Language cannot depict the horror which the contemplation of this b.l.o.o.d.y deed caused within me. True, I had myself slain a human being--but then it was done in self-defence, and amid all the heat and excitement of a personal contest. _This_ deed, on the contrary, had been committed, coolly and deliberately; and, although Mrs. Raymond"s wrongs were undoubtedly very great, I really could not find it in my heart to justify her in what she had done.
How bitterly I reproached myself for not having adopted some effectual means of hindering the performance of that appalling deed, even at the risk of incurring Mrs. Raymond"s severe and eternal displeasure! I felt myself to be in some measure an accessory to the crime; and I feared the law would, at all events, consider me as such.
"What is done cannot be helped now," said I to Mrs. Raymond, who stood calmly surveying the body of her victim--"come let us leave the house and seek safety in flight. We may possibly escape the consequence of this b.l.o.o.d.y act."
"No," said the woman--"_I_ shall not stir an inch. I have relieved the world of a monster, and now I am ready to receive my reward, even if it be the scaffold. But go, my friend--go, and secure your own safety."
"No, I will not leave you, even if I have to share your fate," was my reply. That was a very foolish determination, I admit; for how could my remaining with her, do her any good? I was merely placing myself in a position of the utmost peril. But I thought it wrong to desert Mrs.
Raymond in that dark and trying hour; and therefore, as she refused to escape, I resolved to remain with her.
Some one softly opened the door, and a female voice said--
"My dear, are you particularly engaged? May I come in?"
Hearing no reply, the fair speaker entered with a smile on her rosy lips. This lady was the newly-made wife of Livingston. She had been, of course, in happy ignorance of his true character, and of the fact that he was already the husband of several wives.
On seeing us, she evinced surprise, for she knew not of her husband having visitors. Suddenly, her eyes fell upon Livingston"s bleeding corpse, which lay upon the floor. On seeing this horrid spectacle, she gave utterance to a piercing scream, and fell down insensible.
That shrill, agonizing scream penetrated every part of the house, and brought all the inmates to the library, to see what had happened. Horror took possession of the group, as they gazed upon the awful scene. For a few minutes, there reigned the most profound silence. This was at last broken by one of the male servants, who demanded--
"Who has done this?"
"I did it," replied Mrs. Raymond, calmly, "I alone am guilty. Here is the weapon with which I did the deed. This young man here is entirely innocent; he tried to prevent the act, but I was too quick for him. Let me be conveyed at once to prison."
Officers being sent for, soon arrived and took us both into custody, notwithstanding the pa.s.sionate protestations of Mrs. Raymond that I had no hand whatever in the affair.
"That must be shown to the satisfaction of higher authorities than we are," said one of the officers. "At all events, it is our duty to secure this young man as a witness. If he is innocent, he will doubtless be able to prove it."
Half an hour afterwards, I was an inmate of the Pittsburg jail, in an apartment adjoining that occupied by Mrs. Raymond, whose real s.e.x still remained undiscovered.
CHAPTER VIII
_An Escape, and a Triumph._
After a few weeks" incarceration, Mrs. Raymond, in accordance with my advice, made known the secret of her s.e.x to the chief officer of the prison, to whom she also communicated the great wrongs which she had suffered at the hand of Livingston. The officer, who was a good and humane man, was deeply affected by this narrative. He immediately placed Mrs. Raymond in a more comfortable room and caused her to be provided with an abundance of female garments, which she now resumed. Her story, of course, was given in all the newspapers; and it excited the deepest sympathy in her behalf. One editor boldly a.s.serted that no jury could be found to convict the fair prisoner under the circ.u.mstances. As regarded my case, the propriety of my immediate discharge from custody was strongly urged, an opinion in which I fully concurred.
