 | CHAPTER I.
THE HALF BROTHERS. The cruiser of the mist |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
THE HALF BROTHERS.
On one of those brilliant mornings peculiar
to the early autumnal days, when
the atmosphere is like chrystal in transparency,
and the skies are turgid with their
leepest blue, two persons stood together
upon an eminence that commanded the
Bay of Raritan and a wide expanse of the
ocean horizon to the eastward.
They were both young men, though
there was two or three years difference in
their ages. The junior had scarcely passed
his nineteenth year. He was a youth
of a delicate appearance, with beauty of
feature and person almost feminine. His
figure was slender and elegant, and his air
was gentle and confiding. There was a
world of soul speaking from the depths of
his large blue eyes, and every movement
of his fine mouth betrayed the most exquisite
sensibility. His hair was of a bright
shining brown, and was worn free from
the scissors' profanation, about his white
neck, its rich masses mocking the proudest
tresses of the fairest maiden. The
hands were exquisitely formed and like
pliant ivory. Upon one of the fingers
sparkled a diamond, the only ornament he
wore. Notwithstanding the delicacy of
his appearance, and the extreme fairness
and beauty of his countenance, there was
in his look an expression of decision, a certain
air of resolution, that indicated a great
and noble spirit. His effeminacy seemed
to be on the outer side only, to lay in that
which nature had made him, rather than in
any deficiency of manly character. It was
a house of beauty, in which dwelt the soul
of a hero.
His companion was taller and of more
imposing stature and aspect. He was
about one-and-twenty, but with the physical
development of a man two or three
years older. His complexion, unlike that
of the youth, was dark, his eyes black and
full of restless fire, and his air and looks
spirited and daring. In legitimate beauty
of aspect, he was not surpassed by the
other, though his face was as brown as a
gypsy's, and his hair as raven black as that
of a young Indian chieftain; and, indeed,
he not a little resembled in aspect and
bearing a Logan or an Osceola.
Both of the young men were clad in
suits of mourning. The place upon which
they were standing was a slight eminence
at the extremity of the grounds of a country
seat which was partly visible through
the trees in their rear. To their right, not
far distant, was visible the picturesque
town of Perth Amboy, with its rural spire,
and to their left stretched away northward
the Jersey main. Opposite was the wood-crowned
cape of the island, and passing it,
the eye took in the range of Raritan Bay,
and the sparkling sea beyond Sandy Hook.
The rich beauty of the early morning, the
dark green shores of the vast island on the
other side of the channel; the lively landscape
of town and hamlet, villa and farmhouse;
the shining waters of the flowing
river that mingled its wave with those of
the bay at their feet; the fisher's skiff
glancing by; the distant sail; the sea-gull
with flashing wing; all contributed to
draw forth the heart's best emotions in
manifestation of gratitude and delight.
But the countenances of the two young
men were troubled. The younger stood
pensively leaning against an old oak that
overshadowed the verdant spot where they
were, while the latter, with folded arms
and dark brow, paced to and fro a few feet
from him.
At length the former, raising his beautiful
eyes, filled with sadness and anxiety,
spoke:
“My dear Randolph, this grief, nay this
anger on your part is wholly unnecessary.
I am willing to share with you half of the
patrimony!”
“You are kind, kind and noble, brother,
like yourself; but I cannot accept it. Nay
—hear me. I cannot accept from you
that which is by right mine own. Against
you I have no anger—no ill feeling. Although
we have different mothers, we are
children of the same father, and are brothers.
I do not blame you. I only blame,
aye—if I dared curse her who —”
“Randolph! do not curse! Forget not
that she is my mother!” cried the youth,
placing his jewelled forefinger upon his
brother's lips.
“I will not curse her for your sake, Arthur!
But you know how deeply I am
wronged!”
“I know it, Randolph; I feel for you, and
I repeat to you that I am ready to do you
that justice which you have been denied!”
“Justice should have been extended to
wards me by my weak, misguided father.
But I will not speak thus bitterly lest I
curse my father also. But Arthur, this is
a grief heavy to bear—a disappointment I
was little prepared to meet, though I might
have foreseen it from my knowledge of the
ambitious and avaricious spirit of my stepmother!”
“She is my mother, brother!”
“True, true! I will not speak ill of her
before your gentle ears, Arthur!”
Thus speaking, he once more resumed
his walk at the foot of the oak, grief and
resentment struggling together in his expressive
face. Arthur watched his looks
with deep solicitude, but suffered him to
pursue in silence his stern and troubled
thoughts.
The father of these two young men belonged
to one of the oldest American families
which had been for a century distinguished
for its opulence and patriotism.—
Their grandfather, Colonel Ledyard, was
a distinguished officer of the revolution,
and was slain at the capture of a redoubt
which he had bravely defended to the last
extremity. Their father, General Ledyard,
but a few weeks before the opening
of this story, at the close of the war of
1812, had returned to his estate near Perth
Amboy, crowned with honors and with a
distinguished military reputation.
