‘filled me with painful misgivines, to the effect that some

426

THE EXAMINER.

WvsaavgRs.

ace ee

ann

SUMMER RAIN.

Gentle dew, not vainly art thou sent, Ob! not alone to cheer the drooping flower An‘ thirsty land with its long yearnings spent, But o’er a Auman heart that inly griev2s Hast thou the greater and the nobler power.

i

Sweet spirit, stirring all the joyous leaves, Thy tiny, footsteps, like a Fairy train, Go softly stealing by the lattice eaves, Or lightly dash upon the casement pane, Whispering the rose, in language she doth know, For her fair face is turn’d to thee again.

A pleasant song thy wondrous music weaves, For beanty’s child, so lately faint and low,

Bless’d in thy coming she methinks doth rise With mantling cheek and joy-inspiring eyes!

What is thy secret power, sweet Summer Rain?

Oh, art thou not the tear of Pity shed From its pure fount within a mortal breast ? Life’s truest balm the word of kindness spread In darken’é homes where sorrow seeketh rest. The dew of fond Affection deeply blest Above its own, in lavish freedom pour’d, Or Mercy’s gift to prayer and thankfulness When health and peace united are restored.

These, like heaven’s moisture on the Jifeless land, Greation’s flower the folded mind expand,

Till with the freshen’d herb we turn and bless A power unseen, for happy days renewed {n our accepted songs of Gratitude.

THE FATAL BRIDE.

BEING A CONTRIBUTION FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF A BACHELOR,

(Founded on an event which actually occurred.) (Concluded.)

I was no sooner alone in my apartment, than I recol- lected the papers which had been entrusted to my care by Jennings.. He had not only omitted to prohibit its perusal in my case, but had actually told me, in so many words, that I was-at liberty to read it. There was, therefore, no impediment to the honourable gratification of my,curiosity ;and secure from interruption, Lproceed- ed to examine the document.

It purported to be a statement of certain occurrences, in connexion with a clandestine visit made by the deponent, one ‘Benjamin Cruise, clerk, resident next door to the Cew and Cleaver, in Smithfield, in the city of Dublin; at the solicitation of Mrs. Martha Keating, at the house of Sir Arthur Chadleigh, in St. Stephen’s green, ‘The narrative was to the effect, that the reverend gentleman was applied to, on or about acertain day, nearly a year preceding the date of the docament in question, to attend at the back entrance of the said mansion; where, according to, arrangement, he waited)

until about one o’elock, when he was admitted, and con-|,

veyed with great caution upa back stair,.and intoa chamber where was a young lady, as itseemed, in much agitation ;and whoa, as he was then and there informed by the old woman his conductress, he believes to have! been Miss Mary Chadleigh; by which name he was' afterwards directed to marry her to a certain young gentleman, whom he now knows to be Captain Jennings, and who shortly after his, Cruise’s arrival, joined the} party in the said chamber, with like caution; and he, Cruise, had then, at the desire of the party, proceeded to unite Mise Chadleigh and Captain Jennings, according to the ritual of the Church of England; and that a noise | in another part of the house having alarmed them, the |

: ° ‘ ' ceremony was interrupted in the introductory part, and |

before the giving of the ring , and he and Captain Jen-, nings were together hurried out from the house in the. same way; and that he never before or since then saw, Miss Mary Chadleigh, and knew not of her having been! marrie! by any other clergyman. © This statement, | which was given with great aggravation of detail, was fully dated, and signed in full, by the reverend gentle- inan; in those days a net very creditably-notorious per- sonage,

) |

} |

The perusal of this document impressed me stil] more. unfavourably respecting Jennings, 'Phére was some- thing sinister and equivocal about the “whole thing. | ‘The infamous character of the degraded man who signed |

; }

it; the industrious detail with which ithad been pre-!

pared ; and, above all, the unaccountable precaution which had suggested the adoption of such a measore,

gross and horrible delusion had heen practised upon poor Miss Chadleigh; and I could not-bear regretting | thatd bad suffered myself, under conditions.of secrecy. | to be made the depository of so suspicious a document.

[ was pursuing this unsatisfactory train of reflection, when a note was placed in my had; it was couched in the following terms :—

town, in the grey twilight of coming morning; and when J had, as I calculated, consumed the greater part of the necessary interval, I got into a hackney-coach, and drove directly,to the place of rendezvous, Availing myself of a screen of bushes, I stopped the carriage and got out, unobserved from the scene of action. As soon as I obtained a view of the ground, | observed there a little group of three persons, who were standing listlessly close beside it; two or three gentlemen on horseback— mere spectators, of course, like myself—were also on the ground. I walked as near as I decently could to the group I have mentioned, and saw that Chadleigh and Fitzgerald were two of the number. The latter looked at his wetch, and mounted the coach-box to command a more extended view; shading his eyes with his hand, he looked along the skirting of wood which bounds the place, inthe direction of the city, and at last his a seemed to settle ona distant object. I followed the direction of the gaze, and saw the top of a carriage moving in the distance.

