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eyes intently, fixed upon her. One look sufficed for her. She saw he was no second Capt. Jones. • Will you marry me, sir?' she asked with a firm steady voice, but downcast eyes. . . . The sound of her voice aroused him from the statue-like posture he had fallen into on first seeing her. He paused, he #. on the lovely being who stood beore him proffering this singular request, but his lips refused to utter one word. “Must I go further, or will you marry me? Oh God is there no hope 1" and the lady buried her face in her hands and sobbed Charles felt he was himself at once. He felt his spirit of gallantry and romance rising strong within him. A thousand ill defined thoughts rushed through his head, but he felt he was a man and a lovely young woman was before him; who perhaps was in distress—perhaps— but before he was able to form another opinion the lady half turned to leave the vessel. “Stop lady—your request is singular—very—let me ask one question— Are you in distress" “Distress Oh God——do not deem me crazed. Indeed indeed sir, I am not— think of nothing now, but answer—will you marry me?” “Whoever vou are, or whatever you may be I know not; can I not serve you in any other manner? Perhaps you may repent a resolution formed 1. ‘Talk uot to me of repenting sir, and do not waste my time—now it is precious —you can only serve me by marrying me; will you do so?' “By heaven, I will,” exclaimed Charles enthusiastically,' there is that about you that tells me I, at least, shall never rue it —I am ready, wait but a moment.” Charles went into the cabin and put on his jacket, which he had taken off while working, and in a monent he was at her side. “Come, then, lady, whoever and whatever you may be, I will abide by the result.' . He took her on shore, and placed her in a co ch which was standing near, and drove off to a friend's house. He was shown into a room; the door was locked. and the young lady threw hersels on a *hair. She did not weep, nor sob, nor did
she appear to be in the least affected by the novelty of her situation. ‘Sir, said she rising, whoever you are, I can trust you; you are no common sai. lor nor am I what I seem : I have now no time to waste in words; I will explain all in a few hours. Trust me—believe me; serve me and you never shall repent it.— What is to be done must be done at once; I have but a few hours to spare, and if I am discovered before they expire, I shall be wretched, indeed. Here, sir, is money; go and purchase all you wish, be quick, and do not—do not delay now;' and she proffered to him a roll of bills. *Thank you, lady—I do not need it, I am not indeed what I seem; resthere un
will return in a few moments; do not be alarmed.” Charles went out and left her alone he went to a fashionable tailors in Broad. way, and in ten minutes was changed from a rough dirty looking sailor, to a fine, many, handsome fellow, and his dress set off to admiration his fine figure. He returned instantly to the lady; and when he entered the room where he had left her,he found her walking backwards and forwards, but not in the least agitated. She had evidently steeled herself to the worst, and was prepared for any thing. “My name, sir, is Ellen Moran—let that suffice for the present. Are you ready" said she firmly and without betraying any emotion. * I am, lady." They went again into the carriage, and drove to the Mayor's, and in a few mo: ments were man and wise. When they left the Mayor's house, Mrs. Barton gave orders to the coachman herself, but in a voice whose tones were not heard by her husband. , - • Will you return with me!' inquired Mr. Barton, as his wife entered the coach. “No sir-we are going to your ho where your presence will be required'. Mr. Baron looked very steadily at his wife for a moment as she uttered thes words and for the first time began.” think that he had entered upon a very silly scrape. The idea entered his head that she night be a little out of trim alos, an it did not make him very comfortal.
The door was closed and the coach
til I return; you are safe in this house, I until that should occur.
kept me secluded from the world, and in
was off. Not a word was spoken on either side during the whole drive, which was very long, at least so it seemed to him. Charles was intently thinking upon his conduct, and was half inclined to regret his rashness, but one glance at his sweet, new married wife settled that point. The carriage stopped at the door of a house of elegant exterior, in one of the most fashionable streets in the city. He alighted first, and handed out his wife in silence—They ascended the steps and rang the bell. The door was opened by a servant in handsome livery. * , “Is my uncle at home yet.' “No miss, he is not,’ replied the man— respectfully bowing. Mr. Barton cast a furtive glance around him. Every thing was arranged in the most recherche style, and with a most lavish expense. She led him into a parlor sumptuously furnished. “All that you behold,” said Mrs. Barton as the door was closed, “are mine, sir.— They are now your own. Believe me,
sir, i speak the truth. Remember that
you are the master of this house and all in it, and whatever may occur do not forget your own right.' You surely cannot mean deceit,” said Mr. Barton, utterly at a loss to account for the singular conduct of his wife. “Trust me, sir, try me—believe me. I will tell you all I can; all I have time to tell. Four years ago, my father, one of the wealthiest merchants in this . leaving to me all his property. My uncle who will soon be here was made my guar. dian until I should marry, and he had charge of the estate left by my father As he had nothing of his own to support himself, he has
confinement almost closely since my poor father's death—well knowing that, on my marriage the property would pass from his His conduct, at times has been harsh and cruel and particularly of late. To day I found means to escape from the house unseen. The rest you know. She then arose and rang the bell—a servant came to the door. ‘John,' said she, ‘send every servant in the house up here.” Mr. Barton sat perfectly still and
l servants came up and stood in the parlot
how to act; and was more than half inclined to think his wife a lunatic. The awaiting for orders. - . . ."
