University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
MR. BRANCE'S ADVENTURE.

It was about dusk of the same day on which
Mr. Roger Brance accosted the vagabond introduced
in the opening chapter of my story,
that he mounted a spirited horse at the door of
his elegant residence, and rode leisurely down
the avenue which communicated with the highway.

As he passed a dark clump of lilacs which
grew near the public road, his horse sheered in
sudden affright, and dashed through the gate
which stood open at the foot of the avenue.
Anxious to ascertain the cause of the animal's
terror, Mr. Brance wheeled about, and
rode back to the spot where he had taken
fright. As he approached the lilacs, the horse
snorted, pricked up his ears, and finally refused
to advance nearer, sheering and starting back
in a singular manner.

Looking in the direction of the object of the
animal's terror, Mr. Brance saw a dark figure
squatted under the shadow of the lilacs.

“Ho! there!” cried he, impatiently. “What
are you doing here? Who are you?”

Slowly the dark figure rose, and, without
making any reply, came out of its hiding-place,
and walked sullenly away.

“Who are you, I say?” demanded Mr.
Brance in a tone of authority, as he rode on
after him. “What business have you crouching
about my premises, and frightening my
horse?”

The man stopped abruptly, and poising his
staff in his right hand, looked up, glaring savagely
at Roger Brance.

“This is the second time you have driven
me off your premises,” muttered the vagabond.
“It is a hospitable country where a poor man
is not permitted to lie down in the open air!
But I am on the public road now, Mr Brance,
and I warn you not to molest me.”

“I'll not trouble you, insolent vagabond!”
cried Mr. Brance. “But you must keep out
of my way. If I find you on my premises
again, I'll have you horsewhipped.”

No sooner had he spoken than the enraged
vagabond raised his staff, and aimed a revengeful
blow at his head. Luckily, the horse

reared at the first movement of the angry man,
and, wheeling on his hind legs, received on his
shoulder the blow designed for his rider.
Foaming with rage, Mr. Brance endeavored
to ride over the strange man, but finding his
horse too skittish for the operation, he turned,
and riding furiously up the avenue, shouted to
some of his laborers to follow the beggar, and
beat him without mercy.

Fortunately for the skin of the vagabond,
Mr. Brance's laborers were very peaceable and
cautious men, who, instead of obeying his angry
orders immediately, stopped to reason with
him on the subject.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Brance,” said Tom
Clark, a peaceable, good-natured fellow; “although
the beggar man richly deserves whipping,
I don't think it belongs to us to give it to
him. When I hired out to you, I believe I
never agreed to thresh any thing but peas,
oats, and such like. If you've any human
beings to thresh, I don't see but you'll have to
hire somebody expressly for the job.”

With a muttered curse, Mr. Brance wheeled
about, and in no extraordinary good humor,
rode off towards the road. It was now too

dark to distinguish any object at a distance,
and as he looked cautiously about him, the
vagabond was nowhere to be seen. Putting
spurs to his horse, he then rode rapidly away
in the direction of the village.

Having called at the post office, Mr. Brance
dismounted at the favorite resort of the men of
pleasure in Verfield — the village tavern. As
he ascended the steps, he met Dr. Corrinton
coming out. The young man appeared much
excited, as he strode past the father of his rival,
and crossing the street, entered his office.

“What is the trouble now?” asked Mr.
Brance of the first man he met, who was no
other than Mr. Joseph Sorrel.

“It is a most exciting affair!” replied the
high-keyed voice of that young gentleman.
“The doctor, I believe, will kill somebody before
morning. I never saw a man so angry!”

“At what?” asked Mr. Brance.

“At some rather aggravating language,
which a certain gentleman used respecting
his character for courage,” answered Joseph.
“You see, sir, a certain gentleman had occasion
to call Corrinton a miserable coward, and
some friends of the doctor have just told him

of it. Really!” continued Mr. Sorrel, shrugging
his shoulders, “I don't think I could be
prevailed upon to stand in a certain gentleman's
shoes for any pecuniary amount you
could name. A certain gentleman, in my
opinion, had better be cautious how he gets in
the doctor's way; he might give him a dose
not altogether professional!”

“And who is that certain gentleman?” asked
Mr. Brance.

“Really, I hoped you would not ask me!”
exclaimed Joseph, stroking his upper lip.
“That certain gentleman is your son — Mr.
Appleton Brance.”

“As I expected!” muttered Mr. Brance.
“He is always getting himself into trouble.
Why the deuse couldn't he hold his tongue
about the doctor? But where is Appleton?”

“Half an hour ago, he rode out to Craw's
Corners, in company with some very gentlemanly
fellows who live out that way somewhere.”

The attention of the two speakers, who were
standing on the steps of the tavern, was attracted
by the stable boy, who appeared, leading
out Dr. Corrinton's horse, which he left at
the door of the doctor's office. Presently, Corrinton

leaped upon the animal, and riding off
at a rapid rate, disappeared in the darkness.

“I declare!” exclaimed Mr. Joseph Sorrel,
“the doctor has taken the road to Craw's Corners!
If he should happen to meet Mr. Appleton
Brance!”

