Original. THE DIVORCE. A ROMANCE OF STATEN ISLAND. (Concluded.) MRS. Egbert Greenwood's house and grounds, which her former husband had purchased for seven hundred, she now sold for twenty thousand dollars!-Egbet purchased land in a fine situation a few miles in the interior of the island, upon which he built a large and elegant mansion and surrounded it with every comfort and luxury. Old Mrs. Connor was dead, and as she had nothing to leave to her daughter, Mary took up her abode with her aunt, and opened a small school with which she supported herself, her aunt not being in cir cumstances to assist her. Before that time, however, a change had passed over the hearts of Egbert and Mary. Their eyes were opened; they saw into the state of each other's hearts, and bitterly repented the folly that had separated them. How it came about would be difficult to say. No word had been spoken between them, but, trifles, as light as those which caused their illusion, had contributed to clear their vision. The first thing which startled Egbert, was the marriage of Anthony Allen to a young girl, to whom he had been betrothed for several years. Mary then had not been engaged to him. For whom, could she have so suddenly cast him aside, there was no one who had stepped between them-could he have mistaken her sentiments ? he watched her day by day grow more pale more thin; she seemed like one on whose heart something was weighing heavily. Had he rashly blighted her happiness as well as his own!-the thought was distracting and he labored to banish it. One afternoon he was invited with his wife by Mrs. Van Pelt, the tailor's lady, to take tea there, for a gathering of the villagers was expected. Mrs. Greenwood and the other ladies had gone at four o'clock, while few of the gentlemen made their appearance before tea, which took place two hours later. When Egbert arrived, the ladies were all engaged busily knitting, sewing, and chatting in the parlor, and Egbert seated himself with Mr. Van Pelt, who with several others were smoking their pipes on the piazza. His wife soon espică him. "Mr. Greenwood," she called, "do come in and chat with us, instead of sitting there in a corner as solemn as an owl." He moved up, and leant on the window near which she was sitting. "If I had known you would have grown so stupid," she said gaily, "I would not have married you, I assure you. He thinks he must be upon his dignity now," she added winking and smiling to her companions, "he is master of a house, and of me. But I do not like it, I tell him he is changed for the worse. Your grave, sober folks do not suit me." "She has never been well since that day. She owns to riding without her shawl, and it was damp, and so she took a bad cold.” Egbert, also, remembered that day, and now too late, he saw, while reviewing the past-how they had misunderstood each other. How she had at first, perhaps, accidentally turned from him, while he, too sensitive had hung back and neglected her he saw her proud and tender spirit had taken fire and their trifling contretemps, had brought them to this bitter pass. The truth had, also, by slow degrees forced itself upon Mary, and instead of adding to her regret, healed her wounded spirit-Egbert had loved her; he did not deceive her, and the bitterness of life was passed away. When Mrs. Greenwood expressed her surprise at Anthony's marriage, and told Mary, she and her husband had firmly believed her engaged to her cousin; and described their supposed courting while riding home, the scales fell from Mary's eyes. She remembered turning from Egbert at first, to her cousin, she thought over every thing, and now that the mist of pride and passion had dispersed, she saw in all that passed, in Egbert's wild vivacity and devotion to Elizabeth Watson; and in his hasty marriage, a spirit maddened by her apparent faithlessness and eager to conceal its pangs. They sepa rated; Egbert and his wife to their new mansion, and Mary to her humble school. A large dark ship had been lying some time off the Quarantine at Staten Island, waiting the permission of the health officer to land her passengers. At length, he of the yellow flag, being propitious, the voyagers were soon transferred from the ship to the steamboat Bolivar which took them to New-York; some, to great expected friends, some to take another start on to the 'far west.' One alone bade his fellow passengers adieu and took his way up to the village hotel. He was a fine athletic man, apparently about forty; bronzed by travel, and a southern sun, almost to a mulatto hue, and his dress was that of a sailor with an odd admixture of articles from a foreign wardrobe; among which a large Marriage has altered Mr. Egbert," observed Mrs. brown beaver Spanish hat, surrounded by a silver bandPatten. "He has sown his wild oats now." "Talking of altered people," said Mrs. Van Pelt, "I have never seen any one so changed as Mary Connor this