第18章

“Whatthingartthou？”saidthebrain-strickenyouth，drawing

nearthebedandtearingasunderitscurtains。“Whosevoicehast

thoustolenforthymurmursandmiserablepetitions，asifLady

Eleanorecouldbeconsciousofmortalinfirmity？Fie！Heapofdiseased

mortality，whylurkestthouinmylady’schamber？”

“OJervaseHelwyse。”saidthevoice-andasitspokethefigure

contorteditself，strugglingtohideitsblastedface-“looknotnow

onthewomanyouonceloved！ThecurseofHeavenhathstrickenme，

becauseIwouldnotcallmanmybrother，norwomansister。Iwrapped

myselfinPRIDEasinaMANTLE，andscornedthesympathiesof

nature；andthereforehasnaturemadethiswretchedbodythemediumof

adreadfulsympathy。Youareavenged-theyareallavenged-Nature

isavenged-forIamEleanoreRochcliffe！”

Themaliceofhismentaldisease，thebitternesslurkingatthe

bottomofhisheart，madashewas，forablightedandruinedlife，

andlovethathadbeenpaidwithcruelscorn，awokewithinthe

breastofJervaseHelwyse。Heshookhisfingeratthewretchedgirl，

andthechamberechoed，thecurtainsofthebedwereshaken，with

hisoutburstofinsanemerriment。

“AnothertriumphfortheLadyEleanore！”hecried。“Allhavebeen

hervictims！Whosoworthytobethefinalvictimasherself？”

Impelledbysomenewfantasyofhiscrazedintellect，hesnatched

thefatalmantleandrushedfromthechamberandthehouse。Thatnight

aprocessionpassed，bytorchlight，throughthestreets，bearingin

themidstthefigureofawoman，envelopedwitharichlyembroidered

mantle；whileinadvancestalkedJervaseHelwyse，wavingthered

flagofthepestilence。ArrivingoppositetheProvinceHouse，the

mobburnedtheeffigy，andastrongwindcameandsweptawaythe

ashes。Itwassaidthat，fromthatveryhour，thepestilenceabated，

asifitsswayhadsomemysteriousconnection，fromthefirstplague

stroketothelast，withLadyEleanore’sMantle。Aremarkable

uncertaintybroodsoverthatunhappylady’sfate。Thereisabelief，

however，thatinacertainchamberofthismansionafemaleformmay

sometimesbeduskilydiscerned，shrinkingintothedarkestcorner

andmufflingherfacewithinanembroideredmantle。Supposingthe

legendtrue，canthisbeotherthantheonceproudLadyEleanore？

byNathanielHawthorne

AYOUNGFELLOW，atobaccopedlarbytrade，wasonhiswayfrom

Morristown，wherehehaddealtlargelywiththeDeaconoftheShaker

settlement，tothevillageofParker’sFalls，onSalmonRiver。He

hadaneatlittlecart，paintedgreen，withaboxofcigarsdepicted

oneachsidepanel，andanIndianchief，holdingapipeandagolden

tobaccostalk，ontherear。Thepedlardroveasmartlittlemare，

andwasayoungmanofexcellentcharacter，keenatabargain，but

nonetheworselikedbytheYankees：who，asIhaveheardthemsay，

wouldratherbeshavedwithasharprazorthanadullone。

EspeciallywashebelovedbytheprettygirlsalongtheConnecticut，

whosefavorheusedtocourtbypresentsofthebestsmokingtobacco

inhisstock；knowingwellthatthecountrylassesofNewEngland

aregenerallygreatperformersonpipes。Moreover，aswillbeseen

inthecourseofmystory，thepedlarwasinquisitive，andsomething

ofatattler，alwaysitchingtohearthenewsandanxioustotellit

again。

AfteranearlybreakfastatMorristown，thetobaccopedlar，whose

namewasDominicusPike，hadtravelledsevenmilesthrougha

solitarypieceofwoods，withoutspeakingawordtoanybodybut

himselfandhislittlegraymare。Itbeingnearlyseveno’clock，he

wasaseagertoholdamorninggossipasacityshopkeepertoreadthe

morningpaper。Anopportunityseemedathandwhen，afterlightinga

cigarwithasun-glass，helookedup，andperceivedamancoming

overthebrowofthehill，atthefootofwhichthepedlarhadstopped

hisgreencart。Dominicuswatchedhimashedescendedandnoticedthat

hecarriedabundleoverhisshoulderontheendofastick，and

travelledwithaweary，yetdeterminedpace。Hedidnotlookasif

hehadstartedinthefreshnessofthemorning，buthadfootedit

allnight，andmeanttodothesameallday。

“Goodmorning，mister。”saidDominicus，whenwithinspeaking

distance。“Yougoaprettygoodjog。What’sthelatestnewsat

Parker’sFalls？”

