"I saw an aged man upon his bier, "His hair was thin and white, and on his brow "A record of the cares of many a year; "Cares that were ended and forgotten now. "And there was sadness round, and faces bow'd, "And woman's tears fell fast, and children wail'd aloud. Bryant
As the day advanced, the garrison of Boston was put in motion. The same bustle, the same activity, the same gallant bearing in some, and dread reluctance in others, were exhibited, as on the morning of the fight of the preceding summer. The haughty temper of the royal commander could ill brook the bold enterprise of the colonists; and, at an early hour, orders were issued to prepare to dislodge them. Every gun that could be brought to bear upon the hills was employed to molest the Americans, who calmly continued their labours, while shot were whistling around them on every side. Towards evening a large force was embarked, and conveyed to the castle. Washington appeared on the heights, in person, and every military evidence of the intention of a resolute attack on one part, and of a stout resistance on the other, became apparent.
But the fatal experience of Breed's had taught a lesson that was still remembered. The same leaders were to be the principal actors in the coming scene, and it was necessary to use the remnants of many of the very regiments which had bled so freely on the former occasion. The half-trained husbandmen of the colonies were no longer despised; and the bold operations of the past winter, had taught the English generals that, as subordination increased among their foes, their movements were conducted with a more vigorous direction of their numbers. The day was accordingly wasted in preparations. Thousands of men slept on their arms that night, in either army, in the expectation of rising, on the following morning, to be led to the field of slaughter.
It is not improbable, from the tardiness of their movements, that a large majority of the royal forces did not regret the providential interposition, which certainly saved them torrents of blood, and not improbably, the ignominy of a defeat. One of the sudden tempests of the climate arose in the darkness, driving before it men and beasts, to seek protection, in their imbecility, from the more powerful warring of the elements. The golden moments were lost; and, after enduring so many privations, and expending so many lives, in vain, Howe sullenly commenced his arrangements to abandon a town, on which the English ministry had, for years, lavished their indignation, with all the acrimony, and, as it now seemed, with the impotency of a blind revenge.
To carry into effect this sudden and necessary determination, was not the work of an hour. As it was the desire of the Americans, however, to receive their town back again as little injured as possible, they forbore to push the advantage they possessed, by occupying those heights, which, in a great measure, commanded the anchorage, as well as a new and vulnerable face of the defences of the king's army. While the semblance of hostilities was maintained by an irregular and impotent cannonade, conducted with so little spirit as to wear the appearance of being intended only to amuse, one side was diligently occupied in preparing to depart, and the other was passively awaiting the moment when they might peaceably repossess their own. It is unnecessary to remind the reader, that the entire command of the sea, by the British, would have rendered any serious attempt to arrest their movements, perfectly futile.
In this manner a week was passed, after the tempest had abated—the place exhibiting throughout this period, all the hurry and bustle, the joy and distress that such an unlooked-for event was likely to create.
Toward the close of one of those busy and stirring days, a short funeral train was seen issuing from a building which had long been known as the residence of one of the proudest families in the province. Above the outer-door of the mansion was suspended a gloomy hatchment, charged with the `courant' deer of Lincoln, encircled by the usnal mementos of mortality, and bearing the rare symbol of the "bloody-hand."—This emblem of heraldic grief, which was never adopted in the provinces, except at the death of one of high importance, a custom that has long since disappeared with the usages of the monarchy, had caught the eyes of a few idle boys, who alone were sufficiently unoccupied, at that pressing moment, to note its exhibition. With the addition of these truant urchins, the melancholy procession took its way toward the neighbouring church-yard of the king's chapel.
