"WASN'T that Ernestine Lee that we passed this moment?" asked HarveyLane, a young M.D., of his friend James Everett, in a tone ofsurprise.
"Yes, I believe it was--"Everett returned, rather coldly.
"You believe it was! Surely, James, nothing has occurred to destroythe intimacy that has for some time existed between you."
"You saw that we did not speak."
"I did."
"And, probably, shall never be on terms of friendship again."
"What you say pains me very much, James. Of course there is a reasonfor so great a change. May I ask what it is?"
"It is, no doubt, a good deal my own fault. But still, I cannot helpthinking that she has taken offence too suddenly, where no offencewas intended. You know that I have been long paying attentions toher?"
"Yes."
"If I remember rightly, I told you last week, that my intentionstowards her were of a serious character. In a word, that I had fullymade up my mind to ask her hand in marriage."
"O, yes,--I remember it very well. And that is the reason why I feltso much surprised at seeing you pass each other, without speaking."
"Well, a few evenings ago, I called, as usual, intending, if a goodopportunity offered, to make known my true feelings towards her.Unfortunately, I had dined out that day with some young friends. Wesat late at table, and when I left, I was a little flushed withwine. It was a very little, for you know that I can drink prettyfreely without its being seen. But, somehow, or other, I was moreelated than is usual with me on such occasions, and when I called onErnestine, felt as free and easy as if everything was settled, andwe were to be married in a week. For a time, we chatted togethervery pleasantly; then I asked her to play and sing for me. She wentto the piano, at my request, and played and sung two or three verysweet airs. I don't know which it was that elated my feelings somuch--the wine, or the delightful music. Certain it is, that at theconclusion of a piece, I was in such rapture, that I threw my armsaround her neck, drew back her head, and kissed her with emphaticearnestness."
"Why, James!"
"You may well be surprised at the commission of so rude andungentlemanly an act. But, as I have said, I was flushed with wine."
"How did Ernestine act?"
"She was, of course, deeply indignant at the unwarrantable liberty.Springing from the piano-stool, her face crimsoned over, she drewherself up with a dignified air, and ordered me instantly to leaveher presence. I attempted to make an apology, but she would not heara word. I have since written to her, but my letter has been returnedunopened."
"Really, that is unfortunate," the friend of Everett said, withconcern. "Ernestine is a girl whom any man might be proud to gain asa wife. And, besides her personal qualifications, a handsome fortunewill go with her hand."
"I know all that too well, Harvey. Fool that I have been, to marsuch prospects as were mine! But she must have known that I was notmyself--and ought to have charged the fault upon the wine, and notupon me."
"Such a discrimination is not usually made."
"I know that it is not. And for not making it in my case, Icertainly cannot help blaming Ernestine a little. She must haveknown, that, had I not been flushed with wine, I never would havetaken the liberty with her that I did. As it is, however, I am notonly pained at the consequences of my foolishness, but deeplymortified at my conduct."
"Is there no hope of a reconciliation?"
"I do not think there is any. If she had accepted my written apologyfor the act, there would have been some hope. But the fact of herreturning my letter unopened, is conclusive as to the permanency ofthe breach. I can now make no further advances."
"Truly, it is mortifying!" the friend remarked. Then, after a pause,he added, with emphasis--
"What fools this wine does make of us, sometimes!"
"Doesn't it? Another such a circumstance as this, would almost driveme to join a temperance society."
"O, no, hardly that, James."
"Well, perhaps not. But, at least, to eschew wine for ever."
"Wine is good enough in its place; but, like fire, is rather a badmaster. Like you, I have injured my prospects in life by anover-indulgence in the pleasures of the cup."
"You?"
"Yes."
"When did that happen?"
"Since I last saw you."
"Indeed! I am sorry to hear you say so. But how was it?--tell me."