“Mr Barton' said his wife, ‘these are your servants. Every thing you see around you was mine, all is now yours. You hear me,’ addressing the servants— “this gentleman is my husband and your master, obey him as such. Retire. Now sir, all I have to say is that you will assume and maintain your rights' - * *
Further she could not say, for the parlor door was suddenly, and violently thrown open, and an elderly, hard seatured, coarse looking man entered and stood for a moment gazing alternately on the lady and Mr. Barton. * * * *
‘What is your business here, sir?" demanded he austerely of Mr. Barton, who as he entered had seated himself and re. turned look for look. Mr. Barton made no reply. ; : * : *, *:
“Miss Moran,’ said he turning to Mrs. Barton, ‘can you explain why this man is here ! * . . . . “She need not take that trouble, sir,' replied Barton rising; ‘that lady is my wife, and I am master of this house, and allow me now to ask, sir, what is your business here !” * , . . ;
‘Your wife—your house—upon my word—ha, ha, ha!” and Mr. Moran seat.
led himself and laughed most heartily an;
scornfully. “Come sir," said Mr. Barton “your presence is disagreeable. If you have any business to transact, finish it quickly We wish to be alone * * * * , ‘Why you d-d impertinent scound—' The word was not fully uttered. Mr. Barton caught him by the collar, and shook him, till he was black in the face. ‘Scoundrel you would have said; you lying, cheating old villain. If you were not so old and so contemptible, I would not leave a whole bone in your lubberly car. case. I tell you again that lady is my wife—this is my house. . I know you and your tricks, and if you are here in one hour from this time, and I see you I will have you sent to the Police office, where you may be forced to make some disagreeable confessions, so now be off and 'packup, and Mr. Barton loosed his hold of the terrified old man. , t
*id nothing: but was mentally resolving VOI, IIT-15-8
Mr. Moran, for he it was, seated himself to gain breath. “Do you mean to say that you are married to that man Ellen” asked he contemptuously. She did not deign him a reply, but sat in silence awaiting the issue, and he turned to Mr. Barton for further explanation. “Don’t look to me, sir. That lady, God bless her, is my wife. She has told me all your infernal villainous conduct, and the sooner you quit this house, the better it may be for you.’ • And who the devil are you, sir? that dare to speak to me thus in my own house. —who are you sir!’ demanded Mr. Moran, rising and coming up close to Charles. “Mr. Charles Barton, sir, at your service sir. The son of a better man than yourself and one who will love, honor and protect this lady, my wife. So be warned in time. I have said my say, and now be off at once. Mr. Moran arose and moved towards the bell rope, no one attempted to stop him—he rang it, and the servants, who expected a scene, came in. • Turn this fellow out of doors at once,’ said he, half choked with rage, pointing to Mr. Barton. who stood unmoved. Not one stirred to execute the mandate. John,' said Mr. Barton to one of them ‘go into Mr. Moran's room pack up every thing there, and have it sent according to his directions. Be quick too,” ‘Yes sir, said John, as he made his exit.
‘You see sir,’ said he, turning to the
astonished uncle, who had seated himself
in a stupor, ‘ I am master here, or do you
with much patience, you are trying what
* gain, when she could have more of their 8||0 G R A P H | T A L, company. Le Brun attended his lady to - — ` church, and then went to another himself: No species of writing scem inore worthy of cultiva- after which he went to play at bowls, as to: none an be more .. was customary at that time, and from the o heart by o, ‘...". bowling green. he went to several places; widely diffuse instruction to every diversity of and after supping with a friend he went condition—DR. Johnsos. home seemingly cheerful and easy, as he had been all the afternoon. Lady Mazel supped with the Abbe Puolard as usual, H. E. B.R. UN. and about eleven o'clock went to her chamber, where she was attended by her In the year 1689, there lived in Paris a 'maids. Before they left her, Le Brun woman of fashion called Lady Mazel: her came to the door to receive his orders for house was large, and four stories high : the next day; after which one of the On the ground floor was a large servants' maids laid the key of the chamber door hall, in which was a grand staircase, and on the chair next it; they then went out, a cupboard where the plate was locked and Le Brun following them, shut the up of which one of the chambermaids, door after him, and talked with the maids kept the key. In a small room partition- a few minutes about his daughters, and td off from the hall, slept the valet-de- then they parted, he seeming still very chambre, whose name was Le Brun: cheerful. the rest of this floor consisted of apart. In the morning he went to market, and ments in which the lady saw company was jocular and pleasant with every body which was very frequent and numerous, he met, as was his usual n'anner. He is she kept public nights for piay. In then returned home and transacted his to floor up one pair of stairs was ine la-customary business. At eight o'clock he dy's own chamber, which was in the expressed surprise his lady did not get up, Font of the house, and was the in ermost as she usually arose at seven ; he went to of three rooms from the grand staircase; his wife's lodging which was in the neighthe key of this chamber was usually taken borhood, and told her he was uneasy his out of the door and laid on a chair by the lady's bell had not rung, and gave her *Ivant who was last with the lady, and seven louis d'ois, and some crowns in who, pulling the door after her, it shut gold, which he desired her to lock up, with a spring, so that it could not be and then went home again, and