The Three Brides, Love in a Cottage, and Other Tales Part 32

"Value received, I promise to pay Thomas Mayflower or order, one kiss on demand.

"AUGUSTUS SCATTERLY."

"There you have a legal doc.u.ment," said the young man, as he handed the paper to the grinning gardener. "And now, good folks, good by."

"Mistakes will happen in the best regulated families," and so it chanced that, in the autumn of the same year, our bachelor met at the Springs a charming belle of Baltimore, to whom he lost his heart incontinently. His person and address were attractive, and though his prodigality had impaired his fortune, still a rich old maiden aunt, who doted on him, Miss Persimmon Verjuice, promised to do the handsome thing by him on condition of his marrying and settling quietly to the management of his estate. So, under these circ.u.mstances, he proposed, was accepted, and married, and brought home his beautiful young bride to reside with Miss Verjuice at the Willows.

In the early days of the honeymoon, one fine morning, when Mr. and Mrs. Scatterly and the maiden aunt were walking together in the garden, Tom Mayflower, dressed in his best, made his appearance, wearing a smile of most peculiar meaning.

"Julia," said Augustus, carelessly, to his young bride, "this is my gardener, come to pay his respects to you--honest Tom Mayflower, a very worthy fellow, I a.s.sure you."

Mrs. Scatterly nodded condescendingly to the gardener who gazed upon her with the open eyes of admiration. She spoke a few words to him, inquired about his wife, his flowers, &c., and then turned away with the aunt, as if to terminate the interview.

But Tom could not take his eyes off her, and he stood, gaping and admiring, and every now and then pa.s.sing the back of his hand across his lips.

"What do you think of my choice, Tom?" asked Scatterly, confidentially.

"O, splendiferous!" said the gardener.

"Roses and lilies in her cheeks--eh?" said Scatterly.

"Her lips are as red as carnations, and her eyes as blue as larkspurs," said the gardener.

"I'm glad you like your new mistress; now go to work, Tom."

"I beg pardon, Mr. Scatterly; but I called to see you on business."

"Well--out with it."

"Do you remember any thing about saluting the bride?"

"I remember I paid the customary homage to Mrs. Mayflower."

"Well, don't you remember what you promised in case of your marriage?"

"No!"

Tom produced the promissory note with a grin of triumph. "It's my turn now, Mr. Scatterly."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean to kiss Mrs. Scatterly."

"Go to the deuse, you rascal!"

"O, what is the matter?" exclaimed both the ladies, startled by Scatterly's exclamation, and turning back to learn the cause.

"This fellow has preferred a demand against me," said Scatterly.

"A legal demand," said the gardener, st.u.r.dily; "and here's the dokiment."

"Give it to me," said the old maid aunt. Tom handed her the paper with an air of triumph.

"Am I right?" said he.

"Perfectly, young man," replied Miss Verjuice; "only, when my nephew married, I a.s.sumed all his debts; and I am now ready myself to pay your claim."

"Fairly trapped, by Jupiter!" exclaimed Scatterly, in an ecstasy of delight.

"Stop, stop!" cried the unhappy gardener, recoiling from the withered face, bearded lip, and sharp nose of the ancient spinster; "I relinquish my claim--I'll write a receipt in full."

"No, sir," said Scatterly; "you pressed me for payment this moment--and you shall take your pay, or I discharge you from my employ."

"I am ready," said the spinster, meekly.

Tom shuddered--crawled up to the old lady--shut his eyes--made up a horrible face, and kissed her, while Mr. and Mrs. S. stood by, convulsed with laughter.

Five minutes afterwards, Tom entered the gardener's lodge, pale, weak, and trembling, and sank into a chair.

"Give me a gla.s.s of water, Phebe!" he gasped.

"Dear, what has happened?" asked the little woman.

"Happened! why that cussed Miss Verjuice is paying Mr. Scatterly's debts."

"Well?"

"Well, I presented my promissory note--he handed it to her--and--and--O murder!--_I've been kissing the old woman!_"

Phebe threw her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips to his, and Thomas Mayflower then and there solemnly promised that he would nevermore have any thing to do with KISSES ON DEMAND!

THE RIFLE SHOT.

A MADMAN'S CONFESSION.

It is midnight. The stealthy step of the restless maniac is no longer heard in the long, cheerless corridors; the ravings of the incurable cannot penetrate the deep walls of the cells in which their despair is immured; even the guardians of the establishment are asleep. Without, what silence! The branches of the immemorial trees hang pendulous and motionless; the last railway train, with its monster eyes of light, has thundered by. The neighboring city seems like one vast mausoleum, over which the silent stars are keeping watch and ward, and weeping silvery dew like angels' tears. Only crime and despair are sleepless.

To my task. They allow me a lamp. They are not afraid that the _madman_ will fire his living tomb and perish in the ruins. Wise men of science! Cunning readers of the human heart, your decrees are infallible. I am mad. But perhaps some eager individual whose eyes shall rest upon these pages will p.r.o.nounce a different sentence; perhaps he may know how to distinguish _crime_ from _madness_.

A vision of my youth comes over me--a happy boyhood--a tree-embowered home, babbling brooks, fertile lawns--a father's blessing--a mother's kiss that was both joy and blessing--a brother's brave and tender friends.h.i.+p--and first love, that dearest, sweetest, holiest charm of all. O G.o.d! that those things were and are not! It is agony to recall them.

Pa.s.s, too, the brief Elysian period of wedded love. Julia sleeps well in her woodland grave. I was false to her memory.

If my boyhood were happy, my manhood was a melancholy one. A morbid temperament, fostered by indulgence, dropped poison even in the cup of bliss. I loved and I hated with intensity.