"You know, that as a young physician, I shall have to struggle on inthis city for years before I can rise to any degree of distinction,unless aided by some fortunate circumstance, that shall be as astepping-stone upon which to elevate me, and enable me to gain thepublic eye. I am conscious that I have mastered thoroughly theprinciples of my profession--and that, in regard to surgery,particularly, I possess a skill not surpassed by many who havehandled the knife for years. Of this fact, my surgical teacher, whois my warm friend, is fully aware. At every important case that hehas, I am desired to be present, and assist in the operation, andonce or twice, where there were no friends of the patient to object,I have been permitted to perform the operation myself, and alwayswith success. In this department of my profession, I feel greatconfidence in myself--and it is that part of it, in which I take themost interest."
"And in which, I doubt not, you will one day be distinguished."
"I trust so; and yet, things look dark enough just now. But to goon. A few days ago, I dined with some friends. After dinner, thebottle was circulated pretty freely, and I drank as freely as therest, but was not aware of having taken enough to produce upon meany visible effects. It was about an hour after the table had beencleared for the wine, that an unusually loud ringing of thedoor-bell attracted our attention. In a few moments after, I heard avoice asking, in hurried tones, for Doctor Lane. Going down at onceto the hall, I found old Mr. Camper there, the rich merchant, in astate of great agitation.
"'Doctor,' said he, grasping my arm,--'a most terrible accident hashappened to my daughter!--thrown from a carriage!--My physiciancannot be found, and as I have often heard your skill warmly alludedto by him, I desire your instant attendance. My carriage is at thedoor--Come along with me, quickly.'
"Catching up my hat, I attended him at once, and during our rapiddrive to his princely residence, learned that his only daughter hadbeen thrown from a carriage, and dreadfully injured; but in whatway, could not ascertain. Unaccountably to myself, I found my mindall in confusion,--and, strange, unprofessional omission! forgot torequest that I be driven first to my office for my case ofinstruments. We had not proceeded half the distance to Mr. Camper'sresidence, before I noticed that the old man became silent, and thathis eye was fixed upon me with a steady, scrutinizing gaze. Thisadded to the confusion of mind which I felt. At length the carriagestopped, and I accompanied Mr. Camper to his daughter's chamber,hurriedly, and in silence. As I paused by the bed upon which shelay, I again noticed that he was regarding me with a steadysearching look, and an expression of face that I did not like, andcould not understand.
"I proceeded, however, at once, to examine the condition of mypatient, who lay in a kind of stupor. There was a deep gash on theside of her face, from which the blood had issued profusely. By theaid of warm-water, I soon cleared the wound from a mass ofcoagulated blood that had collected around it, and was glad to findthat it was not a serious one. I then proceeded to examine if therewere any fractures. All this time my hands were unsteady, my faceburned, and my mind was confused. I was conscious that I had takentoo much wine.
"'There is no apparent injury here,' I at length said, afterexamining the arms and chest. 'She is probably only stunned by theconcussion.'
"'But she could not stand on her feet when first lifted after thefall, and fainted immediately upon attempting to sustain her ownweight,' Mr. Camper replied.
"I then made further examination, and found sad indications of herfall, in a fractured patella. The knee was, however, so swollen,that I could not ascertain the nature, nor extent of the fracture.
"'What do you find the matter there, doctor?' Mr. Camper asked,after I had finished my examination.
"'A very serious injury, sir, I am sorry to say,' was my reply.
"'Of what nature?' was his somewhat stern inquiry.
"'Her knee-pan is fractured, sir; but so much swollen, that Icannot, now, fully ascertain the extent of the injury.'"
"Henry!" cried the old man in a quick, eager tone to an attendant,"go again for doctor L--; and if he is not in, go for doctorR--; and if you cannot find him, call on doctor T--, and ask himto come instantly."
The attendant hurriedly departed, when Mr. Camper turned slowlytowards me, with a mingled expression of anger, pain, and contempt,upon his face, and said, in a stern voice,
"'Go home young man! and quit drinking wine, or quit the profession!You are in no fit state to undertake a case like this.'
"It came upon me like a peal of thunder from an unclouded summersky. It was the knell of newly-awakened hopes--the darkening ofnewly-opening prospects. Silently I turned away under the cuttingrebuke, and left the house."
"Really, that was most unfortunate!" his friend Everett remarked,with earnest sympathy.