last year. I am afraid she is going into a consumption." Egbert turned away his head to conceal his emotion. Something is the matter with her, I believe," said was the most conspicuous. He gazed delightedly around upon each well remembered object. Nature is the same," he said, "but art has done much for this fair island. This town has grown beyond my remembrance, and here I feel a stranger-I must at once to my loved home. Ha! a stage to Richmond! that is lucky,"—his eyes had fallen upon a long yellow vehicle, bearing the style and title of Richmond Village How I will surprise them! I suppose they thought me Stage,' which was standing near the wharf. "Here, dead." good fellow driver! can you take me to Rich "You seem mighty confident of finding every thing as you left it at home," said Silas drily. "How do you know there will be any to surprise-folks do die sometimes." "Oh, I am not afraid!" replied the stranger gaily. "I was always a believer in signs and presentiments, and I have felt so happy ever since I first came in sight of my native shore it is impossible but that I shall find them all alive and well. Sorrow cannot be nigh me when I am so joyous. I shall again see my wife with her bright merry face, shining with happiness." "Don't be too sure,-if she thinks you dead maybe she has married again." "Not she! Elizabeth loves me too dearly ever to marry another even, if I were dead, and she would wait for me ages,-oh, driver, she is the soul of constancy!" "I guess we are," said Silas. "The town folks come over here and give us just what we ask for our houses and lands. No body can keep a house over his head, In silence they drove along for some time; at last the the speculators offer so much he has to sell it. They traveller observed, I see so many alterations and imare going to make one big city all over the island, Iprovements all around me that I suppose I shall see Cherrytown changed." believe. "I should be sorry "I hope not," said the stranger, to see all these pretty cottages, groves and shady lanes, covered with streets." "Aye, that you will!" said Silas, "it is no longer a village. They have a steamboat, lots of new houses, a great hotel; and they are going to have a rail-road." "Dear me; that is indeed a change. You are stirring folks here." "Aint we! we know a thing or two on old Staten. Go ahead! is our motto. Do you see that grand house far away on the top of a green hill;" asked the driver pointing with his whip to an elegant mansion just peep The island always rich in beauty, never appeared to the weary voyager, as it now did, after many years of absence, and a tedious voyage over the ocean. While riding along, farms, and elegant villas without number, met his view. The rich clover fields were all in bloom. Trees hung full of growing fruit, while numerous pretty country seats, charmed him with their neat white fences, lawns, and gardens gay with flowers, and piazzas halfing out from a grove of trees on the summit of one of hid with, clustering vines. Between the green hills, long picturesque glades wound up into the interior; while to vary the scene, from every opening between the trees, or from the top of every eminence, a view was caught of the deep blue sea, 'the ever rolling sea,' with many a white sail glittering in the evening sun. The stranger gazed around on these lovely scenes with increasing delight. 6 "I have travelled far and wide," he said, "but never have mine eyes beheld so glorious a spot as this isle of beauty! But it is my own my native land,' and that, would render it beautiful in my eyes even were it less enchanting. Ah, how I have wished and yearned for this hour! Yes, isla bella! I have seen you in my dreams, and longed to gaze on you, in my waking hours, for many a weary year." "You have been away long then ?" inquired Silas. "Yes, many years." "Dear me, from home?" "No, never! Not one word, one line, for ten long years!" how bad. But I suppose you often heard "Bless me! they ought to write to you." "They knew not where I was. Our ship was taken by the pirates in the West Indies. We were wrecked on a desolate isle when all who were not drowned were murdered by the remaining pirates. I was left for dead in a dreary cavern, and only revived to be carried off a prisoner with the pirates, who were all thrown into a South American prison. After various adventures I am, thank God, safe and sound among christian again. those verdant hills which run through the centre of the island." "Santa Maria! as we say in South America, what a view they must have there!" "Well, that is called Bella Mira, which I have hearn tell means Pretty View-it was built by one of the He sold his place Cherrytown folks some time ago. in the village to the York Speculators, and with the money built this handsome house." "A Cherrytown man?