‘Here,’ I thought, ‘comes Jennings; which of them is to leave the field unhurt, and which—’ 1 shrank from the inquiry, merely mental as it was, with something like a shudder.

‘Poor Mary Chadleigh! whichever way it ends, its issue must be to her a tragedy.’

Fitzgerald had descended from his post of observation, and recognizing me, he walked up, and shook me by the hand. He looked pale and stern.

‘They are coming,’ said he, glancing towards the vehicle which was now rapidly approaching.

‘Ten paces,’ rejoined Fitzgerald,

‘Too much,’ said he, grufily.

‘It is the usual thing: you don’t want to have us Jook blood-thirsty,’ retorted Fitzgerald.

‘And for that reason, I’d like to have it settled one way or other at the first shot.’

‘It will be settled time enough,’ said the second, and unlocking the pistol-case, he proceeded to load the weg. pons; a silence, hardly broken by a whisper, followed, during which the clink of ramrods and the crammip home of wadded bullets, were ominously audible,

‘Are you ready, Mr. Fitzgerald ? itiquired Jenningg’ second; ‘if so, we had better place our men at once?

A piece of money was thrown up for choice of ground ; Jennings won.

“ Luck’s so far with us, sir;1 hope it may not turn,” remarked the veteran, with a ghastly jocularity.

Chadleigh disincumbered himself of his surtout, and the combatants took their ground respectively,

‘Gentlemen,’ said the major, addressing the specta- tors, ‘have the goodness to draw back a little; some of you may be hurt, else.’

The suggestion was complied with, and a breathless silence followed.

‘ Are you ready, gentlemen 2’ inquired the major,

Each answered in the affirmative.

After a brief pause the word ‘fire’ was given, each raised his weapon, but Chadleigh alone fired. must have had a narrow escape, for he shook his put his hand to)his car, os if a hornet had stung hi then quietly raising his pisto) he fired into the eee

* Rather Jate—are they ? I asked—more from want of the weapon up, and caught it by the muzzle as it

something to say than any other cause.

‘No, no: a quarter past seven was fixed on, subse- quently to my note, last night; we should scarcely have had light earlier,’ he said.

*The weapons are pistols ? I asked.

‘Yes,’ he answered; ‘and we may as well begin to

make our preparations. Come with me; you'll not be}

in the way ;[ won’t stand on ceremony when the time comes for you to withdraw and leave Major Gurney and myself to our deliberations.’

So saying, he drew me with him to the side of the carriage.

‘Take out the case,’ he said to the man who stood by the carriage door ;*not that—those are the instruments, leave it where Dr. ——— placed it—the flat case—that’s right; just keep it in your hand; and when I beckon to you, bring it over to me quickly, there don’t shake it.’

We now walked up to Chadleigh, who stood moodily and doggedly, with his surtout buttoned up to the chin; and exchanging, now and then, a brief word or two with his companion—a slim, pale-faced, young surgeon, who was evidently but one degree less frightened than if he had been himselfa principal. Fitzgerald dropped my arm as he approached, and leaving me a little, observed, consulting his watch—

‘ight minutes before their time.’

Chadleigh nodded.

‘They have brought advice, too,’ suggested the little surgeon, timidly; ‘there is a second carriage.’

*There’s no need to waste time,’ said Chadleigh ; ‘ we had better walk on a little to meet them.’

The steps of the first carriage had by this time been let down ; and Jennings, followed by a'stiff elderly gen- tlemen, with a red, important face, and a military air, descended upon the turf. After, as it seemed, a few directions to the servants, they began to walk towards us, briskly followed by an attendant, carrying a pistol-

friend, a little in the rear.

My heart swelled within me as these two little groups approached one another, in great silence,over the smooth sward. Gracious God! what an awful account for eternity was to be closed ere they parted !

On they came, briskly and steadily, through the keen and misty morning air—nearer and nearer—until the interposing space became so limited that each party as

it were, by mutual consent, slackening their pace, came

slowly to a halt, at some dozen steps apart, and inter-|

changed in silence, 2 stern and formal salutation. Fitz- gerald stepped forward, and was met about half-way by the grim elderly gentleman whom I have deseribed. After another salutation, as formal,they withdrew a little, and conducted a brief conference in short, decisive whispers. Meanwhile, those who, either accidently or by design, had been spectators of the proceedings, began to gather about the spot on which the combatants were placed,

1 had thought, once. or twice, that Jennings perceived

‘;\uy presence, and now I was assured of it.