"Could anything have been more unfortunate, or more mortifying. Hercase was one that I fully understood; and could have treatedsuccessfully. It would have brought me into contact with the familyfor six months, or more, and the eclat which I should have derivedfrom the case, would have given me a prominence as a young surgeon,that I am afraid the fact of my losing the case under suchmortifying circumstances, will prevent me ever attaining in thiscity."
"Really, Harvey, I do feel exceedingly pained at what you have toldme. Confound this wine! I believe it does more harm than good."
"Too free an indulgence of it does, no doubt. Our error has lain inthis. We must be more prudent in future."
"Suppose we swear off for ever from touching it."
"No, I will not do that. Wine is good in its place, and I shallcontinue to use it, but more moderately. A physician never knows themoment he may be called upon, and should, therefore, always be in astate to exercise a clear head and a steady hand."
"Certainly, we have both of us had lessons not soon to beforgotten," was the reply; and then the two young men separated.
Two weeks from the day this conversation took place, doctor Lane andhis friend James Everett met at a supper-party, where all kinds ofliquors were introduced, and every kind of inducement held out forthe company to drink freely. Both of the young men soon forgot theirresolutions to be guarded in respect to the use of wine. As thefirst few glasses began to take effect, in an elevation of spirits,each felt a kind of pride in the thought that he could bear as muchas any one there, and not show signs of intoxication.
By eleven o'clock, there was not one at the table who was not drunkenough to be foolish. The rational and intelligent conversation thathad been introduced early in the evening, had long since given placeto the obscene jest--the vulgar story--or the bacchanalian song.Gayest of the gay were our young men, who had already, one wouldthink, received sufficient lessons of prudence and temperance.
"Take care, James!" cried Lane, across the table to his friendEverett, familiarly, late in the evening. "You are pouring the wineon the table, instead of in your glass."
"You are beginning to see double," was Everett's reply, lifting hishead with a slight drunken air, and throwing a half-angry glanceupon his friend.
"That is more than you can do," was the retort, with a meaning tossof the head.
"I don't understand you," Everett said, pausing with the decanterstill in his hand, and eyeing his friend, steadily.
"Don't you, indeed! You see yourself in a state of blessedsingleness--ha! Do you take?"
"Look here, James,--you are my friend. But there are things that Iwill not allow even a friend to utter. So take care now!"
"Ha! ha! There comes the raw. Do I rub too hard, my boy?"
"You 're drunk, and a fool into the bargain!" was the angry retortof Everett.
"Not so drunk as you were when you hugged and kissed Ernestine Lee!How do you like--?"
Lane could not finish the sentence, before the decanter whichEverett had held in his hand glanced past his head with fearfulvelocity, and was dashed into fragments against the wall behind him.The instant interference of friends prevented any further acts ofviolence.
It was about ten o'clock on the next morning that young doctor Lanesat in his office, musing on the events of the previous night, ofwhich he had only a confused recollection, when a young man entered,and presented a note. On opening it, he found it to be a challengefrom Everett.
"Leave me your card, and I will refer my friend to you," was hisreply, with a cold bow, as he finished reading the note. The cardwas left, and the stranger, with a frigid bow in return, departed.
"Fool, fool that I have been!" ejaculated Lane, rising to his feet,and pacing the floor of his office backwards and forwards withhurried steps. This was continued for nearly half an hour, duringwhich time his countenance wore a painful and gloomy expression. Atlast, pausing, and seating himself at a table, he murmured, as helifted a pen,
"It is too late now for vain regrets."
He then wrote a note with a hurried air, and dispatched it by anattendant. This done, he again commenced pacing the floor of hisoffice, but now with slower steps, and a face expressive of saddetermination. In about twenty minutes a young man entered, saying,as he did so--
"I'm here at a word, Harvey--and now what is this important businesswhich I can do for you, and for which you are going to be soeverlastingly obliged?"
"That will tell you," Lane briefly said, handing him the challengehe had received.
The young man's face turned pale as he read the note.
"Bless me, Harvey!" he ejaculated, as he threw the paper upon thetable. "This is a serious matter, truly! Why how have you managed tooffend Everett? I always thought that you were friends of thewarmest kind."
