Could she arrive at a knowledge of his miserable and by
other than verbal means? I had heard of such extraordinary
copartnerships in being and modes of instantaneous intercourse among
beings locally distant. Was this a new instance of the subtlety of mind? Had she already endured his agonies, and like him already ceased to
breathe? Every hair bristled at this horrible suggestion. But the force of
sympathy might be chimerical. Buried in sleep, or engaged in careless
meditation, the instrument by which her destiny might be accomplished
was the steel of an assassin. A series of events, equally beyond the
reach of foresight with those which had just happened, might introduce,
with equal abruptness, a similar disaster. What, at that moment, was her
condition? Reposing in safety in her chamber, as her family imagined. But were they not deceived? Was she not a mangled corpse? Whatever were
her situation, it could not be ascertained, except by extraordinary
means, till the morning. Was it wise to defer the scrutiny till then? Why not instantly investigate the truth? These ideas passed rapidly through my mind. A considerable portion of
time and amplification of phrase are necessary to exhibit, verbally,
ideas contemplated in a space of incalculable brevity. With the same
rapidity I conceived the resolution of determining the truth of my
suspicions. All the family, but myself, were at rest. Winding passages
would conduct me, without danger of disturbing them, to the hall, from
which double staircases ascended. One of these led to a saloon above, on
the east side of which was a door that communicated with a suite of
rooms occupied by the lady of the mansion. The first was an antechamber,
in which a female servant usually lay. The second was the lady's own
bedchamber. This was a sacred recess, with whose situation, relative to
the other apartments of the building, I was well acquainted, but of
which I knew nothing from my own examination, having never been admitted
into it. Thither I was now resolved to repair. I was not deterred by the sanctity
of the place and hour. I was insensible to all consequences but the
removal of my doubts. Not that my hopes were balanced by my fears. That
the same tragedy had been performed in her chamber and in the street,
nothing hindered me from believing with as much cogency as if my own
eyes had witnessed it, but the reluctance with which we admit a
detestable truth. To terminate a state of intolerable suspense, I resolved to proceed
forthwith to her chamber. I took the light and paced, with no
interruption, along the galleries. I used no precaution. If I had met a
servant or robber, I am not sure that I should have noticed him. My
attention was too perfectly engrossed to allow me to spare any to a
casual object. I cannot affirm that no one observed me. This, however,
was probable from the distribution of the dwelling. It consisted of a
central edifice and two wings, one of which was appropriated to
domestics and the other, at the extremity of which my apartment was
placed, comprehended a library, and rooms for formal and social and
literary conferences. These, therefore, were deserted at night, and my
way lay along these. Hence it was not likely that my steps would be
observed. I proceeded to the hall. The principal parlour was beneath her chamber. In the confusion of my thoughts, I mistook one for the other. I
rectified, as soon as I detected, my mistake. I ascended, with a beating
heart, the staircase. The door of the antechamber was unfastened. I
entered, totally regardless of disturbing the girl who slept within. The
bed which she occupied was concealed by curtains. Whether she were
there, I did not stop to examine. I cannot recollect that any tokens
were given of wakefulness or alarm. It was not till I reached the door
of her own apartment that my heart began to falter. It was now that the momentousness of the question I was about to decide
rushed with its genuine force upon my apprehension. Appalled and aghast,
I had scarcely power to move the bolt. If the imagination of her death
was not to be supported, how should I bear the spectacle of wounds and
blood? Yet this was reserved for me. A few paces would set me in the
midst of a scene of which I was the abhorred contriver. Was it right to
proceed? There were still the remnants of doubt. My forebodings might
possibly be groundless. All within might be safety and serenity. A
respite might be gained from the execution of an irrevocable sentence. What could I do? Was not any thing easy to endure in comparison with the
agonies of suspense? If I could not obviate the evil I must bear it, but
the torments of suspense were susceptible of remedy. I drew back the bolt, and entered with the reluctance of fear, rather
than the cautiousness of guilt. I could not lift my eyes from the
ground. I advanced to the middle of the room. Not a sound like that of
the dying saluted my-ear. At length, shaking off the fetters of
hopelessness, I looked up. I saw nothing calculated to confirm my fears. Everywhere there reigned
quiet and order. My heart leaped with exultation. "Can it be," said I,
"that I have been betrayed with shadows?--But this is not sufficient." Within an alcove was the bed that belonged to her. If her safety were
inviolate, it was here that she reposed. What remained to convert
tormenting doubt into ravishing certainty? I was insensible to the
perils of my present situation. If she, indeed, were there, would not my
intrusion awaken her? She would start and perceive me, at this hour,
standing at her bedside. How should I account for an intrusion so
unexampled and audacious? I could not communicate my fears. I could not
tell her that the blood with which my hands were stained had flowed from
the wounds of her brother. My mind was inaccessible to such considerations. They did not even
modify my predominant idea. Obstacles like these, had they existed,
would have been trampled under foot. Leaving the lamp, that I bore, on the table, I approached the bed. I
slowly drew aside the curtain, and beheld her tranquilly slumbering. I
listened, but so profound was her sleep, that not even her breathings
could be overheard. I dropped the curtain and retired. How blissful and mild were the illuminations of my bosom at this
discovery! A joy that surpassed all utterance succeeded the fierceness
of desperation. I stood, for some moments, wrapped in delightful
contemplation. Alas! it was a luminous but transient interval. The
madness to whose black suggestions it bore so strong a contrast began
now to make sensible approaches on my understanding. "True," said I, "she lives. Her slumber is serene and happy. She is
blind to her approaching destiny. Some hours will at least be rescued
from anguish and death. When she wakes, the phantom that soothed her
will vanish. The tidings cannot be withheld from her. The murderer of
thy brother cannot hope to enjoy thy smiles.