The International Monthly, Volume 2, No. 1, December, 1850Various
History
The International Monthly, Volume 2, No. 1, December, 1850
Various
Art, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- History -- Periodicals
"Dead!" reiterated the other, throwing the door wide. "Step in if you
please. Dead! how should that be? He was very well this afternoon. Where
is he?" And so saying, he closed the street door, and led the young
soldier into a small parlor, where a lamp with a shade over it, and
several old ledgers, were lying on the table.
"He's at Mr. Lane's in Thomas Street," replied Tracy.
"But are you sure he's dead?" inquired the gentleman, who was indeed no
other than Mr. Jonas Aldridge himself. "How did he die? Who says he's
dead?"
"I don't know how he died. The apothecary seemed to think it was disease
of the heart," replied Tracy; "but he is certainly dead."
At this crisis of the conversation a new thought seemed to strike the
mind of Jonas, who, exhibiting no symptoms of affliction, had hitherto
appeared only curious and surprised. "My uncle Ephraim dead!" said he.
"No, no, I can't believe it. It is impossible--it cannot be! My dear
uncle! My only friend! Dead! Impossible!--you must be mistaken."
"You had better go and see yourself," replied Tracy, who did not feel at
all disposed to sympathize with this sudden effusion of sentiment. "I
happened to be by, by mere chance, and know nothing more than I heard
the apothecary say." And with these words he turned toward the door.
"You are an officer's servant, I see?" rejoined Jonas.
"I live with Captain D'Arcy of the 32d," answered Tracy; and wishing Mr.
Jonas a good-evening, he walked away with a very unfavorable impression
of that gentleman's character.
The door was no sooner closed on Tracy than Mr. Jonas Aldridge returned
into the parlor, and lighted a candle which stood on a side-table, by
the aid of which he ascended to the second floor, and entered a
back-room wherein stood a heavy four-post bed, the curtains of which
were closely drawn together. The apartment, which also contained an
old-fashioned mahogany set of drawers, and a large arm-chair, was well
carpeted, and wore an aspect of considerable comfort. The shutters were
closed, and a moreen curtain was let down to keep out the draught from
the window.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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