The Amorous Intrigues and Adventures of Aaron Burr/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
An awkward predicament.—The mechanic's wife and Aaron Burr.—The mother-in-law and her daughter.
On the succeeding Sunday night, Burr repaired to the house fo Mrs. W—, and having ascertained that the husband had not yet returned, he entered the apartment were he had left the lady of the house.
She was there, and welcomed Burr with much warmth; but she was the prey to remorse. She declared that the misconduct of the doctor did not excuse her dereliction from the path of duty. Not caring to multiply words, Burr proceeded to administer consolation in his usual style, and the lady soon forgot her troubles in Elysium.
Burr urged the propriety of retiring to bed, where they could pursue their bent to more advantage. She resisted awhile, but finaly yielded her assent.
The pretty woman retired first, and having undressed, blew out the light, and got in between the sheets.
Burr went up in the dark, and placing his clothes on a chair near the door, where he could easily find them, turned down the coverlet, and rushed into the arms of Mrs. W—, who received him nothing loth.
They were soon buried together in untold bliss. This was repeated several times, and it was not far from midnight, when Burr felt a cold human hand laid upon his neck. He knew by the feeling that it was not the little soft hand of his companion, who, indeed lay panting and half-fainting by his side, unequal to any physical exertion.
It might be a servant, a somnambulist, or a robber: but it might also be the husband of the lady, and now he remembered that, in their heedlessness of all worldly matters, they had stolen off to bed without locking the front door.
"Clarissa!" said a well known voice, "is this you?"
"My God! how you scared me!" cried the startled wife; "why did you not bring a light?"
"But Clarissa, it is not your head that my hand rests upon. You are not on this side. You are over yonder—"
"Has that dog—as sure as the world, that Newfoundland dog of Mr. Fosdick's has crept in. Get out! oh! get out! cried she, kicking and pushing Burr, who took the hint, and tumbling out on the floor, ran along on all fours till he came to the door, when he snatched his clothes, and ran down the stairs.
But the husband, who had his suspicions, had thrown open the shutters—which were on the inside of the window—and saw Burr, by the bright moonlight, as he seized his wardrobe, and vanished out of the door. Accordingly he immediately gave chase; and the doctor was rather a dangerous customer, as he always traveled with pistols, and had a pair in his pockets, loaded and primed at that time.
Burr reached the hall door before the doctor had arrived at the landing of the stairs, and hastily turning the key, was about to dart down the steps, when he perceived two or three men passing near the house.
He at once perceived that a man flying in his shirt, from the house, pursued by the doctor, would compromise the reputation of Mrs. W—; and drawing back, he slammed the door violently, and turned aside into the front parlor, the door of which stood ajar.
The doctor flew down the stairs, and having heard the street door open and shut, supposed the intruder had gone out that way. He ran into the street, and hearing foot steps near the corner, drew out a pistol, and rushed up to the gentleman whom he found there.
The individual thus assailed had stopped behind some large sugar-boxes in obedience to a call of nature, and was "in the full tide of successful experiment," when the doctor seized him by the collar, dragged him out, roaring:
"Don't try to hide yourself there, you infernal scoundrel?"
"Why—why—what is the matter?" asked the other, trembling in every joint; and then seeing the pistol in the hand of the other, he bawled aloud: "Watch! watch! help! robber! robber! robber!"
Fortunately a watchman was close at hand, who came immediately up, and seized the doctor by the arm.
"How! Doctor W—!" said the officer; "what is the matter, sir?"
"This fellow, here," cried the doctor, vehemently, and shaking his victim at the same time—"I just caught in bed with my wife—"
"No, no, doctor! Impossible!"
"But I tell you that it is possible. Didn't I see him run out of the room with my own eyes. You see that he has not yet had time to button up his clothes, which he snatched from a chair as he ran out of the chamber," cried the doctor, pointing to the man's flap, which still hung down.
"No—but, Doctor W—, this gentleman is well known to me. He is the Rev. Mr. P—, of Concord."
The doctor let go of the stranger, and stared with all his eyes.
"Well, I believe you are right," said he "but where then is the man who has done this thing. He came out of the front door—"
"I guess not," interrupted the watchman. "I was opposite your house when I heard the door open and shut, but no one came out, until you made your appearance."