-pray what is his name." "One Egbert Greenwood." "Ah, I remember Egbert-son of farmer Greenwood of West Kills. He was a youth of twenty when I left here. And so he lives in this fine house. Is he married, driver?" "Oh yes. He married a rich widow of Cherrytown and that's the way he got his money." "A widow? relic of some of my old friends. Do you remember her name?" "She was a Mrs. Elizabeth Watson." The stranger grasped the driver's arm and gazed fearfully into his face. "Mrs. Watson! what Watson! Driver! speak!" "Lord how you scare a body! Why I dont know rightly, I go there so seldom; but I hearn tell her husband went to the West Ingis on business and was shipwrecked many years ago.” A loud groan startled Silas, and turning to his passenger, he found him leaning against the side of the stage, his face covered with his hands, trembling in every limb." "Why, what's the matter with you, stranger?" ||senting a long range of green roofs, hanging with rich asked the alarmed driver. "Aint you well?" The traveller could not answer. "Shall I stop for some water? Poor fellow," he thought, "he has just come from ship board, and aint used to our joggling stages. Perhaps I had better stop a moment?" "Yes, stop," said the stranger faintly. Silas checked his horses; and the stranger folding his arms, leaned against the side, and gazed long and sadly upon the house of Bella Mira, which was directly before him. The driver, who was looking at him, pitied from the bottom of his soul, the poor sick stranger, whose pallid face, so expressive of wretchedness, preɛented a complete contrast to the glowing countenance, which joy and hope had rendered so radiant a few minutes before. He seemed no better but grew worse; he became more haggard: the perspiration started on his forehead while a large tear occasionally swelled in his eye, and rolled down his sunburnt face. Silas was puzzled what to do, and was on the point of driving to a neighboring house to summon help, when with a heavy sigh, the stranger aroused from his reverie. violet and white clusters. From beneath one of these emerged a gentleman bearing a basket of grapes which he had just culled; apparently the happy owner of the paradise around him. The hall door opened and a lady elegantly attired ran down the steps towards the grapery. It was Elizabeth Greenwood. At the sight of her, the stranger groaned in agony unutterable. His worst fears were confirmed; and the driver's tale was true. She to whom he had looked as a solace for his woes; she who had been like the Star of the North to him, in all his wanderings; his wife, his Elizabeth, was lost to him. She was another's! The sufferings of the last ten years, when half murdered, a prisoner, squalid with wretchedness he wandered in a foreign clime, were nothing to the misery of that hour. After the first acute pangs were over he turned to look upon her again. She was assisting her husband who was gathering fruit, and the heat of the morning had brought a warm glow to her cheek. "Years have passed gently over her," murmured the stranger, gazing fondly upon her. "The same light step, the same bright cheek. Ah, how lovely she is!Oh, Elizabeth! could I have believed this-I deemed "Here is your fare, driver," he said in a low sad that even death would not have given you to another, tone" I can go no farther. "Where be you going? there is no house near." "I shall walk-riding does not agree with me." "Why you are too ill to walk, and Richmond is some miles off, and Cherrytown farther still." In spite of the driver's remonstrances the singular traveller persisted in leaving the stage; and descending, seated himself on a stone by the road side. Silas was loath to leave him, but at last drove on, determined to send some one to him from the next house. As soon as the stage disappeared the traveller sprang over a wooden fence and took his way up among the hills. Rapidly he wound along, nor stopped until he found himself upon a little eminence covered with chesnut trees, from which he obtained a full and distinct view of the house which had attracted his attention from the road beneath. Before him stretched a large and well cultivated farm, rich with clover fields, corn and grain, and orchards, and gardens, all glowing with a thousand varied tints, under a brilliant midday sun. but now, living and loving I return to find you in another's arms. Faithless one!