I shall dwell upon these matters as briefly as possible. I was first brought to trial, and the jury acquitted me without leaving their seats; Mrs. Raymond was merely convicted of manslaughter in the fourth degree, so great was the sympathy that existed in her behalf, and the judge sentenced her to be imprisoned during the term of two years. Although I considered her particularly fortunate in receiving a punishment so comparatively light, I resolved to effect her liberation in some way or other.
I may as well here remark that the last wife and victim of Livingston never survived the blow. She soon died of a broken heart.
My first step was to repair to Harrisburg, the capitol city of the State, in order to solicit Mrs. Raymond"s pardon from Governor Porter, who was renowned, and by some parties strongly condemned, for his constant willingness to bestow executive clemency upon prisoners convicted of the most serious offences.[K] I easily obtained an interview with his Excellency, whom I found to be a very clever sort of personage. Having made known my errand, and related all the particulars of Mrs. Raymond"s case, I urged her claims to mercy with all the eloquence of which I was master.
The Governor listened to me with attention; and, when I had concluded, he said--
"My inclination strongly prompts me to pardon this most unfortunate lady; but I have recently pardoned so many convicted prisoners, that the press and the people generally are down on me, and I really dare not grant any more pardons at present. I will, however, commute the lady"s sentence from two years to one."
With this partial concession I was obliged to be contented. The necessary doc.u.ments were made out, and with them I posted back to Pittsburg. When I entered the cell of my fair friend and told her what I had effected in her behalf, she burst into tears of grat.i.tude and joy.
One long year taken off her sentence, was certainly something worth considering.
"Courage, my friend!" said I, "even if you are obliged to serve out the remnant of your sentence, which I trust will not be the case, a year will soon pa.s.s away. I shall not leave Pittsburg until you are free. You will see me often; and I will take care that you are abundantly provided with everything that can contribute to your comfort. Keep up a good heart; you have at least one friend who will never desert you."
Three months pa.s.sed away, during which time I gained an excellent subsistence by writing for various newspapers and magazines. Three times every week I had an interview with Mrs. Raymond, whom I caused to be supplied with every comfort and luxury as allowed by the rules of the prison. She had just nine months to serve, when one day I was unexpectedly enabled to effect her liberation in the following manner.
I had called upon her, as usual. After an interview of about half an hour"s duration, I bade her adieu and left her apartment. To gain the street, it was necessary to pa.s.s through the office of the prison. In that office were generally seated three or four turnkeys, one of whom always went and locked Mrs. Raymond"s door after my leaving her.
Upon entering the office on the occasion to which I now refer, I found but one turnkey there, and he was _fast asleep_. I instantly resolved to take advantage of the lucky circ.u.mstance which good fortune had thrown in my way.
Hastening back to Mrs. Raymond"s cell, I briefly told her the state of affairs and bade her follow me. She obeyed, as might be supposed, without much reluctance. We pa.s.sed through the office and out into the street; but, before departing, I transferred the key from the inside to the outside of the door and locked the sleeping turnkey in, so that there could be no possibility of his immediately pursuing us, when he should awaken and discover the flight of his prisoner.
I was tolerably well furnished with cash, and my fair friend, at my suggestion, purchased an elegant bonnet and shawl--for, it will be remembered, she had resumed the garments appropriate to the female s.e.x.
As for myself, I was exceedingly well dressed, and no alteration in my costume was necessary, in order to present a respectable appearance.
I entertained no serious apprehensions of any great effort being made to capture the fugitive, she having had but nine months to serve, and being therefore a person of but little importance when viewed as a prisoner.
Moreover, I hoped that the kind-hearted chief officer of the prison would charitably refrain from making any extraordinary exertions in the matter. But these considerations did not prevent me from exercising a reasonable degree of caution.
We left Pittsburg that evening, for Philadelphia, where we arrived in due season. I immediately sought and procured employment as a writer, at a liberal salary. A few days after our arrival in Philadelphia, Mrs.
Raymond said to me--
"My dear friend, I am not going to remain a burden to you. Listen to the plan which I have to propose. I think of going upon the stage."
