LITMIR.BIZ

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hear it," said he; "but what are you doing with so much paper in the market? That's no good sign, you'll allow!"

      I started aghast, and he proceeded to inform me that he had himself seen two of my notes for considerable amounts, and had heard of others; and, finally, that he had just, parted with the president (an intimate friend of his) of a bank not a furlong off, who had asked divers questions as to the state of my affairs, and admitted there was paper of mine at that moment in the bank.

      I was seized with consternation, assured him all such notes must be forgeries; and running with him to the bank, demanded to see any paper they had with my name to it. They produced two different notes for large amounts, which I instantly declared to be counterfeit; and then ran in search of others.

      The hubbub created by this declaration was great, but the tumult in my mind was greater. A horrid suspicion as to the author of the forgeries entered my soul, and I became so deadly sick as to be unable to prosecute the inquisition further. My friend deposited me in a coach, and I was carried to my home, but in a condition more dead than alive. My suspicions were in a few hours dreadfully confirmed by my friend, who returned with the intelligence which he had acquired. The forger was discovered and arrested – it was the elder brother, Ralph Skinner.

      Words cannot paint the agony with which I flew to the magistrate's office, and beheld the unfortunate youth in the hands of justice; but what was my horror to discover the extent and multiplicity of his frauds. The number of forgeries he had committed in his parent's name was indeed enormous; and it seems he had committed them with the intention of flying; for many of his guilty gains were found secreted on his person. But even after so much had been recovered, the residue to be refunded was appalling. The thought of making restitution drove me almost to a phrensy, while the idea of seeing him carried to jail, to meet the doom of a felon, was equally distracting. My misery was read on my face; and some one present, perhaps with a motive of humanity, cried out,

      "Why persecute the young man? Here is his father, who acknowledges the notes to be genuine."

      "Ah," said the magistrate, "does he so? Why, then we have had much foolish trouble for nothing."

      I looked at the amount of the forgeries, a list of which some one put into my hands.

      "It is false," I cried; "I will not pay a cent!"

      I cast my eyes upon Ralph. He reached over a table behind which he stood, and waved his hand to and fro, as if, had he been nigh enough, he would have buffeted me on the face. His look was that of a demon, and he spat the foam from his lips, as if to testify the extremity of hatred.

      "Let him go," I cried; "I will pay it all!"

      "You can undoubtedly do so, if you will," said the magistrate, who had marked the malice that beamed from the visage of the young man; "but do not dream that that will discharge the prisoner from arrest, or from the necessity of answering the felony of which he now stands accused, before a court and jury. The extent of the forgeries, and the temper displayed by the accused, are such, that he must and shall abide the fruits of his delinquency. He stands committed – officer, remove him."

      I heard no more; my brain spun round and round, and I was again carried insensible to my miserable dwelling.

      CHAPTER VI.

      THE CATASTROPHE OF A TRAGEDY OFTEN PERFORMED ON THE GREAT STAGE OF LIFE

      It may be supposed that the misery now weighing me to the earth was as much as could be imposed upon me; but I was destined to find, and that before the night was over, that misery is only comparative, and that there is no affliction so positively great that greater may not be experienced. In the dead of the night, when my woes had at last been drowned in slumber, I was roused by feeling a hand pressing upon my bosom; and, starting up, I saw, for there was a taper burning on a table hard by, a man standing over me, holding a pillow in his hand, which, the moment I caught sight of him, he thrust into my face, and there endeavoured to hold it, as if to suffocate me.

      The horror of death endowed me with a strength not my own, and the ruffian held the pillow with a feeble and trembling arm. I dashed it aside, leaped up in the bed, and beheld in the countenance of the murderer the features of the long missing and abandoned son, Abbot Skinner.

      His face was white and chalky, with livid stains around the eyes and mouth, the former of which were staring out of their orbits in a manner ghastly to behold, while his lips were drawn asunder and away from his teeth, as in the face of a mummy. He looked as if horror-struck at the act he was attempting; and yet there was something devilish and determined in his air, that increased my terror to ecstasy. I sprang from the bed, threw myself on the floor, and, grasping his knees, besought him to spare my life. There seemed indeed occasion for all my supplications: his bloated and altered visage, the neglected appearance of his garments and person, and a thousand other signs, showed that the whole period of his absence had been passed in excessive toping, and the murderous and unnatural act which he meditated manifested to what a pitch of phrensy he had brought himself by the indulgence. As I grasped his knees, he put his hand into his bosom, and drew out a poniard, a weapon I had never before known him to carry; at the sight of which I considered myself a dead man. But the love of life still prevailing, I leaped up, and ran to a corner of the room, where I mingled adjurations and entreaties with loud screams for assistance. He stood as if rooted to the spot for a moment; then dropping his horrid weapon, he advanced a few paces, clasped his hands together, fell upon his knees, and burst into tears, and all the while without having uttered a single word. But now, my cries still continuing, he exclaimed, but with a most wild and disturbed look – "Father, I won't hurt you, and pray don't hurt me!"

      By this time the housekeeper Barbara, having been alarmed by my outcries, came into the chamber; and her presence relieving me of the immediate fear of death, I gave vent to the horror that his unnatural attempt on my life justly excited, and thus made the woman acquainted with his baseness.

      The poor old creature, who had always loved him, was greatly affected, especially when, in reply to my reproaches, he began to talk incoherently, admitting the fact, one instant attempting to justify it by preferring some strange and incoherent complaint, and the next assuring me, in the most piteous manner, that he would do me no harm. To Barbara's upbraidings he replied with a like inconsistency; and when she reproached him for meditating violence at such a moment, while I was mourning the baseness of his brother, he paid little attention to what she said, seeming not only ignorant of Ralph's delinquency, but apparently indifferent to it.

      For this reason I began to fear his brain was touched; of which, indeed, I had soon the most fatal proof; for Barbara, having led him to his chamber, came back, assuring me that he was going mad, that his mind was already in a ferment, and, in a word, that that horrible distraction which sooner or later overtakes the confirmed drinker, was lighting the torch in his brain that could only go out with life itself. A physician was sent for: our fears were but too just, and before dawn the miserable youth was raving distracted.

      The day that followed was one of distraction, not only to the wretched Abbot, but to myself; and I remember it as a confused dream. The only thing that dwells on my recollection, apart from the outcries in Abbot's chamber and the tumult in my own heart, is, that some one who owed me a sum of money, due that day, came and paid it into my hands with great punctiliousness, and that I received and wrote the acquittance for it with as much accuracy as if nothing were the matter, though my thoughts were far from the subject before me.

      At eleven o'clock at night a messenger came to me from the prison, and his news was indeed frightful. The wretched Ralph had just been discovered with his throat cut from ear to ear, having made way with himself in despair.

      A few moments after I was summoned to the death-bed of his brother.

      I shall never forget the horror of that young man's dissolution. He lay, at times, the picture of terror, gazing upon the walls, along which, in his imagination, crept myriads of loathsome reptiles, with now some frightful monster, and now a fire-lipped demon, stealing out of the shadows and preparing to dart upon him as their prey. Now he would whine and weep, as if asking forgiveness for some act of wrong done to the being man is most constant to wrong – the loving, the feeble, the confiding; and anon, seized by a tempest of passion, the cause of which could only be imagined, he would

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