Themanpulledthebroadbrimofagrayhatoverhiseyes，and

answered，rathersuddenly，thathedidnotcomefromParker’sFalls，

which，asbeingthelimitofhisownday’sjourney，thepedlarhad

naturallymentionedinhisinquiry。

“Wellthen，rejoinedDominicusPike，“let’shavethelatestnews

whereyoudidcomefrom。I’mnotparticularaboutParker’sFalls。

Anyplacewillanswer。”

Beingthusimportuned，thetraveller-whowasasilllookinga

fellowasonewoulddesiretomeetinasolitarypieceofwoods-

appearedtohesitatealittle，asifhewaseithersearchinghis

memoryfornews，orweighingtheexpediencyoftellingit。Atlast，

mountingonthestepofthecart，hewhisperedintheearof

Dominicus，thoughhemighthaveshoutedaloudandnoothermortal

wouldhaveheardhim。

“Idorememberonelittletrifleofnews。”saidhe。“OldMr。

Higginbotham，ofKimballton，wasmurderedinhisorchard，ateight

o’clocklastnight，byanIrishmanandanigger。Theystrunghimupto

thebranchofaSt。Michael’spear-tree，wherenobodywouldfindhim

tillthemorning。”

Assoonasthishorribleintelligencewascommunicated，the

strangerbetookhimselftohisjourneyagain，withmorespeedthan

ever，noteventurninghisheadwhenDominicusinvitedhimtosmoke

aSpanishcigarandrelatealltheparticulars。Thepedlarwhistledto

hismareandwentupthehill，ponderingonthedolefulfateofMr。

Higginbothamwhomhehadknowninthewayoftrade，havingsoldhim

manyabunchoflongnines，andagreatdealofpigtail，lady’stwist，

andfigtobacco。Hewasratherastonishedattherapiditywithwhich

thenewshadspread。Kimballtonwasnearlysixtymilesdistantina

straightline；themurderhadbeenperpetratedonlyateighto’clock

theprecedingnight；yetDominicushadheardofitatseveninthe

morning，when，inallprobability，poorMr。Higginbotham’sown

familyhadbutjustdiscoveredhiscorpse，hangingontheSt。

Michael’spear-tree。Thestrangeronfootmusthaveworn

seven-leaguebootstotravelatsucharate。

“Illnewsfliesfast，theysay。”thoughtDominicusPike；“but

thisbeatsrailroads。Thefellowoughttobehiredtogoexpress

withthePresident’sMessage。”

Thedifficultywassolvedbysupposingthatthenarratorhadmadea

mistakeofonedayinthedateoftheoccurrence；sothatourfriend

didnothesitatetointroducethestoryateverytavernandcountry

storealongtheroad，expendingawholebunchofSpanishwrappers

amongatleasttwentyhorrifiedaudiences。Hefoundhimselfinvariably

thefirstbeareroftheintelligence，andwassopesteredwith

questionsthathecouldnotavoidfillinguptheoutline，tillit

becamequitearespectablenarrative。Hemetwithonepieceof

corroborativeevidence。Mr。Higginbothamwasatrader；andaformer

clerkofhis，towhomDominicusrelatedthefacts，testifiedthat

theoldgentlemanwasaccustomedtoreturnhomethroughtheorchard

aboutnightfall，withthemoneyandvaluablepapersofthestorein

hispocket。TheclerkmanifestedbutlittlegriefatMr。

Higginbotham’scatastrophe，hinting，whatthepedlarhaddiscoveredin

hisowndealingswithhim，thathewasacrustyoldfellow，asclose

asavice。Hispropertywoulddescendtoaprettyniecewhowasnow

keepingschoolinKimballton。

Whatwithtellingthenewsforthepublicgood，anddriving

bargainsforhisown，Dominicuswassomuchdelayedontheroadthat

hechosetoputupatatavern，aboutfivemilesshortofParker’s

Falls。Aftersupper，lightingoneofhisprimecigars，heseated

himselfinthebar-room，andwentthroughthestoryofthemurder，

whichhadgrownsofastthatittookhimhalfanhourtotell。There

wereasmanyastwentypeopleintheroom，nineteenofwhomreceived

itallforgospel。Butthetwentiethwasanelderlyfarmer，whohad

arrivedonhorsebackashorttimebefore，andwasnowseatedina

cornersmokinghispipe。Whenthestorywasconcluded，heroseupvery

deliberately，broughthischairrightinfrontofDominicus，and

staredhimfullintheface，puffingoutthevilesttobaccosmoke

thepedlarhadeversmelt。

“Willyoumakeaffidavit。”demandedhe，inthetoneofacountry

justicetakinganexamination，“thatoldSquireHigginbothamof

Kimballtonwasmurderedinhisorchardthenightbeforelast，and

foundhangingonhisgreatpear-treeyesterdaymorning？”