-I am then forgotten. Have I, for days and nights, for years looked to my return to your. side, as to heaven, to see you lost to me thus!" In misery too great to support, the unhappy wanderer threw himself on the ground and wept. With a start he sprang up, determined to make himself known; to chase the intruder away, and claim his wife as his own; but, as he gazed down on the apparantly happy husband and wife, returning gaily to their pleasant home, laden with fruit, his mood changed. "How can I bear, serpent-like to streal into their Eden! Happy as they are, shall I like a demon of discord, burst into their presence bringing dismay, confusion, aye, perhaps blood! Shall I destroy the peace of mind of my beloved Elizabeth? She believed me dead; she has forgotten me, and forgotten let me remain! Oh, that the waves had indeed swallowed me with the rest of our crew." The unhappy Watson remained many hours peing round that little grove unable to decide on the course he ought to pursue. Had he been a reckless man, one possessing vivid and impetuous passions, he would have rushed instantly into the presence of Greenwood and his wife; and reproaches, terror, and crime would have followed: but, Watson was always a peaceful and tender hearted man, possessed of a kind and feeling A tasteful white plastered house arose in the midst, having pillars in the centre, which arose to the roof, iron balconies painted green, and blinds of the same color in the wings relieved the vivid brightness of the mansion's front. From the house was an extensive pros-heart which would lead him rather to sacrifice his own pect over sea and land. In front, a fair geen lawn sloped down ornamented with rich groups of trees, like Wordsworth's lawn a carpet all alive happiness, rather than produce the distress which his presence would create. His wife was faultless in his eyes, and so truly, so disinterestedly did he love her, that, rather than ruffle the current of her life, he would With shadows flung from leaves." retire in silence and leave her to her happier lord. The The spot on which the traveller stood overlooked the struggle was great ere Alfred Watson could resolved to garden, laid out with fanciful beds and glittering with resign his claims. Day had passed! the stars were out flowers of various dyes, and surrounded with trees laden by two's and three's and still the miserable man had with fruit. The crimson peach, yellow pear and purple decided on nothing. Resolved as he was to retrace his plum were there in profusion adding to the gorgeous footsteps from that dear home he had come so far to show. An extensive grapery adorned the garden, pre-scek, yet he could not tear himself away. "Elizabeth!" it cried. Its voice like the hollow-tone of a passing bell: with one wild shriek she fled through the arched vaults, stopping not until she sank on the grass at the feet of Greenwood. Oh, Egbert!" she cried-"I have seen my husband!" "My wife! my Elizabeth! must I leave you, without || limbs were paralysed; but, with a horrid fascination one word, one embrace, and leave you to another! My which she was unable to resist, she continued as imGod! let me not live! strike me with some sudden and moveable as the figure, her eyes fastened upon his. subtile disorder that will close my weary existence !" The sufferings of Watson were too great for even his enduring nature, and his senses began to give way. He wandered around through fields and woods, in a partial delirium that whole night, and when morning dawned many a mile lay between him and Bella Mira. Mr. and Mrs. Egbert Greenwood led a gay although! The swoon of Elizabeth lasted until she arrived at not a happy life. The contrast between her present home. A physician was sent for, and she was placed indifferent and gloomy husband and the kind and affec- in bed. A high fever and delirium came on which tionate Watson often forced itself upon Elizabeth, and lasted until the next day during which she raved inshe welcomed with pleasure the throng of company cessantly of her husband, her Arthur! If Egbert which from the city came to her hospitable mansion. attempted to go near her, she waved him from her with To Egbert this was not annoying, as it assisted him to wild cries of distress. What this all meant, no one drive away thought. If at any time he found their could tell. Egbert was persuaded she had seen some presence troublesome he did not hesitate to leave his wandering person in the vault, which, in her fright she guests to his wife, while he employed himself in agri- had conjured into the spectre of her long deceased cultural pursuits or wandered among the shady groves husband. Distressed by the sudden illness he watched around his new residence. At the close of an oppres- over her with the greatest devotion. The fever being sive September day, the carriages drove to the door of at length subdued, delirium vanished, and Dr. Squills Bella Mira, and Mrs. Greenwood with her guests sat recommended quiet to her, and all in the house. Egout for a drive. A fresh evening air relieved their lan-bert was sitting sadly by the window in his wife's room guid frames, and a light dew sent forth delicious perfumes from flower and tree; Mrs. Greenwood had promised to take them a new direction to view the telegraph and ruins of Fort Richmond. The telegraph they found very amusing, and they examined with attention this wonderful machine working its huge arms to acquaint persons in the city, with the first appearance of a ship far out to sea. The ruinous fort found many admirers in the young and