Her husband usually remained here, as it
was dangerous for him to travel to and fro, but she was sent as an
escort for each recruit, and the baby was used to avert suspicion,
as no sentinel would think of scrutinizing a man closely who went
across accompanied with his wife and child. The excess of travel had
weakened her frame, and now this shock came to still further shake
her system; the result was a premature confinement, and a long and
weary illness.
Ere she recovered she got a letter from her husband, bearing the New
York postmark. It seems he had been liberated on bail, (having
influential friends) and had at once made the best of his way to the
United States. His wife soon joined him, taking with her the
redoubtable rag-baby, which had afforded us so much food for gossip
and conjecture.
CHAPTER IV.
A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing.
Alfred Grandison was born in the ancient city of Bristol in the year
1831. His father had been bandmaster in a British Cavalry regiment,
but had retired some years previous to the birth of little Alfred,
and made a comfortable livelihood by teaching the children of the
wealthy residents of Clifton, the fashionable suburb of Bristol.
Young Alfred soon gave evidence of great musical talent, and used to
amuse himself blowing trumpet calls on his father's French horn,
although the instrument was almost as big as himself; he also
achieved considerable mastery over the piano, the flute and the
violin, but, though bright and intelligent enough, and always
maintaining a creditable position at school, it was evident that
nature had intended him for a musician, and that he could never
succeed in anything prosaic or mechanical.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40