The large bier was covered by a pall so ample that it swept the stones of the threshold, while entering into the body of the church. Here it was met by the divine we have had occasion to mention more than once, who gazed, with a look of strange interest, at the solitary and youthful mourner, that closely followed in his dark weeds. The ceremony, however, proceeded with the usual solemuity, and the attendants slowly moved deeper into the sacred edifice. Next to the young man, came the well-known persons of the British commander-in-chief, and of his quickwitted and favourite lieutenant. Between them, walked an officer of inferior rank, who, notwithstanding his maimed condition, had been able, by the deliberation of the march, to beguile the ears of his companions, to the very moment of meeting the clergyman, with some tale of no little interest, and great apparent mystery. The remainder of the train, which consisted only of the family of the two generals, and a few menials, came last, if we except the idlers, who stole euriously in their footsteps.
When the service was ended, the same private communication was resumed between the two chieftains, and their companion, and continued until they arrived at the open vault, in a distant corner of the enclosure. Here the low conversation ended, and the eye of Howe, which had hitherto been riveted in deep attention on the speaker, began to wander in the direction of the dangerous hills occupied by his enemies. The interruption seemed to have broken the charm of the secret conversation, and the anxious countenances of both the leaders betrayed how soon their thoughts had wandered from a tale of great private distress, to their own heavier cares and duties.
The bier was placed before the opening, and the assistants of the sexton advanced to perform their office. When the pall was removed, to the evident amazement of most of the spectators, two coffins were exposed to view. One was clothed in black-velvet, studded with silver nails, and ornamented after the richest fashions of human pride, while the other lay in the simple nakedness of the clouded wood. On the breast of the first, rose a heavy silver plate, bearing a long inscription, and decorated with the usual devices of heraldry; and on the latter, were simply carved on the lid, the two initial letters J. P.
The impatient looks of the English generals intimated to Dr. Liturgy the value of every moment, and in less time than we consume in relating it, the bodies of the high-descended man of wealth, and of his nameless companion, were lowered into the vault, and left to decay, in silent contact, with that of the woman who, in life, had been so severe a scourge to both. After a besitation of a single moment, in deference to the young mourner, the gentlemen present, perceiving that he manifested a wish to remain, quitted the place in a body, with the exception of the maimed officer, already mentioned, whom the reader has at once recognised to be Polwarth. When the men had replaced the stone above the mouth of the vault, securing it by a stout bar of iron and a beavy lock, they delivered the key to the principal actor in the scene. He received it in silence, and dropping gold into their hands, motioned to them to depart.
In another instant a careless observer would have thought that Lionel and his friend were the only living possessors of the church-yard. But under the adjoining wall, partly hid from observation by the numerous head-stones, was the form of a woman, bowed to the earth, while her figure was concealed by the cloak she had gathered sbapelessly about her. As soon as the gentlemen perceived they were alone, they slowly advanced to the side of this desolate being.
Their approaching footsteps were not unheeded, though, instead of facing those who so evidently wished to address her, she turned to the wall, and began to trace, with unconscious fingers, the letters of a tablet in slate, which was let into the brick-work, to mark the position of the tomb of the Lechmeres.
"We can do no more," said the young mourner— "all now rests with a mightier hand than any of earth."
The squalid limb that was thrust from beneath the red garment, trembled, but it still continued its unmeaning employment.
"Sir Lionel Lincoln speaks to you," said Polwarth, on whose arm the youthful baronet leaned.
"Who!" shrieked Abigail Pray, casting aside her covering, and baring those sunken features, on which misery had made terrible additional inroads, within a few days—"I had forgotten—I had forgotten! the son succeeds the father; but the mother must follow her child to the grave!"
"He is honourably interred with those of his blood, and by the side of one who loved his simple integrity!"
"Yes, he is better lodged in death, than he was in life! Thank God! he can never know cold nor hunger more!"
"You will find that I have made a provision for your future comfort; and I trust, that the close of your life will be happier than its prime."
"I am alone," said the woman, hoarsely. "The old will avoid me, and the young will look upon me in scorn! Perjury and revenge lie heavy on my soul!"
