“Stafford, Va., May, 1747.
“I am about to commit suicide. Before putting an end to my miserable
life, I will relate the circumstances which impel me to the act. My
mind is perfectly sane, my memory good—I will speak calmly. This is
my history:
“I was left an orphan at twenty, with no brothers or sisters around
me—my only brother, who was older than myself, having perished on a
sea-voyage. I was rich—the entire property of my parents having reverted
to myself. I enjoyed country life on my property, and was fond
of the society of young ladies, but never loved any one until I met with
Bertha Argal. Her father rented a small farm near my own considerable
estate, and I met with her frequently, and conceived a passion for
her. She was, and is the most beautiful woman that my eyes ever beheld.
Unfortunately she is destitute of all those noble qualities which
should accompany beauty. She is false, and as cold as ice—heartless.
But I will not say more—let the event show.
“I loved her passionately, and very soon commenced paying her my addresses.
She received them with manifest favor. It was not long before
I confessed my affection, and she told me with tears and blushes, that she
loved me as ardently as I said I loved her. I will never forget her words
or her looks; they are engraven on my memory. Well, to be brief, we
were contracted in marriage; it was fixed for a day not more than three
months off, when my elder brother, who had been given up as lost at
sea, five years before, suddenly made his appearance. He had been
taken prisoner by a Spanish vessel, carried to Cadiz, and thrown into a
dungeon there, as a suspected character; his identity being mistaken.
He had finally been liberated however, and so came back. I need not
tell anybody who knows me, that I did not regret this, or grudge my
brother the estate, which as eldest son he deprived me of; reducing
me from an independent gentleman of large possessions, to a dependent
on his bounty. I loved him, and he loved me. I looked up to him; he
was my superior in mind as in strength and stature; and I was content
to occupy my rightful position of younger brother and inferior.
“Not long after his return, Harley saw Bertha Argal, and in spite of
his knowledge of my engagement, loved her. In this there was no disloyalty—no
intention to become my rival. He would have scorned the
imputation, but he loved her. He could not help it. The dazzling
beauty of the girl, her fascinating, bewildering witchery, were too much
for his resolution. I saw that he loved her, but at first gave myself no
sort of uneasiness about it. I knew that Harley was the soul of honor;
would as soon cut off his right hand as commit a base action; and as to
Bertha Argal, I was quite at rest. At that time I laughed at the idea of
treachery in a creature so pure and beautiful. Well, the sequel will
show. Six months after my brother's arrival, the young lady began to
grow cold toward me, and warm toward my brother. I told her of it;
she laughed in my face. She grew fonder and fonder of my brother. I
became angry. She sneered at my anger. If I was displeased, she said,
at my brother's attentions, why not bring it to the decision of arms?
we both wore swords! These satirical words impressed me horribly;
the young lady was coming out in her real colors. I said nothing, and
terminated my visit; but I went again the next day, for I had no will to
resist; I was mad about her. Thus things continued until a month
ago. Then I found that she had been poisoning my brother's mind
against me. He became cold to me, and ere long my presence in the
house, our father's house, became an evident constraint on him. One
morning, however, he returned from Mr. Argal's, whither he had been
on business with a strange glow in his cheek, and greeted me with long
disused affection. He seemed to look at me compassionately. Something
told me that this foreboded evil, and I galloped over to see Bertha.
I had guessed correctly, She embraced that occasion, she said, to inform
me that I might give up all thoughts of marrying her; she had no
reason to give; it was her decision! She looked like a queen as she
spoke, and I remained for a moment looking at her, pale and silent.
Then I said, `Was this what made Harley so kind to me, so compassionate?
Did you inform him of your intention?' `Well, sir,' was her reply,
`suppose I did? I beg you will in future confine yourself to your
own affairs, and not subject me to the inquisition.' She was furious,
but as beautiful as an aroused leopardess. I was white with rage, but I
loved her passionately still. I glared at her for an instant, and then
replied, `This will end badly, Miss Argal—no young lady can trifle with
a gentleman with impunity.' Her lip curled, and she said, coolly, `Oh,
you mean you are going to fight Harley? Well, why don't you try it,
sir? Are you afraid that he is a better swordsman, and will finish you?
I have no doubt this is your objection, and I don't believe you would
dare to face him!' I solemnly declare that these were her exact words.
I leave the readers of this paper to decide if in many cases they would
not have produced that awful tragedy, a mortal contest between brothers.
I said nothing, however; I looked at her with pale and trembling lips
only, and went away. Three days afterwards, Harley was called to Mr.
Argal's again, and on his return looked serious and troubled. `Miss
Argal is a singular person,' he said to me after dinner, with great
gloom; `can she wish to place you and me, Charles, opposite each other
with swords in our hands? I should so imagine from her conversation
to-day; a strange person!' I did not reply, except by some common-place.
I loved the young woman still with too passionate a love. I
could not speak against her. For more than two weeks thereafter, I was
her slave, her dog. I crawled back when she lashed me away, and tried
to kiss the hand which struck me. I say this, because all the truth shall
be known. I have no resolution—I never had any; I am the powerless
victim of this infatuation; and if this moment Bertha Argal were to
enter the room, and smile on me—even after all—I would obey her in
anything she commanded
“But my narrative must come to an end. Four days ago I went to
see her for the last time. She met me with scorn and satirical smiles,
which soon became sneers. So I had determined not to be whipped
away, had I?' she asked: `I had come sneaking back to moan out that
she no longer loved me; that she loved my brother, which she now
begged leave to inform me was a fact, and that I was wretched.' `Yes,'
I said, `all you say is true.' `Then you are a fool for your pains, sir,
she said, `and your presence makes me sick. You, a brother of Harley
Austin! you, with your feeble snivelling complaints, and begging, the
brother of that strong, resolute man! Yes, sir! I love him, and he shall
love me; and if you don't like that, you may put an end to yourself; it
will be a matter of very small interest to me!' I looked at her as she
spoke, and shuddered. She was super-humanly beautiful; I would have
given all the countless worlds of the sky, had I possessed them, to have
clasped her for a single moment in my arms. She saw her influence
over me, and her lip curled. `You haven't resolution, however, for the
act,' she said; `if I were a man, and fortune went against me, I'd do as
the ancients did, get rid of life. And now, sir, you will please leave me,
I am tired of you. Ah! here comes Harley!' And turning her back on
me, she hastened to the window, and smiled at the visitor.
“I set my beeth close, put on my hat, and went out. Harley and I
passed each other with some constraint on his part; I was quite calm,
for I had made up my mind. I returned to the hall and wrote on a
pieco of paper which I knew would meet my brother's eye, the words:
`Think well, before you marry Bertha Argal, brother. She has broken
my heart—attempted to drive me to a bloody combat with you, knowing
who would be victor, and now advises me to end my despair by my own
hand. I obey, for life has no longer any charm for me. Farewell.' I
signed this, and have come hither to Mrs. Butterton's to write and leave
this paper.
“In five minutes I shall be dead.
