Edward Barnett; a Neglected Child of South Carolina, Who Rose to Be a Peer of Great Britain, and th | Page 7

had long mourned you as dead--and they were to have been married when she became 20 years of age. It yet wanted two years of this time when our lord returned from abroad. He soon visited the house of his old playfellow, and was struck with the beauty of Ellen Hunter--but he too well knew the character of Horace Hunter to openly show it. The first step he took was to dismiss your father from the stewardship, under pretence of his being too old, and settling a pension on him. He did not wish the good old man near him--it was a living reproach on his bad deeds.'
'On the infamous practices of his race,' said the seaman sternly; 'bad father and bad son--but proceed.'
'He installed this man Lambert in your father's place--a cold, unfeeling man--a money-worshiper, and suspected of being only too willing an instrument in furthering his master's infamous designs. Lambert sedulously cultivated an intimacy with the Hunters--condoled with the mother, ingratiated himself with the young man, and affected unbounded friendship. Ellen, however, with the true instinct of a pure and innocent girl, shrank from his companionship; innocence will ever shrink with innate consciousness from baseness. He persuaded Hunter to rent a farm in addition to his own, and lent him money to speculate largely in breeding fancy sheep. The speculation failed--the agent pressed for payment. His master came forward and paid the amount. Thus he appeared as a benefactor, and Ellen's gratitude soon ripened into love; but her brother was in the way. He went to Erith to make some purchases for his mother and sister, and was kidnapped by a press-gang. Lambert had been there a few days before.'
'Ah, I understand,' said the seaman--'too plain. Fire them--what right have they to seize a free man as if he were a negro slave?'
'It's a shame,' said Mrs. Ally, 'but good King George--'
'Imbecile old ass,' said the mariner--'go on with your story.'
'The mother grieved for her son's absence--he wrote from the tender ship asking for his clothes, and to buy off his discharge. She applied to the Earl. He deceived her--gave her hope--promised to write to the Admiralty--was sorry, but the necessities of the war were such, substitutes were not allowed, and a discharge could not be granted. Within a year the mother died, and Ellen was left alone. Beautiful, helpless, with no one to protect her, was it a wonder she fell a victim to the vile plot laid for her? Her seducer wearied of her after two years, and offered to settle a pension upon her and wed her to his base instrument Lambert. She spurned the offer, and left the cottage where he had established her in splendid infamy. None knew whither she went, and no tidings have since been heard of her.'
The seaman was pacing the floor in stern and gloomy silence. He paused. 'And him?--what became of him?'
'He came back three years after,' said the landlady, 'in sailor's garb, but without a seaman's manner. He had learned dissipation, and was gloomy and fierce. He had heard of his sister's shame, and he swore a terrible revenge. The Earl was in London at the time, but had he been here, Horace would have attempted nothing then. "I will not strike him now," said he--"no! that were a poor revenge. I will tame his pride first--then destroy him. Mine shall be no vulgar vengeance."--He however wrote a passionate letter to the Earl demanding his acknowledgment of his sister as his lawful wife, and threatening terrible vengeance. This was idle, but I suppose it merely done to cover deeper designs. He returned to sea--was absent two more years, but re-appeared here some three months ago, since when he has been frequently seen about the neighborhood, and is supposed to subsist by poaching. Curly Tom, the ruffian you captured last night, has been much with him. He has again written to the Earl something which has made him furious--so your father told me, who had been there, the good old man, trying to make him forego his pursuit of poor Horace. There will be something terrible, I am sure. God help us, and avert it.'
'Say rather, let his righteous judgments fall upon that base man and his infamous house,' said the mariner sternly. 'You need tell me no more. I can picture my sweet child, pining, grieving over the lost character of him she loved--two families of victims. But shall not vengeance take its course? It shall--terrible and full. But a short space of time shall elapse ere he shall be stripped of rank and title, and then--'
'Walter, you rave.'
'I speak in earnest. I never threaten in vain. But I must act now. I must find Hunter. How to do that--'
'I will take you to him,' said the