“ItellthestoryasIheardit，mister。”answeredDominicus，

droppinghishalf-burntcigar；“Idon’tsaythatIsawthethingdone。

SoIcan’ttakemyoaththathewasmurderedexactlyinthatway。”

“ButIcantakemine。”saidthefarmer，thatifSquireHigginbotham

wasmurderednightbeforelast，Idrankaglassofbitterswithhis

ghostthismorning。Beinganeighborofmine，hecalledmeintohis

store，asIwasridingby，andtreatedme，andthenaskedmetodoa

littlebusinessforhimontheroad。Hedidn’tseemtoknowanymore

abouthisownmurderthanIdid。”

“Why，then，itcan’tbeafact！”exclaimedDominicusPike。

“Iguesshe’dhavementioned，ifitwas。”saidtheoldfarmer；

andheremovedhischairbacktothecorner，leavingDominicusquite

downinthemouth。

HerewasasadresurrectionofoldMr。Higginbotham！Thepedlarhad

nohearttomingleintheconversationanymore，butcomfortedhimself

withaglassofginandwater，andwenttobedwhere，allnight

long，hedreamedofhangingontheSt。Michael’spear-tree。Toavoid

theoldfarmer(whomhesodetestedthathissuspensionwouldhave

pleasedhimbetterthanMr。Higginbotham’s)，Dominicusroseinthe

grayofthemorning，putthelittlemareintothegreencart，and

trottedswiftlyawaytowardsParker’sFalls。Thefreshbreeze，the

dewyroad，andthepleasantsummerdawn，revivedhisspirits，and

mighthaveencouragedhimtorepeattheoldstoryhadtherebeen

anybodyawaketohearit。Buthemetneitheroxteam，lightwagon

chaise，horseman，norfoottraveller，till，justashecrossed

SalmonRiver，amancametrudgingdowntothebridgewithabundle

overhisshoulder，ontheendofastick。

“Goodmorning，mister。”saidthepedlar，reininginhismare。“If

youcomefromKimballtonorthatneighborhood，maybeyoucantell

metherealfactaboutthisaffairofoldMr。Higginbotham。Wasthe

oldfellowactuallymurderedtwoorthreenightsago，byanIrishman

andanigger？”

Dominicushadspokenintoogreatahurrytoobserve，atfirst，

thatthestrangerhimselfhadadeeptingeofNegroblood。On

hearingthissuddenquestion，theEthiopianappearedtochangehis

skin，itsyellowhuebecomingaghastlywhite，while，shakingand

stammering，hethusreplied：“No！no！Therewasnocoloredman！Itwas

anIrishmanthathangedhimlastnight，ateighto’clock。Icame

awayatseven！Hisfolkscan’thavelookedforhimintheorchard

yet。”

Scarcelyhadtheyellowmanspoken，whenheinterruptedhimself，

andthoughheseemedwearyenoughbefore，continuedhisjourneyata

pacewhichwouldhavekeptthepedlar’smareonasmarttrot。

Dominicusstartedafterhimingreatperplexity。Ifthemurderhadnot

beencommittedtillTuesdaynight，whowastheprophetthathad

foretoldit，inallitscircumstances，onTuesdaymorning？IfMr。

Higginbotham’scorpsewerenotyetdiscoveredbyhisownfamily，how

camethemulatto，atabovethirtymiles’distance，toknowthathewas

hangingintheorchard，especiallyashehadleftKimballtonbefore

theunfortunatemanwashangedatall？Theseambiguous

circumstances，withthestranger’ssurpriseandterror，madeDominicus

thinkofraisingahueandcryafterhim，asanaccompliceinthe

murder；sinceamurder，itseemed，hadreallybeenperpetrated。

“Butletthepoordevilgo。”thoughtthepedlar。“Idon’twant

hisblackbloodonmyhead；andhangingtheniggerwouldn’tunhangMr。

Higginbotham。Unhangtheoldgentleman！It’sasin，Iknow；butI

shouldhatetohavehimcometolifeasecondtime，andgivemethe

lie！”