"Say you so? then the rascal has secreted himself in the cellar or in the back yard." And the doctor ran back to the house without stopping to apologize to the reverend gentleman whom he had shaken so violently, and frightened almost out of his senses.
When the doctor left the house, Burr justly presumed that he would soon return, and made the best use of his time. He slipped on his clothes, and had scarcely buttoned them when he heard the angry husband's footsteps on the pavement under the window. He fled to the back door, which he opened quickly and closed silently, just as his indignant pursuer entered the house. He ran through the yard to the back door of a house that abutted on the doctor's premises and plunged into the first apartment that presented itself; but not until he had bolted the door after him.
The doctor went down to the cellar with a light in one hand, and a pistol in the other, which gave Burr ample time to say to the lady of the house which he entered, and whom he found still up and engaged in sewing.
"Don't be alarmed, madam. I am an American officer, pursued by three virulent tories, who have sworn to take my life, as I officiated at the tarring and feathering of one of their number."
The lady at once banished her fears, and replied:
"Then, sir, you shall be protected as far as it can be done. We are no friends to the British here. They burned my father's house over his head, and we only ask that Washington and his army may drive the whole swarm of red coats out of the country."
"I am an officer of the army at Cambridge," was the brief reply of Burr, for the doctor had found nothing in the cellar, and was now thundering at the back door of the house which our hero had entered.
"There they are now!" exclaimed the lady.
"You may as well go to the door, and tell the rascals that I am not here; but ask them what they want first."
The lady ran out to the door, and cried:
"Who is there, and what do you want?"
"I am your neighbor, Dr. W—," was the reply; "I want a rascal who is concealed somewhere in the neighborhood, and I thought he might have entered your house."
"Merciful heaven!" said the woman to herself, "is the doctor among the tories? I'll never employ him in my family again as long as I live!" Then she added aloud:
"You see the door is fastened. How could he have got in here?"
"Very well, Mrs. G—, I beg your pardon. He has probably got over the fence and escaped."
Mrs. G— entered the room with a pleased smile on her countenance, but soon said:
"Do tell me, sir, if our neighbor, the doctor, is an enemy to his country too?"
"Certainly. One of the very worst kind, as he conceals his principals, and only avows himself when he gets a chance to strike down a patriot."
"The snake in the grass!" exclaimed Mrs. G—, bitterly. "Well, who can we trust in these days—unless, indeed they are soldiers like yourself, actually engaged in fighting for liberty."
"True, madam, but—"
Burr was interrupted by the husband of the lady, who called from an upper chamber:
"Come, my dear, are you not coming to bed yet?"
It was evident that the man had just been awakened by the doctor's noise at the door, or rather he was only half awake, to judge by the tone in which he spoke.
"I cannot come yet, Silas, for I must finish this jacket before I sleep, as Mrs. Pease wants it for her son to-morrow at farthest."
The good man seemed to have dropped immediately to sleep again.
"You must know," said the woman, in a low voice, to Burr, "that my husband is afraid to commit himself, as his employer is a bitter tory, though he don't make a noise about it, and if it was known that we hid you from your enemies, Silas would be turned off at once, and we find it hard enough now to make the two ends meet."
"Worthy woman," said Burr, who was immediately melted with compassion; "accept this, and rely upon more in a day or two."
Burr handed her a gold piece of some value, which she took, with a blush on her cheek, which made her really look handsome.
She was so young that Burr had, at first mistaken her for a girl. She was scarcely of the middling height, plump, and very lively, with small feet and hands, black eyes and hair, vermilion lips, and a good, wholesome complexion.
This young woman had been very merry in company before her marriage, and loved the beaux very much; yet it was not known that she had ever lost her virtue. She had married a man because she was in great haste to gratify those feelings which nature has bestowed upon the most chaste and prudent of her sex. But she had not made a choice commensurate with her necessities. Her husband married because he wanted to settle in life, and have a woman to take care of his wardrobe and cook his victuals. He never was much pleased with the society of the fair sex, and Mrs. G— soon discovered that his embraces were cold, and that her glowing charms inspired little admiration in her lawful companion. She should have married a very different man.