“Curse the rashness of these boys!” muttered
Mr. Brance. “If they do happen to
meet, something besides words will be the
result.”

“There is one circumstance which should
not be overlooked,” said Joseph. “The young
men certainly have something to quarrel about.
I am a peaceable person myself; but I declare,
I don't know but I might be induced to
quarrel in the same cause. Really, cousin
Alice is the most charming girl!”

Mr. Brance was very much annoyed by the
threatened quarrel between the passionate
young men, and he could not help feeling
considerable anxiety to hear from his son that
evening.

After spending half an hour's time at the
tavern, without hearing from either Appleton
or the doctor, he mounted his horse, and rode
to the residence of the Sorrels, where he proposed
passing an hour or so with Mrs. Silby.

It was late in the evening when he took
leave of his intended bride and set out for
home. The night was calm and clear; there
was no moon, but the stars were bright in the
firmament. All Verfield appeared to have
gone to rest, as Mr. Brance pursued his way
leisurely homeward.

Arrived at the spot near the entrance to his
grounds, where his horse had shied before, he
was surprised to perceive that the skittish animal
again showed symptoms of terror. With
an angry exclamation, he spurred him forward;
but the horse snorted, and began to tremble
violently. Mr. Brance was no coward, but
when he thought that the revengeful vagabond
might be lying in wait for him, he began to
feel uneasy. In vain he tried to urge his horse
up the avenue, but nothing could compel the
terrified animal to advance.

Perplexed, angry, and not a little anxious to
ascertain what there was to fear, Mr. Brance
dismounted, and leading the horse by the
bridle, advanced cautiously to explore the way.
The object which evidently occasioned the
animal's terror was easily discovered. It was
a dark body stretched upon the ground; but

whether that of a man, or beast, or some inanimate
matter, Mr. Brance could not distinguish,
and the terror of his horse was such that he
was unable to approach near enough to examine
it.

There are few men who have not a coloring
of superstition, however slight, in their natures.
Mr. Brance was not free from this weakness.
Had he met an armed man, who demanded his
money, he would not have trembled; still, at
the sight of that mysterious object, which lay
so perfectly motionless in his way, he could
not help shivering. The darkness, the position
of the body, the terror of his horse, the solemn
stillness of every thing around, all contributed
to arouse superstitious fears. Carefully leading
his horse aside, he passed the dark object, and
hurried up the avenue. Once beyond the influence
of the cause of his uneasiness, Mr.
Brance, who possessed a cool brain, had an
opportunity to reflect calmly on the nature of
the circumstance. Ashamed of his fears, he
tied the skittish horse to a tree, and returned
immediately to examine the mysterious body.

On a near approach, he was satisfied that it
was the body of a man. After some hesitation

he advanced his foot, and touching it, said, in
an unsteady voice, —

“Halloo, here! Who are you?”

There was no reply — no motion of the mysterious
body. The echoes of Mr. Brance's
own voice frightened him. After a pause, he
summoned sufficient courage to stoop and lift
an arm, but it was so heavy that he dropped it
with a start.

“The man is dead!” thought Mr. Brance.
“It must be that miserable beggar! I'm glad
I didn't have him whipped — this might get
me into trouble.”

A moment after, he walked rapidly up the
avenue to his house, and knocked loudly at
the kitchen door. The inmates appeared to be
asleep, but a second alarm aroused them.
Tom Clark came down stairs half dressed, and
opened the door.

“Wake Brown,” said Mr. Brance, hurriedly,
“and bring a lantern.”

“What's in the wind?” asked Tom.

“There's a dead man lying on the ground
out here,” replied Mr. Brance.

“You don't, though!” cried the astonished
Mr. Clark. “I thought I heard a gun a little
while ago; but I'd no ide' —”

Mr. Brance made a gesture of impatience,
and Tom disappeared. He did not wait long;
and in a few minutes the two, together with
Brown, were walking down the avenue.

Brown carried a lantern, which cast a circle
of yellow light on the objects around them.
Mr. Brance led the way, and pointed out the
spot, where the body was found lying on its
face.

“The man must have been murdered,” said
Tom Clark, timidly. “Hadn't we better not
meddle with it till we have witnesses?”

“My God!” cried Mr. Brance, “it is not the
beggar! Brown, turn the body over!”

“I — I — I'd rather not,” said Brown, shivering.
“Are you sure he's dead?”

“I vow,” muttered Clark, “them clo's look
like — but it can't be —”

With a hand which now trembled violently,
but not with fear, Mr. Brance hastily moved
the body, and held the lantern down so that it
cast its yellow rays on the ghastly face of the
corpse. That face was covered with blood,
and the light of life was gone from its staring,
frightful eyes.

Mr. Brance dropped the lantern, and fell upon
his knees.

“O God! Appleton!” he gasped. “My boy
murdered! Good Heavens! Go for some one,
— a doctor, — Clark! — Brown! — help me!”

Brown was considerably frightened, and
dreaded having any thing to do with the
corpse; moreover, he had no desire to witness
the father's grief, but felt that it would be a
great relief to get away. Accordingly, he ran
with all speed to mount Mr. Brance's horse,
and immediately rode off to alarm every body,
while Clark and Mr. Brance carried the stiffening
corpse into the house.