"So we have been, until now. And at this moment, I have not anunkind thought towards him, notwithstanding he threw a bottle ofwine at my head last night, which, had it taken effect, would have,doubtless, killed me instantly."
"How in the world did that happen, doctor?"
"We were both flushed with wine, at the time. I said something thatI ought not to have said--something which had I been myself, I wouldhave cut off my right hand before I would have uttered--and itroused him into instant passion."
"And not satisfied with throwing the bottle of wine at your head, henow sends you a challenge?"
"Yes. And I must accept it, notwithstanding I have no angry feelingsagainst him; and, but for the hasty step he has now taken, wouldhave most willingly asked his pardon."
"That, of course, is out of the question now," the friend replied."But I will see his second; and endeavour, through him, to bringabout a reconciliation, if I can do so, honourably, to yourself."
"As to that," replied Lane, "I have nothing to say. If he insistsupon a meeting, I will give him the satisfaction he seeks."
It was about half an hour after, that the friend of Lane called uponthe friend of Everett. They were old acquaintances.
"You represent Everett, I believe, in this unpleasant affair betweenhim and doctor Lane," the latter said.
"I do," was the grave reply.
"Surely we can prevent a meeting!" the friend of Lane said, witheagerness.
"I do not see how," was the reply.
"They were flushed with wine when the provocation occurred, and thisought to prevent a fatal meeting. If Lane insulted Everett, it wasbecause he was not himself. Had he been perfectly sober, he wouldnever have uttered an offensive word."
"Perhaps not. But with that I have nothing to do. He has insulted myfriend, and that friend asks a meeting. He can do no less than grantit--or prove himself a coward."
"I really cannot see the necessity that this should follow," urgedthe other. "It seems to me, that it is in our power to prevent anyhostile meeting."
"How?"
"By representing to the principals in this unhappy affair, themadness of seeking each other's lives. You can learn from Everettwhat kind of an apology, if any, will satisfy him, and then I canascertain whether such an apology will be made."
"You can do what you please in that way," the friend of Everettreplied. "But I am not disposed to transcend my office. Besides, Iknow that, as far as Everett is concerned, no apology will beaccepted. The insult was outrageous, involving a breach ofconfidence, and referring to a subject of the most painful,mortifying, and delicate nature."
"I am really sorry to hear that both you and your friend aredetermined to push this matter to an issue, for I had hoped that anadjustment of the difficulty would be easy."
"No adjustment can possibly take place. Doctor Lane must fight, orbe posted as a coward, and a scoundrel."
"He holds himself ready to give Mr. Everett all the satisfaction herequires," was the half-indignant reply.
"Then, of course, you are prepared to name the weapons; and the timeand place of meeting?"
"I am not. For so confident did I feel that it would only benecessary to see you to have all difficulties put in a train foradjustment, that I did not confer upon the subject of thepreliminaries of the meeting. But I will see you again, in thecourse of an hour, when I shall be ready to name them."
"If you please." And then the seconds parted.
"I am afraid this meeting will take place in spite of all that I cando," the friend of doctor Lane said, on returning after hisinterview with Everett's second. "The provocation which you gavelast night is felt to be so great, that no apology can atone forit."
"My blood probably will,--and he can have that!" was the gloomyreply.
A troubled silence ensued, which was at last broken by the question,
"Have you decided, doctor, upon the weapons to be used?"
"Pistols, I suppose," was the answer.
"Have you practised much?"
"Me! No. I don't know that I ever fired a pistol in my life."
"But Everett is said to be a good shot."
"So much the worse for me. That is all."
"You have the liberty of choosing some other weapon. One with whichyou are familiar."
"I am familiar with no kind of deadly weapons."
"Then you will stand a poor chance, my friend; unless you name theday of meeting next week, and practise a good deal in the meantime."
"I shall do no such thing. Do you suppose, that if I fight withEverett, I shall try to kill him? No. I would not hurt a hair of hishead. I am no murderer!"
"Then you go out under the existence of a fatal inequality."
"I cannot help that. It is my misfortune. I did not send thechallenge."
"That is no reason why you should not make an effort to preserveyour own life."