Burr detected the young creature in casting several glances at his person, and some of those glances were so directed as to give pretty sure evidence that his sex was not the least circumstance which recommended him to her protection and sympathy.
Burr commenced a conversation, and spoke alike with eyes and tongue. The result was, that before he had been in the house an hour, the amorous young woman was enjoying inexpressible transports, such as she had never before imagined. In her ecstacy, she overset a chair, which, in its turn, knocked down a Dutch oven, that came rattling upon the stone hearth.
The noise aroused the husband, who cried:
"Come, my dear, do tell me if you are going to set up all night?"
The entranced creature did not reply, in the hope that he would fall asleep again; but he immediately called out again:
"Sally! Sally! have you got asleep?"
"No-o-o!" cried she, wriggling with intense pleasure in the arms of Burr. "No-no-o! I am no-no-not aslee-slee-aslee-ee-eep. Not aslee-slee-oh! oh! slee-eep."
"Why don't you come to bed?" demanded he, aloud.
"Yes-yes-I'm com-um-um-um-ing-ing com-ing-ing-ing."
"What's the matter with you?" cried the man, now fairly awake.
"The cat has bit my finger, and it hurts so-o-o-o!"
"It sounds as if you were going into a fit," cried he; "like the highsterics!"
"Oh, yes, it fee-fee-ee-eels so-o-o-o!"
Just as the husband bounded out of bed, the young woman had experienced the final keen agony of joy, and by the time the good man had put on his breeches, and began to descend the stairs, she had sufficently sufficiently recovered her senses to cry—"Scat! scat! scat!" and to chase Burr with the broom, who, imitating the squall of a cat, ran to the front door, which the young woman opened hastily, and Burr darted into the street.
When Mrs. G— returned to the room, her husband was there.
"Now," said he, "don't let that cat ever come into the house again: if you do, I will tie a brick to her neck, and sink her in the river. Mark my words. But let us see where she bit you?"
"Oh! it was nothing—only I felt vexed at first."
"No, you don't speak the truth, for you are writhing and twisting your stern one way and another as if you felt dreadfully, just as one does when they can't stand still for the pain they are suffering."
"Well, well, look at it then," cried she, having bitten her finger slightly, just so as to start the blood.
"Vengeance!" exclaimed the husband. "The cretur has left the marks of her teeth, for I can see 'em as plain as day!"
"Well, the brute creature don't know any better, Silas, so let it pass."
Silas looked at his wife, whose cheerful manner was more like that of a person who was filled with the sweetest delights, than one who had received a bite from a cat, and he said to himself:
"The woman is very happy with me; that is certain. It takes me to render a woman happy."
In the last adventure, Burr had certainly conferred great pleasure upon a young and amorous woman, besides aiding her in a pecuniary manner, and these reflections were agreeable to him. He believed that no harm would result to any one concerned, as the husband would never know what had taken place.
In the other case, he feared that harm would ensue. There was something in the look and manner of Mrs. W— that enlisted his sympathy. He was certain that she had married from purely disinterested motives, and that he for whom she had sacrificed all, had flung her to the wind, and received another in her place. Yet why should he have done this? Burr had ample proof that her limbs were elegantly formed, and other more secret charms were ravishingly delightful, and that in the sexual act itself, she was eager and fervent.
As his person was unknown to Dr. W—, Burr visited the neighborhood, and finally became acquainted with the following facts: Dr. W— did not sleep at home that night. Weary with travel, and none the less so for having exhausted his physical powers with the New Hampshire beauty, he repaired to a public house, rather than to go through a scene with his wife before he had recruited his energies.
In the morning he went home full of wrath and vengeance. He found the servant, but not his wife. She had prudently gone to her mother's house in Lexington. Not doubting that his wife had gone to the maternal mansion, the doctor put his horse to the chaise, and drove out to the village.
His wife was not visible, but the old lady presented herself. She was a square-built dame, with embrowned cheeks, and large gray eyes, with sound teeth, and hair scarcely streaked with gray. One could not look upon that form and countenance without feeling that the old lady was equal to any emergency.
