University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

Mary Mather.

The boy, that Munson was thus laboring to get
rid of, as we have seen in the last chapter, was no
other than Paul Redding, as may have already
been surmised. And perhaps no scheme however
deeply laid, could have promised better success
than the one which the Quaker had hit upon. A
youth, romantic in all of his feelings, buoyant with
hopes which misfortune had failed to quell, alive to
every delicate sensibility, and ardent in all of his
passions, was an easy instrument for the wily
hypocrite to play upon. Munson knew this; he
knew the inexperience of his victim, in regard to

the cunning world, and had heard some of his extravagant
notions of the enchantments of an artist's
life; he knew that the aspirant to art ever looked
with wistful eyes to Europe, and to Italy in particular,
as the artist's paradise. With this ground to
work upon, how easy to spread out the net that
would entangle the footsteps of the youth? And
Paul, flattered with a thousand dazzling dreams,
that only youth is heir to, how ready was he to
walk into the well-planned snare! He saw in
imagination all the splendors of Rome and Florence
rise before him! The works of Raphael, Titian,
and all the host of Italian masters were spread in
long splendid galleries before his eyes, and he
walked the storied streets of the “seven hill'd city,”
lost in admiration of her ruined temples; or wrapped
in the golden sunlight of his fancy, dreamed on
the banks of Arno. How enthusiastically did he
applaud the kindness of Nathaniel Munson, and
how deeply in his heart did he thank little Edith,
for he knew that her sweet voice must have had a
prominent part in persuading her father to this act
of generosity. Generosity indeed! ah, poor youth,
could he have known the pangs of untold grief that
were rending the bosoms of those who were bound
to him by the nearest ties of nature, how would he
have rather cursed than blest that shrivelled fiend,
the Quaker. Could he have seen poor little Edith,
sitting apart from all and weeping, those tears
might have dissolved the chain that was drawing
him on to his dark destiny! Could he have seen
poor Mary, struggling with ejaculations of broken
sentences, and failing to disentangle her words and
thoughts from the web of her brain, gaze tearfully,
pityfully, and imploringly into the face of Fitful, as
if to tell him with her eyes what her brain could
not shape into language; could he have seen Fitful
bending affectionately, like a parent over a little
child, catching at her words, and combining them
with her tears, her actions and her countenance,
and when he had gathered the dreadful meaning
break into his most fearful state of madness, and
rush wildly he knew not whither! Then could he
have seen that poor woman, sitting with her hands
clasped on her knees, and her pale, sorrowful face,
turned to heaven, motionless as a statue! his fantastic
dream had vanished like frost-work in the
sun, and he would have questioned the motives of a
stranger's kindness more closely.

But what is to save him now? Fitful is gone!
The poor woman sits secluded in her little chamber,
a more melancholy-looking thing than ever. Little
Edith, with a swelling, but hopeful, unsuspecting
heart, has taken leave of Paul, and seen him for
the last time, as she thinks, for years. Mr. Christopher
Scrapp, after occupying the space of an
hour, in giving very sage advice about the manner
of proceeding in a country, of which he knew little
else than the name, and hinting darkly about certain
complimentary stanzas, written by the renowned

Ichabod Inkleton, on the occasion of the departure
of a young friend to Europe, bade adieu to his
pupil.

Munson, with a sneaking leer on his countenance,
and his chin buried very deep in his neck-cloth,
walked arm in arm with Paul to the vessel, wishing
him all the way the greatest pleasure imaginable
in his voyage; and to Paul's heart-felt expressions
of gratitude, the Quaker humbly requested that he
would not “mention it.” The captain, who was
the old man with the iron hook introduced in the
last chapter, for some reason or other was not
about the vessel, and had left word that he would
not be there, until they should be ready to sail,
which would be on the following morning. Of
course Paul thought nothing of this, for the captain's
absence could be of no possible consequence to
him. He little guessed that the man with the iron
hook was fearful of awakening in the mind of the
youth some recollections of his childhood, and
possibly of being recognised as that not very amiable
character, “Fin.” He surmised wisely for
himself, since Paul had come to the conclusion that
the man whom he saw at the restaurateur, on the
evening of his first arrival in the city, was one and
the same with that individual of disagreeable memory.
But the first mate, Munson's hopeful son,
was there to play the part of captain; he, however,
was not over-officious in doing the honors. As
Paul scanned his coarse form from head to foot, he

involuntarily exclaimed to himself, “And can this
fellow, then, really be the own brother of little
Edith! he has not even called to see her, or pay her
any of the attentions that a brother should! However,
it is enough that he is her brother, and the
son of my generous friend, to entitle him to my
respect.”