Although a brave man and a skilful soldier,
he possessed a weakness which converted
his household into a scene of unhappiness.
Early in life he had wedded a
young and beautiful woman, nearly allied
by blood to Leni Lenape, a celebrated
chief of the Six Nations, being the daughter
of Sir Harold Howe, who had married
this chief's daughter. Randolph was the
issue of this union. A year after his birth
his mother died, and in two years afterwards
General Ledyard married a lady of
distinguished beauty, but of a proud and
ambitious spirit. She had birth and family
reputation to recommend her to his notice,
but was almost without a bridal portion.
He was fascinated by her beauty,
and she by his wealth. It was a union on
At length the wife became a mother.
From this hour all the ambition of
her nature was awakened in behalf of her
own child, and by the aid of a deep and
well arranged scheme she succeeded in
withdrawing the affection of the father
from his first-born, and fixing it upon the
second boy. Being a woman of a strong
mind, and possessed of infinite tact and
subtlety, she was not long in gaining that
ascendancy over the mind of her infatnated
husband, which placed her at once in
the throne of domestic rule. Randolph
was sent away to a boarding-school before
he was in his seventh year, and all the
affections and attentions of the parents
were lavished upon Arthur. His wonderful
beauty endeared him still more to his
father, while each day the image of his
eldest child faded more and more from his
memory.
General Ledyard was not, however,
wholly lost to that parental regard which
nature called upon him to bestow upon his
absent child. Once a year Randolph was
brought home to remain during the Christmas
holidays; and the general firmly insisted
on this privilege for the supplanted
boy, although in opposition to the wishes
of his wife. These visits of the young
Randolph were seasons of great joy to
him. He looked forward to them for
months, and loved to remember them long
after his return from school. During these
visits his father, as if in some atonement
for his neglect and injustice, took pains to
contribute all in his power to his happiness;
and although his step-mother did
not conceal her dislike to his presence, he
managed to enjoy his vacations; for so
long as his father smiled upon him, he little
heeded the frowning brows of his wife.
He therefore remembered the one with dislike,
the other with love; for he was not
yet old enough to see and understand the
injustice done him by his misguided father.
On these occasional visits he formed a
strong and abiding attachment for the little
Arthur, who unconsciously was supplant
ing his brother in the regard of his father.
The child loved him in return with a pure
and touching affection; and thus they
grew up friends and brothers, bound together
by ties of the tenderest affection.
Years passed on, and Randolph was
sent to college, while Arthur remained at
home under the charge of tutors. Randolph
graduated with honor, and returned
to his father's roof. It was just before the
close of the war with England, and his father
was still in the army, though daily
expected to return.
The reception of the young heir at Lenape
manor was cold and repulsive on the
part of his step-mother; but as this was
what Randolph looked for from her, it did
not distress him. Arthur received him
with open arms, and the tenderest expressions
of fraternal affection. Randolph was
now in his twenty-first year, and just entering
the world as a man, and fitted by
education to act his part upon its stage
with honor. He was now fully capable of
viewing his own attitude in his father's
house, and clearly comprehending the secret
motive which had banished him from
childhood from his paternal halls. Yet he
loved Arthur no less, nor felt less attachment
to his father, whose weakness he
saw had thus exiled him from those joys
of home which Arthur alone had shared.
Towards his brother he harbored none but
the kindliest feelings. He loved him, aside
from all this, and he felt he could never
cease to love him. He knew that he was
innocent of his father's estrangement towards
himself, and he well knew the generous
and noble attributes of his head and
heart. There was no spirit of rivalry, no
envy, no suspicion in his breast towards
him. All his hostility was directed towards
her whom he was well aware was
the proper object of his reproaches and resentment.
Towards his father he entertained
the same affection and respect
which had grown up with him from childhood;
and while he censured him for his
weakness in submitting to his wife's rule,
he loved and honored him for the kindness
home, and for the indulgences which he
bestowed upon him during the period of
his stay at the university.
Randolph had been a few days at home,
in the enjoyment of the society of his brother
Arthur, whom he loved for his beauty
and gentleness with the tenderness of a
brother for a sister, when one evening as
he was waiting for Arthur to join him in a
row upon the water, a servant appeared
and said that Arthur could not come.
“Is he ill?” asked Randolph with quick
affection.
“I think he is not; but he bade me say
he was engaged.”
“This is singular, when he proposed the
sail himself. I will go in and see him!”
Thus speaking, Randolph re-entered the
house and hastened to his brother's room.
The door was locked. He called to him,
and at first received no reply; at length
Arthur answered and bade him “go away
and not disturb him, but to sail alone if he
wished to sail!”