"What, and becoming an actress?"
"Yes. I flatter myself that my voice and figure are both pa.s.sable; and I really think that I possess some talent for the theatrical profession. A respectable actress always receives a good salary. If the plan meets with your approbation, I shall place myself under the tuition of some competent teacher; and my _debut_ shall be made as soon as advisable."
I did not attempt to dissuade Mrs. Raymond from carrying out this plan, which I thought, in fact, to be a very excellent idea. Once successfully brought out upon the stage, she would have a profession which would be to her an unfailing means of support.
According to the best of my judgment, she possessed every mental and physical qualification necessary to const.i.tute a good actress. Beautiful and sprightly, talented and accomplished--possessing, too, the most exquisite taste and skill as a vocalist and musician, I saw no reason why she should not succeed upon the stage as well, and far better, than many women a thousand times less talented. Therefore, encouraged by my cordial approbation of her plan, and acting in accordance with my recommendation, the fair aspirant to dramatic honors placed herself under the instructions of a popular and well-known actor, who was fully capable of the task which he had undertaken.
A few months pa.s.sed away, and my fair friend announced herself as being nearly in readiness to make her first appearance. I was delighted with the rapid and satisfactory progress which she had made. The recitations with which she occasionally favored me, were delivered in the highest style of the elocutionary art, and convinced me that she was destined to meet with the most unbounded success.
She proposed making her _debut_ as _Beatrice_, in Shakespeare"s glorious comedy, "Much Ado About Nothing,"--a character well calculated to display her arch vivacity and charming sprightliness. I saw her rehea.r.s.e the part, and was satisfied that she _must_ achieve a brilliant triumph,--an opinion that was fully concurred in by her gratified instructor, and also by the manager and several of the leading actors and actresses of the theatre.
The eventful evening came at last, and the house was crowded in every part. Seating myself in a private box in company with the actor who had instructed Mrs. Raymond, I awaited her appearance with the utmost confidence. The curtain arose, and the play commenced. When _Beatrice_ came on, a perfect storm of applause saluted her. Her appearance, in her elegant and costly stage costume, was really superb. Perfectly self-possessed, and undaunted by the sea of faces spread out before her, she went on with her part, and was frequently interrupted by deafening shouts of approval. The _Benedict_ of the evening being a very fine actor, and the _Dogberry_ being as funny a dog as ever created a broad grin or a hearty laugh--the entire comedy pa.s.sed off in the most admirable manner; and, at its conclusion, my fair friend being loudly called for, she was led out in front of the curtain by _Benedict_. A shower of bouquets now saluted her; and, having gracefully acknowledged the kindness of the audience, she retired.
This decided success caused the manager to engage Mrs. Raymond at a liberal salary. She subsequently appeared with equal success in a round of the best characters; and the press, and every tongue, became eloquent in her praise. She was now in a fair way to acquire a fortune as great as the one which she had lost through the villainy of Livingston.
Thinking her worthy of a higher position than that of a mere stock actress, I advised her, after a year"s sojourn in Philadelphia, to travel as a _star_. To this she eagerly a.s.sented, and accordingly I accompanied her to New York, where she was immediately engaged by the late Thomas S. Hamblin, of the Bowery Theatre.[L] Her success at this popular establishment was unprecedented in the annals of dramatic triumphs. Night after night was she greeted by crowded, enthusiastic and enraptured audiences. In short, she became one of the most celebrated actresses of the day.
FOOTNOTES:
[K] It is related of Governor Porter as an ill.u.s.tration of his pardoning propensities, that once, after his term of office had expired, a gentleman accidentally ran against him in the street. "I beg your pardon," said the gentleman. "I cannot grant it," said Mr. Porter, "for I am no longer Governor."
[L] I have not, for reasons that will be easily understood, given the name which Mrs. Raymond a.s.sumed, after her adoption of the dramatic profession.