me that he had gone to bed fully two
hours before the alarm took place.”

“I spoke to the Major's body-servant, this morning,”
said colonel Antler.

“Oh! did you?”

“Then you know all about it!”

“Major Heyward, and Mr. Fennimore, the young
gentleman who was on a visit there, had some private
business, and retired to the Major's chamber, after
tea—”

“There!” cried a lady, “that is just what I heard.
The business was of a very mysterious character, was
it not, colonel.”

“I cannot say as to that.”

“But did you not hear that both the gentlemen became
very much irritated, and got to such high words
that Virginia Pendleton, becoming very much alarmed,
rushed into the room just as Major Heyward ordered
the young man to leave his house instantly.”

“No, madam, I did not hear that; and I am very
certain that Major Heyward never ordered a stranger to
leave his house in the night.”

“But, my dear sir, if he suspected the stranger of a
design to rob and murder him?”

“That, indeed, would alter the case.”

“Well, I assure you, sir, I had it from a lady who
heard it from a particular friend of the Walnut-Hill family,
that when this Mr. Fennimore arrived, Major Heyward
received him with great coldness, and was very
unwilling to permit him to stay all night.”

“Yet he introduced him to us the next day as his
friend.”

“That was very singular,” said the old maid.

“An act of wonderful imprudence in our benevolent
friend who is gone,” said the consumptive gentleman.

“It is quite mysterious, I declare,” continued the
lady, “but I am sure I cannot be mistaken—Major
Heyward and Miss Pendleton were sitting at tea, in the
front piazza, when the stranger rode up: `Is your
name Heyward?' said he. `That is my name,' said the
Major. `I have some business with you,' said the stranger.
`We will talk of business when I have nothing
else to do—you must call again,'—replied the Major.”

“I heard it a little differently,” interrupted another
lady—Major Heyward was walking on the lawn, and

Miss Pendleton was sitting in the piazza, talking with
George Lee, (you know they are to be married soon,)
when the stranger rode up, and inquired where Major
Heyward lived; the old gentleman replied, `That is the
house, and I am the man;' on which the stranger
remarked, `Not a bad-looking house, and quite a pleasant
landlord;—I believe I'll stay all night.”'

“The impudent rascal!” exclaimed the consumptive
gentleman.

“He has a forward look,” responded the old maid.

“I am sure you are mistaken,” said one of the former
speakers; for Mr. Lee does not go there now;
there is quite a serious coolness between the families.”

“Dear me, cousin! I'm sure you are altogether
wrong there—if you had seen them at the barbecue, you
would not have said that. Virginia refused to dance
with any one else; she refused several others, but
danced with him as soon as he asked her.”

“Straws show how the wind blows.”

“I believe you are right there; there has always
been a strong attachment between them.”

“Say rather a powerful attraction between Walnut-Hill
and Locust Grove. The estates are large, and we
all know what an excellent manager Mrs. Lee is.”

“Did you not hear it surmised that Major Heyward
has latterly entertained different views for Virginia, and
that Mr. Fennimore is the son of a wealthy merchant in
Philadelphia, and came by express invitation to see Miss
Pendleton?”

“La! no!”

“Yes, indeed, it is more than suspected.”

“Well, who would have thought it?”

“Then it was to marry Miss Pendleton, and not to
murder and rob the family, that this young gentleman
came?” said Colonel Antler.

“Oh—I had forgotten that. I am sure that this
Fennimore is nothing more nor less than an incendiary
—for I am told that Virginia, who was in a high fever,
and delirious all the next day, continually exclaimed,
`Take away that dreadful man! protect me from that
horrid wretch! He has murdered my uncle—he would
destroy us all!' and similar expressions.”

“Very strange, that! she certainly must know something.”

“The evidence of a young lady in a state of delirium,
is quite conclusive,” remarked Colonel Antler,
drily.

“It is certainly a curious fact,” said one of the gentlemen,
“that this Mr. Fennimore has entirely disappeared
since the fire, and that no one can give any
account of him.”

Colonel Antler seemed puzzled, while the rest of the
company united in considering this circumstance as one
of a most suspicious character.

“The young man is a stranger to me,” said the colonel;
“he may be a terrible fellow, for any thing I know
—but at the same time, I don't believe a word of it.
He looks like a gentleman, and no one ever heard of a
gentleman committing arson.”

“Then you do not believe that he fired the house
purposely?”

“Believe it! no: why should I believe it? what
object could the young man have?”

“His purpose undoubtedly was to run off with Virginia.
Incendiaries often set fire to houses, in order to
plunder them during the confusion. They say that as
soon as the alarm was given he rushed into Virginia's
apartment, caught her in his arms, and although she
screamed dreadfully, attempted to carry her off.”

“And what prevented him?”

“They say he forced her through a window, and
succeeded in reaching the roof of the piazza, where one
of his confederates was waiting to assist him in his villanous
design, when the screams of Virginia drew the
negroes to her relief, and they rescued her.”

“Poor Virginia, screaming bloody murder all the
while,” continued the consumptive gentleman.

“Poor Virginia!” echoed all the ladies.

“I am told, Colonel Antler, that no will can be
found.”

“All exertions to discover any trace of a will, have,
unhappily, been fruitless. Every gentleman who has
been on such terms of intimacy with Major Heyward,
as to render it likely that a document of that kind
might have been deposited with him, has been applied to
in vain. Mr. R., who has been his legal adviser for
many years, declares that a will was executed long
since, which he is sure remained in the possession of our
lamented friend, but declines giving any information as
to the contents.”

“Then Miss Pendleton will not be a great fortune,
after all.”

“Oh dear, what a pity!”

“Such a belle as she was!” exclaimed one of the old

maids; “I wonder if she will be as much admired
now.”

“Poor cousin Virginia!”

“Dear Virginia! how I feel for her! But you know,
Colonel, she had no right to expect any thing else. She
is not related to the Heywards, and there are a number
of heirs at law.”

“She had a right, madam!” replied Colonel Antler,
warmly; “if not related to Major Heyward, she is niece
to the late Mrs. Heyward, and their adopted daughter.
Major Heyward's intention of leaving his whole fortune
to her, has been declared so frequently, and is so well
understood, that no man of honor will dispute her
claim.”

“There will be claimants, I suppose, nevertheless.”

“Then they ought all to be—”

“Speak lower, Colonel: there are some of them
within hearing.”

“I care not who hears me. The girl was raised
under Heyward's roof, and is entitled to the estate; and
no true son of the Old Dominion would take it from
her.”

The conversation was here interrupted by the approach
of Mrs. Lee's carriage, containing that lady and
the unhappy Virginia. As the beautiful mourner passed
slowly along, a common feeling of sympathy for the
sudden and melancholy stroke of fortune, which had in
a single moment blighted her brilliant prospects, and
reduced her to sorrow and dependence, pervaded the
whole party; and dropping off, one by one, they
repaired silently to their respective dwellings.