On my return, I found the following letter from my
father:—
“My dear Victor,
“You have probably waited impatiently for a
letter to fix the date of your return to us; and I
was at first tempted to write only a few lines, merely
mentioning the day on which I should expect you.
But that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not
do it. What would be your surprise, my son,
when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to behold,
on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And
how, Victor, can I relate our misfortune? Absence
cannot have rendered you callous to our joys and griefs;
and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent son?
I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know
it is impossible; even now your eye skims over the
page to seek the words which are to convey to you
the horrible tidings.
“William is dead!—that sweet child,
whose smiles delighted and warmed my heart, who was
so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered!
“I will not attempt to console you; but will
simply relate the circumstances of the transaction.
“Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your
two brothers, went to walk in Plainpalais. The
evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged our
walk farther than usual. It was already dusk
before we thought of returning; and then we discovered
that William and Ernest, who had gone on before, were
not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat
until they should return. Presently Ernest came,
and enquired if we had seen his brother; he said,
that he had been playing with him, that William had
run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought
for him, and afterwards waited for a long time, but
that he did not return.
“This account rather alarmed us, and we continued
to search for him until night fell, when Elizabeth
conjectured that he might have returned to the house.
He was not there. We returned again, with torches;
for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet
boy had lost himself, and was exposed to all the damps
and dews of night; Elizabeth also suffered extreme
anguish. About five in the morning I discovered
my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming
and active in health, stretched on the grass livid
and motionless; the print of the murder’s finger
was on his neck.
“He was conveyed home, and the anguish that
was visible in my countenance betrayed the secret
to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to see the
corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but
she persisted, and entering the room where it lay,
hastily examined the neck of the victim, and clasping
her hands exclaimed, `O God! I have murdered
my darling child!’
“She fainted, and was restored with extreme
difficulty. When she again lived, it was only
to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same
evening William had teased her to let him wear a very
valuable miniature that she possessed of your mother.
This picture is gone, and was doubtless the temptation
which urged the murderer to the deed. We have
no trace of him at present, although our exertions
to discover him are unremitted; but they will not
restore my beloved William!