"Is my wife here?" asked Dr. W—, with the air of a deeply-injured man.
"Well, she is, sir," was the reply of the good lady, who smoothed down her apron, and shook her exhuberant locks, like a general placing his troops in order for battle.
"Then, madam, I must see her"
"Must is for the king, sir."
"In short, madam, she has defiled my bed, I caught a man in bed with her last night."
The old lady drew a long breath. She had supposed that the parties had only quarreled, and that her daughter had fled before the storm.
The charge was a serious one; but like Bunyan's Great-heart, who was at first knocked down upon his knees by the giant's club, she soon recovered herself, though her countenance remained quite pale, and she said:
"Do you say this of your own knowledge, sir?"
"I tell you that I saw the man in bed my wife, your daughter," cried the doctor, bravely, perceiving the impression he had made.
The old lady sighed, passed her hand over her brow, and said:
"Pray, sir, where were you, and what were you adoin' on when my darter was left with another man, as you say?"
"What was I doing?" said the doctor, eyeing the woman keenly, "why—why, I was out of town, as I am often obliged to be."
"You are obleeged to be, you say, sir, and what obleeges you to go and leave your wife every few weeks in these troublesome times, when the rig'lars is goin' about like a roarin' lion a seekin' somebody to devour?"
"We will not discuss that point, madam; but I will appeal to any respectable physician—"
"Well, if you won't 'scuss that p'int, sir, nyther will I s'cuss the tother p'int, and you may go back as empty as you came."
"I claim my wife, madam, and insist upon seeing her."
"That can't come to no good, sir. If your wife has done what you say, you don't want nothin' of her, without it is to abuse her for what she's done; and thar's a doubt in my mind whether you've got a right to do that."
"And why not? Don't she deserve it?"
"I'll tell you what, sir, If my darter really is guilty of what you say, then I tell you that every one says you are guilty of doin' the same thing, and that you have done it a great deal more than she ever did, and it's my opinion that 'what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,' and so you know my mind, and that's all I've got to say."
The old lady then retired to the kitchen to prepare dinner, and Doctor W— went out and walked alone in the woods. He could not but confess to himself that he had neglected his wife, and that he had been very intimate with a widow in New Hampshire, though not with a Miss Johnson, as falsely stated by Burr.
Another thing: the doctor had foolishly supposed that his wife had married him because she could not get any body else, and the fact that another man had sought her in his absence served to remind him of the attractions which she really possessed, and which had once inspired him with the most vehement desire.
Added to all this, the New Hampshire widow had become exorbitant in her demands upon his purse, and had grown petulent and even scornful because he did not supply her large demands.
"If even Clarissa has been false in my absence," said he, "what may not the other be? Doubtless she expends the large sums which she extorts from me on other lovers—perhaps upon some low country clowns, who, wanting funds of their own, make her pay for their vulgar embraces instead of paying her."
This thought decided him, and he returned to the mansion.
Although she had carried it so bravely in the presence of the doctor, like a poor old hen defending her one chicken from a hawk, yet the mother of Clarissa had been dreadfully pained by the discovery of her daughter's error. She sprinkled flour upon the asparagus, and pepper on the pudding; she made several other mistakes, and when she perceived them, she threw herself on a stool in one corner, and said:
"There! I shall never be myself again," and covering her face with her hands, she wept aloud, to the great wonder of the maid, who asked her if the rig'lars were coming back.
In the next moment the good lady was told that the doctor wanted her in the parlor. She dried her eyes and went to him.
"Tell Clarissa to come," said he, in a voice that the old lady understood, and went to her daughter who was, after some persuasion, induced to go down to her husband.
"Clarissa," he said, taking her hand, "we have both done wrong. Nothing is left but for us to forgive each other. But one man knew of your misconduct, and I have bribed him to silence. We may yet be happy."
Clarissa hid her face in his bosom, and the old lady kissed her son-in-law on the forehead and blessed him, while her tears flowed like rain.
This couple were, indeed, happy, for Doctor W— never afterwards alluded to the unfortunate subject, and ceased paying his visits to New Hampshire.
Clarissa, who had never given her husband credit for generosity, now loved and respected him. What more was needed?