romantic, who gazed with interest upon its grim looking block house, crumbling walls, and ruined arches, presenting a melancholy contrast with its bright neighbor, Fort Hamilton, which stood on the opposite shore, its gay banner fluttering in the fresh sea breeze; while the setting sun flashed back from the arms of the sentinels who slowly paced before it. Far out in the water, below Fort Hamilton stands Fort Lafayette, grum, dark and solitary, like some lone wretch who has outlived all he loved, all who loved him, moving among his kind "one of them but not of them." Below the hill upon which our party stood was an ancient circular battery, not in the ruinous condition of its neighbor above, nor as well appointed as its flaunting vis-a-vis; it resembled some relic of an ancien regime, who scorns all that is modern, and prates of the good old times that are gone. Evening was darkening around, and most of the party refused to enter the gloomy chambers of the ruins; but one lady and gentleman having expressed a wish to examine them, Mrs. Greenwood volunteered to be their valet de place. They wandered among the cold dark vaults, Mrs. Greenwood a little before them; and as they lingered she insensibly found herself far ahead, and sat down on a large stone to await them. A deep sigh disturbed the silence around her. She started with afright and gazed fearfully into the darkness beyond. The faint light still remaining showed her a tall object leaning against the dark green wall of the vault; its arms were folded, its face shaded by a large foreign hat, while its wild mournful eyes, were fixed intently upon the face of the terrified lady. Her breath stopped, her when she drew the curtain of her bed and called to him. He stepped anxiously to the bedside, and would have taken her hand in his, but she drew it away as at the touch of infection. Egbert, I have one request to make," she said, in a faint voice. "You must seek another dwelling this day, this hour-Egbert, we must part!" He had believed her recovering; but at this evidence of still unsettled intellect, he turned away with a sigh, begging her to remember the injunction of the physi cian and remain silent. "You believe me distracted-I have been so I know; but now, Egbert Greenwood, I am in my senses: listen to me seriously. Egbert 'I speak forth the words of truth and soberness,'" she added, raising on one arm, and tossing back the disordered ringlets which had fallen over her fine face; "I am no more mad than Holy Paul: I saw my husband in the ruined Fort! He is alive, Egbert! and oh, what then am I?" sinking back, she covered her face with her hands, through which the tears flowed in torrents. "My dearest wife." "Call me not thus, or I shall go frantic!" 'Compose yourself: you have been deceived by some shadow, which your imagination has conjured into the representation of one long dead." "No-no! It is not so. If I had seen him as he left me, I might believe this; but he was in a foreign garb, travel worn. He has returned. He had heard of my marriage, and has sought those dreary retreats to hide his misery from all eyes!" and again she wept bitterly. "Why are you here?" she cried, starting wildly up in bed. "With my husband so near me shall I suffer you here? Go! or ill as I am I will rush out in the fields, rather than remain with you. Go, Mr. Greenwood!" "I will do any thing you wish, Elizabeth, if you will be quiet." "Go then to the Fort-seek him out. Tell him I would see him. Not that I expect to be received again to his favor-no: I am unworthy of it. I-the mistress || your wife has sent me to you. She is dying, and her of Greenwood! the unfaithful wife! Oh! agony!" "Calm yourself, Elizabeth-you have not been in error. You believed him dead — we all believed it. And if he be indeed alive-" "If he be? I tell you he is alive," she cried, violent: ly. "Go to him, Egbert-tell him I believed he was beneath the waves-tell him I love him yet, but ask nothing from him except his forgiveness, and without that I cannot die." spirit stays but for your forgiveness." "My wife! What wife?" replied the wanderer, unconsciously repeating the words of the Moor. "I have no wife." "Have you forgotten Elizabeth, who was once your wife?" Once! and a groan followed this mournful word, so expressive of hopes and joys for ever flown. "I tell you she is dying, and would see you. Comeshe is awaiting you." 66 "No, no! I cannot see her," said her husband, throwing himself on his low seat again, with a bitter "Not see her? Can you refuse your pardon to a dying woman? You are cruel, barbarous." "Tell her I have nothing to forgive. I never blamed her-but I cannot see her, it would shake what little reason I have. I am not myself, and sometimes I fear my senses are leaving me." Egbert felt severely the sufferings of the sorrowing Watson, of which he might justly call himself the cause. His pride and waywardness had already wrecked the