The young baronet was silent, but Polwarth assumed the right to reply—
"I will not pretend to assert," said the worthy captain, "that these are not both wicked companions; but I have no doubt you will find somewhere in the Bible, a suitable consolation for each particular offence. Let me recommend to you a hearty diet, and I'll answer for an easy conscience. I never knew the prescription fail. Look about you in the world—does your well-fed villain feel remorse! No; ít's only when his stomach is empty that he begins to think of his errors! I would also suggest the expediency of commencing soon, with something substantial, as you show, altogether, too much bone, at present, for a thriving condition. I would not wish to say any thing distressing, but we both of us may remember a case, where the nourishment came too late."
"Yes, yes, it came too late!" murmured the conscience-stricken woman—"all comes too late! even the penitence, I fear!"
"Say not so," observed Lionel; "you do outrage to the promises of one who never spoke false."
Abigail stole a fearful glance at him, which expressed all the secret terror of her soul, as she half whispered—
"Who witnessed the end of Madam Lechmere! did her spirit pass in peace?"
Sir Lionel, again, remained profoundly silent.
"I thought it," she continued—"'tis not a sin to be forgotten on a death-bed! To plot evil, and call on God, aloud, to look upon it! Ay! and to madden a brain, and strip a soul like his to nakedness! Go," she added, beckoning them away with earnestness—"ye are young and happy; why should ye linger near the grave! Leave me, that I may pray among the tombs! If any thing oan smooth the bitter moment, it is prayer."
Lionel dropped the key he held in his hand at her feet, and said, before he left her—
"Yon vault is closed for ever, unless, at your request, it should be opened at some future time, to place you by the side of your son. The children of those who built it, are already gathered there, with the exception of two, who go to the other hemisphere to leave their bones. Take it, and may heaven forgive you, as I do."
He let fall a heavy purse by the side of the key, and, without uttering more, he again took the arm of Polwarth, and together they left the place. As they turned through the gate-way, into the street, each stole a glance at the distant woman. She had risen to her knees; her hands had grasped a head-stone, and her face was bowed nearly to the earth, while by the writhing of her form, and the humility of her attitude, it was apparent that her spirit struggled powerfully with the Lord for mercy.
Three days afterwards, the Americans entered, triumphantly, on the retiring footsteps of the royal army. The first among them, who hastened to visit the graves of their fathers, found the body of a woman, who had, seemingly, died under the severity of the season. She had unlocked the vault, in a vain effort to reach her child, and there her strength had failed her. Her limbs were decently stretched on the faded grass, while her features were composed, exhibiting in death the bland traces of that remarkable beauty which had distinguished and betrayed her youth. The gold still lay neglected, where it had fallen.
The amazed townsmen avoided this spectacle with horror, rushing into other places to gaze at the changes and the destruction of their beloved birth-place. But a follower of the royal army, who had lingered to plunder, and who had witnessed the interview between the officers and Abigail, shortly succeeded them. He lifted the flag, and lowering the body, closed the vault; then hurling away the key, he seized the money, and departed.
The slate has long since mouldered from the wall; the sod has covered the stone, and few are left who can designate the spot where the proud families of Lechmere and Lincoln were wont to inter their dead.
Sir Lionel and Polwarth proceeded, in the deepest silence, to the long-wharf, where a boat received them. They were rowed to the much-admired frigate, that was standing off-and-on, under easy sail, waiting their arrival. On her decks they met Agnes Danforth, with her eyes softened by tears, though a rich flush mantled on her cheeks, at witnessing the compelled departure of those invaders she had never loved.
"I have only remained to give you a partingkiss, cousin Lionel," said the frank girl, affectionately saluting him, "and now shall take my leave, without repeating those wishes that you know are so often conveyed in my prayers."