"If we both fire at once, and both of our balls take effect, thefact that my ball strikes him will not benefit me any. And supposehe should be killed, and I survive, do you think I could ever know asingle hour's happiness? No--no--I choose the least of two evils. Imust fight. But I will not kill."
"In this you are determined?"
"I certainly am. I have weighed the matter well, and come to apositive decision."
"You choose pistols, then?"
"Yes. Let the weapons be pistols."
"When shall the meeting take place?"
"Let it be to-morrow morning, at sunrise. The quicker it is over,the better."
This determined upon, the friend went again to the second ofEverett, and completed all necessary arrangements for the duel.
It was midnight, and young doctor Lane sat alone in his chamber,beside a table, upon which were ink and paper. He had, evidently,made several attempts to write; and each time failed from some causeto accomplish his task. Several sheets of paper had been writtenupon, and thrown aside. Each of these bore the following words:--
"My Dear Parents:--When these lines are read by you, the handthat penned them will be cold and nerveless--"
Thus far the unhappy young man could go, but no farther. Imaginationpictured too vividly the heart-stricken father who had so oftenlooked down upon him when a boy with pride and pleasure, and thetender, but now agonized mother, as that appalling announcement mettheir eyes.
Again, for the fifth time, he took up his pen, murmuring in a lowtone, yet with a resolute air,
"It must be done!"
He had again written the words:--
"My Dear Parents--"
When his ear caught the sound of steps, strangely familiar to hisear, ascending the stairs, and approaching his chamber. He paused,and listened with a heart almost stilled in its pulsations. In abrief space, the door of his room opened, and a grey-haired, feebleold man came slowly in.
"My father!" exclaimed Harvey, starting to his feet inastonishment--scarcely, for the moment, being able to realizewhether it were indeed his father, or, only an apparition.
"Thank heaven! that I have found my son alive--" ejaculated the oldman, uncovering his head, and lifting his eyes upward. "O, Harvey,my child!" he then said, with an earnest pathos, that touched theyoung man's heart--"how could you so far forget us as to think evenfor a single moment of the dreadful act you are preparing tocommit?"
"I had hoped to be spared this severest trial of all," the young mansaid, rising and grasping the hand of his father, while the tearssprang to his eyes. "What officious friend has taken the pains todisturb both your peace and mine--dragging you thus away from yourhome, in the vain effort to prevent an act that must take place."
"Speak not so rashly, my son! It cannot, it must not, it shall nottake place!"
"I have no power to prevent it, father."
"You are a free agent."
"Not to do a deed of dishonour,--or, rather, I am not free to sufferdishonour."
"There is no honour in wantonly risking or taking life, Harvey."
"I insulted a friend, in the grossest manner."
"That was dishonourable. But why did you insult him?"
"I was flushed with wine."
The old man shook his head, sadly.
"I know it was wrong, father. But it can't be helped now. Well, as Isaid; I insulted him, and he has demanded satisfaction. Can I doless than give it to him?"
"If you insulted him, you can apologize. And, from what I know ofJames Everett, he will at once forgive."
"I cannot do that now, father. He threw a bottle of wine at my head,and then precipitately challenged me. I owe at least something tomyself."
"And something, I should think, to your mother, if not to me,"replied the old man, bitterly. "How, think you she will receive thenews of your death, if the combat should terminate fatally for you?Or, how, if your hands should become stained with the blood of yourfriend?"
"Talk not thus, father! Talk not thus!" ejaculated the young man,rising up quickly, and beginning to pace the floor of his chamberwith hurried steps. "Is not my situation dreadful enough viewed inany light? Then why seek to agonize my heart with what I wouldgladly forget? I am already racked with tortures that can scarcelybe endured--why seek to run my cup of misery over?"
"I seek but to save you, my child," the father replied, in a voicethat suddenly became low and tremulous.
"It is a vain effort. There is but one course for me, and that is togo on, and meet whatever consequences ensue. The result may not beso bad as feared."
"Harvey!" old Mr. Lane said, in a voice that had somewhat regainedits steadiness of tone. "This meeting must not take place. If youpersist in going out tomorrow morning, I must take measures toprevent it."