‘Mr. ——,’ he said, in a low hurried tone, ‘I haye a request to make.’

‘ Pray, state-it, sir” [ replied, approaching.

‘It is just this—should [ happen to fall, remain here for a moment, as I may feel. it necessary to make a com- munication to you of the last importance, not to myself,

‘but to others.’

I undertook to comply with this request, and with- draw.

There was not the slightest perceptible tremor, nor

scended.

‘ D—e, sir, that wont do, exclaimed Chadleigh ina tone of bitter exasperation, “you may throw away your shot if you will, but I’m cursed if you get-out of the business on these terms ;it is the act of a paltroon and a scoundrel to sneak out of a quarrel that way ; I'll baulk your scheme, for youn——’ be

‘Don’t say a word, said Jennings sternly; anterrn ing Fitzgerald, who was about to interfere, ‘I call you al] to witness I have stood his fire, and without returning it—that’s all; let him take the consequences of his vin- dictive obstinacy. (ll not stand to be shot at like’a target; I’ve a right to defend myself, and by——I’ll do it.’

‘Certainly it is very just and sensible; and the very

. . . . . . point I was going to put, said the major, with a brisk approval, that strongly contrasted with the savage inten- sity of Jennings’ tone.

It was plain that the angry and mortal passions of combat were, in Jennings, at last thoroughly roused... | heard him say to Major Gurney, once or twice, im- patiently, ‘make haste,’ and saw him dart one or two lowering glances at Chadleigh. The preliminaries for asecond exchange of shots were completed in a few moments—the signal was given-—and both fired so ex- actly together, that, from the report, ene would have ‘believed the explosion a singe one. Jennings’s shot 'was well directed, though acccident defeated its aim: ‘it struck the trigger-guard of Chadleigh’s pistol, which was nearly forced from his hand by the shock, and glancing off, the ball buried itselfin the sod. Jen- nings, on the other hand, stood immovable, while one might slowly count three, then staggered a little, drop- ped his pistol, and fell suddenly to the ground. Chad- leigh walked forward a few hesitating steps, checked ‘himself, and, in an agitated voice, said to the surgeon

(case; and with the carriage whieh carried their medical | who had accompanied him—

‘You may be wanted here—by——he’s hurt! Fitz- gerald, come away—come, I say.’

Meanwhile, amid a babel of conflicting and exciting ‘suggestions, the surgeon, ordering the crowd to stand back, had the wounded man raised a litte on the car- riage cushions, and was proceeding to examine the ipju- ry, but Jennings said, faintly—

* Don’t —don’t—it’s all of no use.’

He invited me with a glance and a slight gesture to approach.

‘One word,’ he said, speaking with great difficulty. I stooped down, to bring my ear as near him as I could. ‘It’s all alie—-al] that—the paper—see the man, and tell him I said. so—poor M Sra him do it, but [ could not help it—there’s no us€ in maintaing the cheat any Jonger—I’m dying. Keep him away, he continued, faintly turning. his gaze for a moment on the surgeon, who was approaching, and then on me, ‘he can do noth- ‘ing for me--only listen tome-—my jast word--that paper ‘is—is a lie—we were married—I can—I can scarcely ‘speak — don’t --don’t—are you going — hold me—oh /God? | Ican never forget the look that Jenninzs fixed on me |—the fearful, imploring gaze of his dilated eyes filled ‘with the wild, deep, awful meaning of death ; the strang- ling effort to speak—the ghastly pallor—and then, the ‘dropping of the jaw, the morth; through which the breath of life was never more to stir, helplessly agape. ‘the eves, with the deep earnestness of their awful mean- ,ing, fixed for ever—and the stern movelessness of the

‘darkened brow. Was this the gay, vain, reckless Jen-

‘the least indication of excitement in his manner, yoice nings? Was this mute but fearful monitor of death, \or aspect, exeepting that he was, perhaps, a little paler| propped-up before us, indeed the frivolous, light-hearted,

‘Dear —~, At. seven o'clock to-morrow marning, on. ji tg eon $ than usual, and his eyes were unusually dilated, with

; : the restlessness of suspense. I walked tothe spot where * Yours in haste, ‘Firzcerarp, Chadieigh was standing, and almost.at the same mo- I spenta restless night, and was up long before dawn.| ment. Fitzgerald returned.

ilaving completed? my toiley T welked-come way into! «What is the distance ? asked Chadleigh,

sensual man of the world, among whose dreams and jealculations the warning shadow of death had never glided ?

| * By +heis dead, said one of the bystanders, break: ling the breathless silence that had followed,