George Lippard

“ It was this wealth which cast me, in childhood, into the streets, without friend or home,—and do you know the life I've lived? While you were saying mass at Rome, I was committing murder, father,—I was being sentenced to death,—I was buried alive in your family vault,—I was passing two years in a madman's cell! Look at the work of your wealth! Let these gentlemen (who, I doubt not, have been heirs of this estate in anticipation,) let them speak, and tell what passions, like fiends evoked from nethermost hell, this wealth has summoned into life! ”

“ The haunts of traffic are closed: the great artery of the city is silent as death: the mad current of life which whirled along it incessantly a few hours ago, has disappeared; or if there is life upon its broad flag-stones, it is life of a peculiar character, far different from the life of the day. And there it spreads before you, under the midnight stars, its vast extent defined by two lines of light, which, in the far distance melt into one vague mass of brightness. New York is the Empire City of the continent and Broadway is the Empire Street of the world. ”

“ His arms were around me, my bosom heaved against his breast, his kiss was on my lips—the first kiss since childhood, and O, how different from the kiss which a brother presses on a sister's lips!
"Frank I love you! Many beautiful women have I seen, but there is that in your gaze, your voice, your very presence, which is Heaven itself to me. I cannot live without you! and cannot, cannot think of losing you without madness. Frank, be mine, be my wife! Be mine, and the home which shines yonder in the sunlight shall be ours! Frank, for God's sake say you love me!" ”

“ For it I have denied myself the companionship of a wife, the joy of hearing a child call me by the name of 'father!' I have traversed the globe in its behalf; made myself a dweller in all lands; have left the beautiful domain of that science which loses itself among the stars, to make myself a student in the science of human misery, in the dark philosophy of human despair. I have made myself the very slave of this estate. Believing that one day, its enormous wealth would be devoted to the amelioration of social misery, I have made myself familiar with the entire anatomy of the social world ”

“ And from the light into the shadow, with the trembling nun half resting on his arm, half reposing on his breast, passes the White Monk. They reach the threshold of the hall. Pass it not, Joanna, as you love your child! pass it not, on peril of your soul! But no! "Come, Joanna!" and they are gone together.
From the throng of maskers who glide to and fro, select, for a moment, the lady in black, who stands gloomily yonder, gathering the folds of her robe about her face. Does this scene attract, or repel her? Within that shapeless robe, does her bosom swell with pleasure—voluptuous pleasure? ”

“ And the wife who now slumbers by his side, is none other than Fanny Lansdale, the victim of the unutterable crime. Who shall say that we are not, in a great measure, the sport of circumstance? How different would have been the life of Herman, had Marion never crossed his path?"
Something like pity for the crimes of Barnhurst began to steal over Dermoyne's face, as he sat thus alone, in the solitude of the last hour of the night; but the thoughts of Alice, on her bed of shame and anguish, started up like a phantom and drove every throb of compassion from his soul. ”

“ Speak, Martin Fulmer, you, who for twenty-one years, have denied yourself the blessing of wife, home, children; while in sleepless anguish you watched over this wealth,—speak! What evil thought is there in earth or hell which it has not called into deeds? No,—father,—lifting this hand to heaven, I swear by that mother, whom you left to writhe alone upon her dying bed, that I will not touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate!"
The Legate, that is to say, Gulian Van Huyden, was crushed by these words; they fell upon him like a sentence of death. ”

“ In one of the chambers of the Vatican, late at night, a lamp was faintly burning, its rays struggling among the thick shadows which hung about the lofty walls. Through an open window came a dim, ominous murmur,—the voice of the arisen people of Rome.
A man of some fifty years, whose black hair was plentifully sprinkled with gray, paced up and down the marble floor, pausing every now and then before a door, in the center of the chamber, to which he directed his earnest gaze. Behind that door was the majesty of the Roman Church, 'the representative of God on earth'—the Pope of Rome. ”

“ He is lividly pale, but the hand which grasps the pistol does not tremble. Notwithstanding the bitter cold, there is moisture on his forehead; the fire which burns in his eyes, tells you that his emotion is anything but fear. One glance toward the city,—one thought perhaps of other days,—and he is ready.
Opposite, in the south, his hat drawn over his flaxen curls, his tall form enveloped in a close fitting frock-coat, Beverly with an uncertain eye and trembling hand, is nerving himself for the fatal moment. He is afraid. As he catches a glimpse of the face of Eugene, his heart dies within him. ”

“ Don't you see, Esther, how at every turn of life, I am met by the fatal whisper, 'There is negro blood in your veins!'"
"She was beautiful?"
"One of the fairest types of the Caucasian race, that ever eye beheld. Tall in stature, her form cast in a mould of enticing loveliness, her complexion like snow, yet blushing with roses on the lip and cheek; her hair, brown in the sunlight, and dark in the shade; her eyes of a shade between brown and black, and always full of the light of all-abounding youth and hope.—Yes, she was beautiful, transcendently beautiful! ”

“ He gazed at me, for the first time, with an earnest and searching gaze. His eyes, large and gray, and capable of the most varied expression, became absent and dreamy.
"You are very beautiful!" he said, as though thinking aloud,—"O, very beautiful! You will marry rich,—yes,—wealth and position will be yours at once."
And as the moon, rising over the brow of the hill, poured her light upon his thoughtful face, he took my hand and said:
"Frank, why is it that certain natures live only in the future or the past—never in the present? Look at ourselves, for instance. ”