"And thus dishonour your son."
"All dishonour that will appertain to you, Harvey, appertains to younow. You insulted your friend. Neither your death nor his can atonefor that offence. If reparation be truly made, it will come in someother form."
"It is vain to urge that matter with me," was the reply to this. "Imust give James Everett the satisfaction he requires to-morrowmorning. And now, father, if I should fall, which heaven forbid forothers' sakes more than my own," and the young man's voice quivered,"break the matter to my mother as gently as possible--tell her, thatmy last thoughts were of her, and my last prayer that she might begiven strength from above to bear this heavy affliction."
It was a damp, drizzly morning, just at break of day, when HarveyLane, accompanied by his friend, and a young physician, entered aclose carriage, and started for the duelling-ground, which had beenselected, some four miles from the city. Two neat mahogany caseswere taken along, one containing a pair of duelling pistols, and theother a set of surgical instruments. As these were handed in, theeye of Lane rested upon them for a moment. They conjured up in hismind no very pleasant thoughts. He was very pale, and silent. Nordid his companions seem in much better condition, or much betterspirits. A rapid drive of nearly three quarters of an hour broughtthem upon the ground. The other party had not yet arrived, but cameup in a few minutes afterwards. Then commenced the formalpreparations. The ground was measured off--ten paces. The secondsprepared the deadly weapons which were to heal the honour that hadbeen so dreadfully wounded, and arranged all the minor provisions ofthe duel.
During all this time, neither of the young men looked towards eachother, but each paced rapidly over a little space of ground,backwards and forwards, with agitated steps--though evidently withan effort to seem composed.
"Ready," said Lane's second, at length, close to his ear.
The young man started, and his cheek blanched to a pale hue. He hadbeen thinking of his father and mother. With almost the vividness ofreality had he seen them before him, and heard their earnest;tearful pleadings with him to forbear for their sakes, if not forhis own. But he took the deadly weapon in his hand mechanically, andmoved to the position that had been assigned him. The arrangementwas, that the seconds should give the words--one--two--three--inslow succession, and that the parties should fire as soon after"three" was uttered, as they chose.
Their positions taken, the young men's eyes met for the firsttime--and for the first time they looked again upon each other'sfaces. The word one had been given, at which each raised hispistol,--two was uttered--and then another individual wassuddenly, and unexpectedly added to the party, who threw himself infront of Harvey Lane, in range of both the deadly weapons. Turning,then, towards Everett, he said, lifting his hat, and letting histhin grey hairs fall about his forehead--
"We cannot spare our son, yet, James! We are growing old, and he isour only child. If he were taken thus away from us, we should not beable to bear it. For our sakes, then, James, if he has injured you,forgive him."
Already had the face of his old and long-tried friend, as he met itsfamiliar expression, softened in some degree the feelings ofEverett, and modified the angry vindictiveness which he stillcontinued to cherish. The apparition of the father, and hisunexpected appeal, completely conquered him, and he threw, with asudden effort, his pistol away some twenty yards.
"I am satisfied!" he said, in a low tone, advancing, and taking theold man's hand. "You have conquered the vindictive pride of afoolish heart."
"I know that I grossly insulted you, James"--Harvey Lane said,coming quickly forward, and offering his hand. "But would I, could Ihave done it, if I had been myself?"
"No, Harvey, you could not! And I was mad and blind that I would notsee this"--Everett replied, grasping the hand of his friend. "Wewere both flushed with wine, and that made both of us fools.Surely, Harvey, we have had warning enough, of the evil of drinking.Within the last two weeks, it has seriously marred our prospects inlife, and now it has brought us out here with the deliberate intentof taking each other's lives."
"From this hour, I solemnly declare, that I will never again touch,taste, or handle the accursed thing!" Lane said, with strongemphasis.
"In that resolution I join you," replied Everett, with a likeearnest manner. "And let this resolution be the sealing bond of ourperpetual friendship."
"Amen!" ejaculated Harvey Lane, solemnly,--and, "Amen!" respondedthe old man, fervently, lifting his eyes to Heaven.
THE END.
* * * * * * * * * * * *