happiness of two, and here was a third to add to the number of his victims. With little effort he removed the boards and stood beside the wanderer. "Who are you that intrude upon my sorrows?" he asked as Egbert entered. "A friend of Elizabeth's, and one who would befriend you. Let me urge you to hasten to your dying wife. She still loves you; her present illness proves it. She was told you were dead when she married. Every one thought so." "Aye, and I ought to have died! but I cannot die. The waves refused to swallow me-the pirate struck feebly-dungeons opened to free me, and now, although my heart is broken, the earth will not receive me." Egbert endeavored in vain to quiet his wife. She still persisted in the truth of her story, and he left her to seek the mysterious inhabitant of the ruins. He wan-sigh. dered and called in vain, and began to be convinced his wife had been deceived. The keeper of the telegraph, to his inquiries, replied, he had seen an odd, wretched looking man about there, who never crawled out till near night; and then went round to the neighboring houses to beg. At night fall Egbert returned, and so stationed himself, that unseen, he might perceive the approach of any one to or from the Fort. Hours passed away and nothing was seen. Weary with watching, Egbert threw himself upon the brow of the hill, and gazed out with delight on the prospect before him. Long Island lay like a map beneath him-its pretty rural residences breathing comfort and repose. On the right were New Jersey's varied shores; the hills of Neversink, and in front the deep blue sea in all its glorious and mysterious beauty; with nothing between his eye and far-distant Europe, save, here and there, some voyager's bark moving over the face of the water in slow and solemn march. A haze arose from the sea as evening came on, and threw a veil over the scene. Soon after, night's curtain descended, and shut out all except here and there a twinkling light which told of the residence of man. Pale, soft stars-young timid beauties! stole gently forth to light the darkening world, like pity at a suffering sister's couch. The mournful cry of a lonely whippoorwill, accompanied by the musical cadence of the catidid, and the rush of the waves among the sands, combined, by their monotony, to lull the senses of the watcher; his eyes closed and he fell into a deep slumber. How long he slept Egbert knew not; but was suddenly awakened by music near him. Starting up he gazed around. The night was cloudy and intensely dark: all lights were extinguished except the ever burning Light House at Sandy Hook. Egbert listened, and now he distinctly heard a hymn sang in a low sad tone. The voice came from the Fort; and, springing up, Egbert set out in search of it. There was just light enough to show the ruined arches, beneath one of which he passed, and groped his way through the dark sepulchral vaults until he drew near the singer. A partition of boards across the vault impeded his further progress. As he touched the boards the voice ceased; and the lonely inhabitant of that dreary abode was hastily rising to fly from his pursuer. Egbert knew prompt measures were necessary to insure his attention, or he would escape to some inaccessible retreat where it would be impossible to find him; he therefore at once called him by name: "Arthur Watson!" he cried, and the sound echoed through the arched halls with a gloomy and terrifying force. The figure was arrested in its flight. "Watson, The low and melancholy tones of the stranger's voice struck to the heart of his listener: determined, however, to put in execution the plans he had formed for his benefit, Egbert ceased not to urge him until he forced him from his dreary retreat, and the two husbands repaired to the dwelling of Elizabeth. Day was just gently breaking when they emerged from the ruins, "the spirit of fragrance was up with the day," and the fresh perfumed air, which the "magic of daylight awakes,” was doubly welcome after their sojourn in the dark and dreary Fort. A thick mist was slowly arising from the earth, and accumulating in soft masses on the distant hills; while every blade of grass and every flower were heavy with globules of dew. The deep rose of the castern sky, gradually paled to silver, when suddenly the sun sprung up, and the herbage sparkled as if a shower of diamonds had been sprinkled over it. Birds were out on every tree "singing and making melody." The hope of seeing him who was the love of her early days had revived Elizabeth, and seated on a couch she awaited his coming. She was wrapped in a loose white dress; her dark hair smoothly parted over her brow, and rolled up classically behind. All color had not left her cheek, nor had the brightness deserted her eyes: nothing bespoke the invalid except her hands; these, thin, translucent, almost hid in the broad ruffles of her sleeve, attested the severity of that attack which had |