“ That face wore a look of unmistakable chagrin.
"No time is to be lost—in a moment she will be here," thought Dermoyne—"can it be Madam Resimer?"
He advanced and shrouded himself in the darkness of the third stairway. Near and nearer grew the sound of footsteps—
"If she looks this way, as she descends the stairs, I am discovered," and Dermoyne could distinctly hear the beating of his heart.
The next moment the rustling of her dress was heard; her heavy strides resounded as she advanced; and then emerging from the passage, she reached the top of the second stairway. ”

“ It is a wax candle, placed in the front parlor, on a marble table, between a sofa and mirror, which reaches from the ceiling to the floor.
Joanna is sitting there alone, her golden hair neatly arranged about her blonde face; her noble form clad in a flowing robe of snowy whiteness. She is very beautiful. True, her face is very pale, but her lips are red and a flush burns on each cheek. True, beneath each eye a faint blue circle may be traced, but the eyes themselves, blue as a cloudless sky in June, shine with an intensity that almost changes their hue into black in the soft, luxurious light. ”

“ Soon he was in Broadway again, amid its glare and uproar, but he did not raise his head, nor turn his gaze to the right or left. Head drooped upon his breast and arms gathered tightly over his chest, he threaded his way through the mazes of the crowd, as absent from the scene around him, as a man walking in his sleep.
Arrived at the Astor House, he hurried to his room and changed his dress. Divesting himself of his fashionable attire—black dress-coat, scarf, white-vest—he clad himself in a single-breasted frock-coat, buttoned to the throat and reaching below the knees. ”

“ You will have your own mansion, your pair of servants, carriage and so-forth,—in fact, all the externals of a person of immense wealth. As my ward you will enter the first circles of society. The whole machinery of life at the Capital will be laid bare to your gaze, and with your hand upon the spring which sets that machinery in motion, you can command it to your will. You will not live, you will reign!"
"Tell me something," said Esther, in a low voice, her bosom for a moment swelling above the scarlet border of her robe,—"Tell me something of life at the Capital,—life in Washington City." ”

“ Yes, the beautiful form, the bosom which had once been the home of a pure and stainless love, and which had beat with the throb of sensual passion, were now attired in a shroud.
"Behold me, attired for the grave," she said,—and the tears started to her eyes,—"This morning, resolved to quit this life, which for me, has been a life of unutterable shame and despair, I prepared for my departure. Everything is ready. Come, Ernest, and behold the preparations for my bridal,—" she pointed to the couch; he rose and followed her. "I am in love with death, and will wed him ere an hour is gone." ”

“ But there is hope for us, Gulian—hope beyond these walls, where pollution is masked in flowers,—hope in some far distant scene, where, unclogged by the dark memories of the past, we will begin life anew, and seek the blessing of God, in a career of faith, of self-denial!"
"And then, Frank," said Nameless,—"should wealth ever be ours, we will devote it to the redemption of those who have suffered like us, and like us fallen." ”

“ There was all the hope of young manhood, in the dark eyes, on the cheeks rounded with health, and upon the warm lips full of life and love. A fresh countenance; one that you would have taken at sight for the countenance of a man of true nobility of heart and soul. It was the portrait of Gulian Van Huyden at twenty-one.
For a long time Ezekiel Bogart lingered silently in front of the portrait.
At last he left the chamber, locked the door,—first pausing to look over his shoulder toward the bed upon which Alice Van Huyden died,—and then slowly ascended to the upper rooms of the old mansion. ”

“ And, once more alone, Ezekiel rested his cheek on his hand, and again surrendered himself to thought.
"The child of Gulian must be found; Ninety-One cannot fail. If he is not found before four o'clock, all is lost—all is lost! Yes, if that child does not appear, this estate,—awful to contemplate in its enormous wealth,—will pass from his grasp, and the labor of twenty-one years will have been spent for nothing. The estate will pass into the hands of the seven, not one of whom will use his share for anything but the gratification of his appetites or the oppression of his kind." ”

“ As for Herman, he could not take his eyes away, but stood there with his gaze chained to the face of the sleeping girl; for she was sleeping—sleeping that dear, quiet sleep, which, in this world, never knows an awakening hour. In the language of the woman-fiend, she indeed "was well!" Dead, with the second life which she bore, dead within her. Poor Alice! She had only opened her wings in the world, to fold them again and die.
"Herman," whispered Godiva, "look at that! Are you not proud of your work?" ”

“ At the head of the stairway was a large and roomy apartment, warmed (like every room in the mansion) from an invisible source, which gave a delightful temperature to the atmosphere. There was a small workstand in the midst of the apartment, on which stood a lighted candle. A servant maid was sleeping with her head upon the table, and one hand resting upon a cradle at her side. In that cradle, above the verge of a silken coverlet, appeared the face of a cherub boy, fast asleep, with a rose on his cheek, and ringlets of auburn hair, tangled about his forehead, white as alabaster. ”

“ Hopes, fears, a picture of his father's home, the consciousness there was a taint upon his blood,—all whirled like lightning through his brain. But he did not stop to analyze his thoughts, but answered again,—as though the word was given to him,—in a single word, earnest in tone, and with a hearty grasp,—
"Willingly," he said.
A ray of pleasure flitted over the bronzed face of Bernard Lynn. But in an instant he was sad and earnest again. "Randolph, I have been thinking, and most seriously,—I beg you to listen to the result of my thoughts. ”

“ There, projecting from the bed-curtains his livid face,—there, with features distorted and eyes rolling, the last glance upon the evidences of wealth, which filled the chamber,—there, even as he clasped the minister by the wrist, he gasped his last breath, and was a dead man.
It was with an effort that Herman Barnhurst disengaged his wrist from the gripe of the dead man's hand. As he tore the hand away, a golden eagle fell from it, and sparkled in the light, as it fell. The rich man couldn't take it with him, to the place where he was going,—not even one piece of gold. ”