Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Mechanically he left the room, and wandered away, he knew not whither.
His brain whirled. He saw strange phantoms around him. He fancied the
bright heavens strove to fall on him. Dark, angry clouds seemed to
envelop him and prevent him from escaping. The birds accused him in
their songs. The wind whispered his crime among the green leaves. They
trembled as they heard the story, and even the grass and the sweet
flowers bowed their heads as they learned his crime. All nature accused
him, and he strove to hide himself from the light of day. On, on, he
fled until he saw a simple dwelling.
“Ah,” he cried, “this at least is the work of human hands. Here at least
dwells a human being. God’s works are pure and they accuse me; but
sheltered by what the hand of man has made, I shall feel secure.”
The door stood open and he rushed in. The family were seated at their
breakfast, and sprang up in amazement when he appeared. The children
shrieked, and he felt that they, too, knew his crime; that they, too,
upbraided him. He left the house and sought the woods, but their grand,
solemn quiet oppressed him.
“I will go to my father’s house,” said he; “there, at least, no one can
accuse me, for my parents share my crime.”
He strove to retrace his steps, but could not: his mind grew more
confused, his head became giddy, and he sunk exhausted by the roadside.
The news of Lucy’s death sped like lightning through the village, and
when Lady Laura Weldon summoned her dressing-maid, the girl’s pale face
struck an unexpected terror to the heart of the mistress.
“What is the matter, Warren?” said she.
“O, madam, such dreadful news,” replied the frightened girl. “Lucy White
has killed herself!”
“O, mercy,” shrieked her lady; “Warren, the salts: I shall faint. There,
there, I am better now. How could you break such awful news so abruptly.
But where is Paul? Go and tell him to come to me.”
The girl hesitated.
“Why do you hesitate? Go and tell my son to come here. Go—instantly.”
“Ah, madam,” said the girl, “I fear it would be useless to seek him. He
was there when the death was discovered, and Mrs. White upbraided him so
dreadfully, that he rushed from the house and has not been heard of
since.”
“Good God! has no one seen him? Run quickly; tell all the servants to
seek him and bring him back. By force, if it be required. Bid them
search in every direction: whoever finds him shall be well rewarded.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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