"You will then leave us?" said the young baronet, smiling for the first time in many-a-day. "You know that this cruelty"—
He was interrupted by a loud hem from Polwarth, who advanced, and taking the hand of the lady, repeated his wish to retain it for ever, for at least the fiftieth time. She heard him, in silence, and with much apparent respect, though an arch smile stole upon her gravity, before he had ended. She then thanked him with suitable grace, and gave a final and decided refusal. The captain sustained the repulse like one who had seen much similar service, and politely lent his assistance to help the obdurate girl into her boat. Here she was received by a young man who was apparelled like an American officer. Sir Lionel thought the bloom on her cheek deepened, as her companion, assiduously, drew a cloak around her form to protect her from the chill of the water. Instead of returning to the town, the boat, which hore a flag, pulled directly for the shore occupied by the Americans. The following week Agnes was united to this gentleman, in the bosom of her own family. They soon after took quiet possession of the house in Tremont-street, and of all the large real estate left by Mrs. Lechmere, which had been previously bestowed on her, by Cecil, as a dowry.
As soon as his passengers appeared, the captain of the frigate communicated with his admiral, by signal, and received, in return, the expected order to proceed in the execution of his trust. In a few minutes the swift vessel was gliding by the heights of Dorchester, training her guns on the adverse hills, and hurriedly spreading her canvass as she passed. The Americans, however, looked on in sullen silence, and she was suffered to gain the open ocean, unmolested, when she made the best of her way to England, with the important intelligence of the intended evacuation.
She was speedily followed by the fleet, since which period the long-oppressed and devoted town of Boston has never been visited by an armed enemy.
During their passage to England, sufficient time was allowed Lionel, and his gentle companion, to reflect on all that had occurred. Together, and in the fullest confidence, they traced the wanderings of intellect which had so closely and mysteriously connected the deranged father with his impotent child; and as they reasoned, by descending to the secret springs of his disordered impulses, they were easily enabled to divest the incidents we have endeavoured to relate, of all their obscurity and doubt.
The keeper who had been sent in quest of the fugitive madman, never returned to his native land. No offers of forgiveness could induce the unwilling agent in the death of the Baronet, to trust his person, again, within the influence of the British laws. Perhaps he was conscious of a motive that none but an inward monitor might detect. Lionel, tired at length with importuning without success, commissioned the husband of Agnes to place him in a situation, where, by industry, his future comfort was amply secured.
Polwarth died quite lately. Notwithstanding his maimed limb, he contrived, by the assistance of his friend, to ascend the ladder of promotion, by regular gradations, nearly to its summit. At the close of his long life, he wrote Gen., Bart. and M. P. after his name. When England was threatened with the French invasion, the garrison he commanded was distinguished for being better provisioned than any other in the realm, and no doubt it would have made a resistance equal to its resources. In Parliament, where he sat for one of the Lincoln boroughs, he was chiefly distinguished for the patience with which he listened to the debates, and for the remarkable cordiality of the `ay' that he pronounced on every vote for supplies. To the day of his death, he was a strenuous advocate for the virtues of a rich diet, in all cases of physical suffering, "especially," as he would add, with an obstinacy that fed itself, "in instances of debility from febrile symptoms."
Within a year of their arrival, the uncle of Cecil died, having shortly before followed an only son to the grave. By this unlooked-for event, Lady Lincoln became the possessor of his large estates, as well as of an ancient Barony, that descended to the heirs general. From this time, until the eruption of the French revolution, Sir Lionel Lincoln, and Lady Cardonnell, as Cecil was now styled, lived together in sweetest concord, the gentle influence of her affection moulding and bending the feverish temperament of her husband, at will. The heir-loom of the family, that distempered feeling so often mentioned, was forgotten, in the even tenor of their happiness. When the heaviest pressure on the British constitution was apprehended, and it became the policy of the minister to enlist the wealth and talent of his nation in its support, by propping the existing administration, the rich Baronet received a peerage in his own person. Before the end of the century he was further advanced to a dormant Earldom, that had, in former ages, been one of the honours of an elder branch of his family.
Of all the principal actors in the foregoing tale, not one is now living. Even the roses of Cecil and Agnes have long since ceased to bloom, and Death has gathered them, in peace and innocence, with all that had gone before. The historical facts of our legend are beginning to be obscured by time; and it is more than probable, that the prosperous and affluent English peer, who now enjoys the honours of the house of Lincoln, never knew the secret history of his family, while it sojourned in a remote province of the British empire.