This soliloquy was soon cut short by certain
startling altercations held between Nathaniel Munson,
Sen., and Nathaniel Munson, Jr., in which the
latter seemed to have the best of it, as he made no
hesitation to tell the old gentleman that he was a
mean, stingy lubber, all of which made Nathaniel
Munson, Sen., survey his progeny with an air of
deep satisfaction and pride, as though he would
challenge the world of fathers to produce such
another promising son. Munson, Jr., paid no attention
whatever to Paul; but after telling his affectionate
parent that he might emigrate to regions
that would not sound polite in delicate ears to
name, and there be in the same unpleasant condition
of those who had gone before him, turned
suddenly into the cabin. In the event of which,
Munson, Sen., took a most heart-rending leave of
Paul, and retraced his steps to the city, whilst the
young man walked the deck, contemplating the
scenes in his own brain much more than those
around him. O, how bright the world appeared
before him! not a shadow swept across his mind to
mar his fair hopes! With five hundred dollars

in his pocket, and the promise of a speedy remittance,
what had he now to fear? All the world
was wrapped in a golden halo, and the ocean over
which he had to cross, seemed but a path of
pleasure. He walked the deck slowly but proudly;
and you, who have achieved suddenly what for long
years of days and nights you have dreamed of,
hoping at one time, and at another deeming the
realization almost an impossibility, or at least far,
far before you, may appreciate the feelings of the
youth, how his heart swelled, and his brain throbbed
with pleasure! The evening was coming on,
and Paul was reminded that that was the last twilight
which would gather around him in his own
native land for months, if not for years, to come.
He stood gazing at the long row of houses, while
the tide of darkness filled up the little alley-ways
and recesses of whatever description, when he
observed, at a neighboring corner, a mysterious
hand beckoning ever and anon, and then the head
of a female was visible for a moment, but it dodged
quickly back again. While the arm was still extended
and beckoning, the head appeared three or
four times, and the hand moved unceasingly for
several minutes, before Paul could make up his
mind to answer the summons; but at last he stepped
ashore, and walked toward the woman, who, when
she saw him coming, retreated slowly, but still
beckoning him on, until she glided into a very small,
dark passge, and discovered to the youth, by her
manner and tones of voice, that strange creature,
“poor Mary.” Paul knew not what to make of
this singulr interview; her words were incoherent,
and she seemed even excited, a state in which he
had never seen her before. He could understand,
however, that she said something of Fitful, and
gathered from her, words something like these:
“Fitful — home — go — see — must — must, now,
to-night!” The woman drew her cloak closely
around her, and passed swiftly on, and Paul, impelled
by his sympathies, not only for her, but for
the strange man, whose name she uttered, made
no hesitation to follow. Having arrived at Fitful's
apartment, they found the poor man in the greatest
state of agony. He was leaning against the wall
beating the air with his hands; but when he saw
the youth, he embraced him, and sobbed like a
child, and then grew gradually calm again, but he
was not yet what Paul had seen him in his better
moments. Mary gazed on the two with almost an
expression of gladness, if, indeed, her sorrowful face
could at any time assume a different look from its
habitual one. It was a melancholy sight to see
those two strange creatures striving to be glad. It
was a sadder sight as they tried to explain to the
youth a part of a dreadful secret. The poor
woman endeavored to communicate her thoughts
by the wild motions of her hands, and Fitful succeeded
but little better with the free use of language.
But, at last, he gave Paul to understand,
that he must not return to the vessel, but stay where
he was for that night, at least. The youth, who
could see no possible reason for such a movement,
and considered what Fitful had told him about evil
designs and the like, but the wild fancies of a
fevered brain, remonstrated somewhat against this
arrangement, until the other, to satisfy him at once,
asked him, if he did not remember a dark, ugly
man, the enemy of his father.

Paul replied, with no little astonishment, that he
did remember such a man.

“And that man's name,” continued Fitful, “was
Fin!”

“In Heaven's name, how knew you that?” cried
Paul.

“No matter,” said Fitful, “no matter for the
present; but be satisfied, and stay where you are,
when I tell you that that dark man, Fin, is the
captain of that vessel! Thank this poor woman,
who has providentially saved you from the jaws of
a shark! Yes, literally a shark!”

“If such is the fact, I do indeed thank her!”
cried Paul, still lost in amazement.

“Well, well, sit down,” said Fitful, “sit down,
and I 'll explain as much as I can, conveniently, for
the present; at least, enough to satisfy you. Therefore,
sit down, and be calm.”