found the "pened from without. In this chamber, servants in great consternation at hearing ** were two doors, one communicated nothing of their lady; when one observed With a hack staircase, and the other with that he feared she had been seized with Wardrobe which opened to the back an apoplexy, or a bleeding at the nose, tairs also. to which she was subject; Le Brun said, On the sceond floor slept the Abbe Pou." it must be something worse: my mind *rd, in the only room which was monio me, for I found the street door * on that floor. On the third story were open last night after all the family were % chambers, which contained two in bed but myself.” They then sent for *mbermaids and two foot-boys: the the lady's son, M. de Savoniere; who furth story consisted of lofts and grana-shinting to Le Brun his fear of an apoo, whose doors were always open: the plexy, “It is certainly something worse; * slept below in a place where the my mind has been uneasy ever since I Wood was kept; an old woman in the found the street door open last night after *hen; and 'the coachman in the stable, the family were in bed.” A smith being n the 27th of November, being Sun-now brought. the door was broke, open, "Y, the two daughters of Le Brun, the aud Le Brun entering first, ran to the bed: '*', who were eminent milliners, wait.and after calling several times, he drew *d on the lady, and were kindly received;|back the curtains, and said, “ Oh! my "t as she was going to church to after-lady is murdered 1" he then ran into the boon *rvice, she pressed them to come a wardrobe, and took up, the strong cer,
which being heavy, he said, “she has not'night-cap, also a ladder of ropes being
been roi bed; how is this * A surgeon then examincid the body, which was covered with no less than fifty wounds; they found in the bed, which was full of blood, a scrap of coarse lace and a napkin made into a night-cap which was bloody, and had the family mark on it: and from the wounds in the lady's ands, it appeared she had struggled hard with the murderer, which obliged him to cut the muscles belore he could disengage himself. The bell-strings were twisted round the frame of the leaster, o that they were out of reach and could not ring. A clasp-knife was found in the ashes, al most consumed by the fire, which had burned off all the marks of blood; the key of the chamber was gone from the seal by the door; but no marks of violence appeared on any of the doors, nor were there any signs of a robbery, as a large sum of money and all the lady's jewels, were found in the strong box, and other places.” " . . . Le Brun having examined, said, that “after he left the maids on the stairs, he yent down into the kitchen; he laid his hat and the key of the street-door on the table, and sitting down by the fire to warm himself, he fell asleep; that he slept as he thought, about an hour, and going to lock the street door, he found it open; that he locked it and took the key with him to his chamber.” On, searching him, they found in his pocket a key, the wards of which were new filed and made remarkably large; and on trial it was found to open the street-door, the arti-chamber, and both the doors in Lady Mazei's chamber. On trying the bloody hight-cap on Le Brun's head it was found to fit him exactly, whereupon he was committed to prison. . . t" ... On his trial it appeared as if the lady was murdered by some person who had fled, and who was let in by Le Brun for that purpose. It could not be done by himself, because no blood was upon his clothes, not any scratch on his body, Mhich must have been on the murderer from the lady's struggling; but that it was Le Brun who let him in, seemed very clear: none of the locks were forced, and his own story of finding the street-door open, the circumstances of the key, and the
found in the house, which might be sup. posed to be laid there by Le Brun, to take off the attention from himself, were all interpreted as strong proofs of his guilt; and that he had an accomplice was inier. red, because part of the cravat found in he bed was discovered not to be like his but the maids deposed they had washed such a cravat for one Berry, who had been a footman to the lady, and was
turned away about four months before for robbing her; there was also found in the loft at the top of the house, under some straw, a shirt very bloody, but which was not like the linen of Le Brun, nor would It fit him. - - Le Brun had nothing to oppose tothest strong circumstances, but a uniform good character, which he had maintained do: ring twenty-nine years he had served his lady; and that he was generally esteem. ed a good husband, a good father, and a good servant. It was, therefore, resolved to put him to the torture, in order to dis. cover his accomplices. This was done with such severity, on February 23, 1680, that he died the week aster of the hurl he received, declaring his innocence with his dying breath. , ; About a month after, notice was on from the provost of Sens, that a dealerin horses had lately set up there by the namo of John Garlet, but his true name was found to be Berry, and that he had been a footman in Paris. In consequence of this he had been taken up, and the sus." cion of his guilt was increased by his to tempting to bribe the officers. On seaso. ing him, a gold watch was sound, who proved to be Lady Mazel's: being brough to Paris, a person swore to seeing him go out of Lady Mazel's the night she wo killed; and a barber, swore to shaving him next morning, who, on observing!" hands very much scratched, Berry said” had been killing a cat. On these circumstances, he was con demned to the torture, and afterward;" | be broken alive on the wheel. On being | tortured, he confessed, that by the dio tion and order of Madame de Savonies” (Lady Mazel's daughter) he and i.e.Bio had undertaken to rob and murder Lao Mazel; and that Le Brun murdered ho