Such a reply from his beloved brother
he had never before received; and he was
struck with amazement.
“Arthur, can it be possible that is your
voice?” he cried with a tone that expressed
eloquently his surprise.
“Yes, sir. I do not wish to go with you.
Do not annoy me!”
Randolph knew not what to make of this
conduct in one who had been hitherto all
affection towards him. He was about to
give some angry reply, when he checked
himself, silently walked through the hall to
the terrace and took his way at a quick step
towards the water-side. He felt more grief
than anger. He wondered wherein he had
offended his brother. There was a path by
the shore, shady and retired, into which he
turned his steps. It was a favorite walk
both of Arthur and himself. Here he paced
to and fro till twilight, revolving in his mind
his conduct, recalling his words and actions,
to ascertain how he had drawn upon himself
his brother's resentment; for the displeasure
of those we love and who have
loved us, is the deepest grief the heart can
bear. In this examination he acquitted
himself.
“I will see Arthur! I will demand an
explanation! I will know what I have
done; and if I have offended, I will ask his
forgiveness! I cannot endure this suspense!”
With this resolution he hastened towards
the house. Before he had gone twenty
steps, he saw his brother walking with his
mother in a retired path. They seemed to
be closely engaged in conversation. She
was leaning upon his arm. The shadows
of the trees near him shielded him from
their observation; and they advanced towards
the spot where he stood. He withdrew
to a covert of laurels, for he did not
come to meet Arthur, except when he was
alone.
“I will let them pass on, and when they
separate I will speak to my brother,” he
said, as he stepped back from the walk.
They came nearer, walking slowly.—
Madame Ledyard was a tall and stately
woman, with a queenly look, and a face
still of great beauty; but its expression
was cold and haughty, and full of worldliness.
Her ambitious and selfish character
was stamped indelibly amid the lines
of beauty. They came nearer, so that he
could now hear their words. Her face
was flushed, and wore an angry air, while
his was pale, and bore an expression of
deep sorrow and pain. He was listening
to her with anxious attention.
“There is nothing, my son, but such guarded
treatment towards him, that will save
your life. You cannot be blind to his hypocrisy.
He assumes the garb of love that he
may hold you in his grasp when he would.
He knows that you are loved better than
himself, and his fiery soul seeks revenge
upon you. It was for this that he invites
you upon the water. It is the easiest thing
for a boat to upset and to call it accident!”
“My dear mother, this suspicion, I again
repeat, is unworthy of Randolph. He is
noble and true. I asked him to go on the
water—not he me! I know he loves me
our father loves me most. I will
love him instead of my father's love. All
you say only weakens my suspicions and
fears. I am sorry I spoke to him as I did
when he came for me. But your story of
his duplicities was just ended, and impressed
my mind with horror. You are
deceived in him, my dearest mother! Randolph
is incapable of any wrong towards
me; and as soon as he returns to the
shore, I will cast myself into his arms, and
ask his forgiveness!”
“Arthur, you will offend me! You are
as vacillating as the wind. What changes
your opinion, when, an hour ago, you believed
all I told you?”
“Your assertions made since, have each
one served to weaken your first general
statement of my brother's desire to take
my life. It was I that proposed to go a
gunning yesterday; it was I that proposed
the sail this evening; it was I that wished
to mount the young horse that threw me,
while Randolph would have deterred me
from backing him. You do not love my
brother, dear mother, and you easily think
evil of him!”
“Well, you will find yourself in peril
yet through too much confidence in this
fierce and revengeful young man, Arthur.
It is at the risk of my displeasure that you
associate with him again. The general
will be at home in a day or two, and I hope
then he will have something to do, besides
plot your death!”
“I do not believe Randolph has any
evil thought against me, dear mother!”
cried Arthur, warmly.
“Bless you, Arthur, my noble Arthur,
for that word!” exclaimed Randolph, suddenly
appearing before them.
The two brothers rushed into each
others arms.
“Forgive me, Randolph!”
“Freely! I have overheard all that
you have said in my defence. And you,
madam, I also forgive,” he said, turning
and fixing upon her pale face his deep
penetrating glance, “when you can forgive
yourself!”
“Arthur, come with me,” commanded
his step-mother, her voice trembling with
rage.
“Randolph, are we friends again?”
said the youth in a low tone, grasping his
hand.
“Yes, brother! I do not blame you! I
know where the evil influence works. I
only grieve, dear Arthur, that you should
have suspected me!”
“Never would I have accused you from
any other lips than my dear mother's! I
am sorry she does not love you. It shall
be my sweet task to undeceive her respecting
you, my brother. From this hour
—”
“We are brothers,” emphatically responded
Randolph, as he pressed Arthur's
hand between his own.
| CHAPTER I.
THE HALF BROTHERS. The cruiser of the mist | |