Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker Read online

  Chapter XV.

  "I came hither with a heart desponding of success. Adversity hadweakened my faith in the promises of the future, and I was prepared toreceive just such tidings as you have communicated. Unacquainted withthe secret motives of Waldegrave and his sister, it is impossible for meto weigh the probabilities of their rectitude. I have only my ownassertion to produce in support of my claim. All other evidence, allvouchers and papers, which might attest my veracity or sanction my claimin a court of law, are buried in the ocean. The bill was transmittedjust before my departure from Madeira, and the letters by which it wasaccompanied informed Waldegrave of my design to follow it immediately.Hence he did not, it is probable, acknowledge the receipt of my letters.The vessels in which they were sent arrived in due season. I was assuredthat all letters were duly deposited in the post-office, where, atpresent, mine are not to be found.

  "You assure me that nothing has been found among his papers, hinting atany pecuniary transaction between him and me. Some correspondence passedbetween us previous to that event. Have no letters, with my signature,been found? Are you qualified, by your knowledge of his papers, toanswer me explicitly? Is it not possible for some letters to have beenmislaid?"

  "I am qualified," said I, "to answer your inquiries beyond any otherperson in the world. Waldegrave maintained only general intercourse withthe rest of mankind. With me his correspondence was copious, and hisconfidence, as I imagined, without bounds. His books and papers werecontained in a single chest at his lodgings, the keys of which he hadabout him when he died. These keys I carried to his sister, and wasauthorized by her to open and examine the contents of this chest. Thiswas done with the utmost care. These papers are now in my possession.Among them no paper, of the tenor you mention, was found, and no letterwith your signature. Neither Mary Waldegrave nor I are capable ofdisguising the truth or committing an injustice. The moment she receivesconviction of your right, she will restore this money to you. The momentI imbibe this conviction, I will exert all my influence (and it is notsmall) to induce her to restore it. Permit me, however, to question youin your turn. Who was the merchant on whom your bill was drawn, what wasthe date of it, and when did the bill and its counterparts arrive?"

  "I do not exactly remember the date of the bills. They were made out,however, six days before I myself embarked, which happened on the 10thof August, 1784. They were sent by three vessels, one of which was boundto Charleston and the others to New York. The last arrived within twodays of each other, and about the middle of November in the same year.The name of the payer was Monteith."

  After a pause of recollection, I answered, "I will not hesitate toapprize you of every thing which may throw light upon this transaction,and whether favourable or otherwise to your claim. I have told you,among my friend's papers your name is not to be found. I must likewiserepeat that the possession of this money by Waldegrave was whollyunknown to us till his death. We are likewise unacquainted with anymeans by which he could get possession of so large a sum in his ownright. He spent no more than his scanty stipend as a teacher, thoughthis stipend was insufficient to supply his wants. This bank-receipt isdated in December, 1784, a fortnight, perhaps, after the date that youhave mentioned. You will perceive how much this coincidence, which couldscarcely have taken place by chance, is favourable to your claim.

  "Mary Waldegrave resides, at present, at Abingdon. She will rejoice, asI do, to see one who, as her brother's friend, is entitled to heraffection. Doubt not but that she will listen with impartiality andcandour to all that you can urge in defence of your title to this money.Her decision will not be precipitate, but it will be generous and just,and founded on such reasons that, even if it be adverse to your wishes,you will be compelled to approve it?"

  "I can entertain no doubt," he answered, "as to the equity of my claim.The coincidences you mention are sufficient to convince me that this sumwas received upon my bill; but this conviction must necessarily beconfined to myself. No one but I can be conscious to the truth of my ownstory. The evidence on which I build my faith, in this case, is that ofmy own memory and senses; but this evidence cannot make itselfconspicuous to you. You have nothing but my bare assertion, in additionto some probabilities flowing from the conduct of Waldegrave. What factsmay exist to corroborate my claim, which you have forgotten, or whichyou may think proper to conceal, I cannot judge. I know not what ispassing in the secret of your hearts; I am unacquainted with thecharacter of this lady and with yours. I have nothing on which to buildsurmises and suspicions of your integrity, and nothing to generateunusual confidence. The frailty of your virtue and the strength of yourtemptations I know not. However she decides in this case, and whateveropinion I shall form as to the reasonableness of her decision, it willnot become me either to upbraid her, or to nourish discontentment andrepinings.

  "I know that my claim has no legal support; that, if this money beresigned to me, it will be the impulse of spontaneous justice, and notthe coercion of law, to which I am indebted for it. Since, therefore,the justice of my claim is to be measured not by law, but by simpleequity, I will candidly acknowledge that, as yet, it is uncertainwhether I ought to receive, even should Miss Waldegrave be willing togive it. I know my own necessities and schemes, and in what degree thismoney would be subservient to these; but I know not the views and wantsof others, and cannot estimate the usefulness of this money to them.However I decide upon your conduct in withholding or retaining it, Ishall make suitable allowance for my imperfect knowledge of your motivesand wants, as well as for your unavoidable ignorance of mine.

  "I have related my sufferings from shipwreck and poverty, not to biasyour judgment or engage your pity, but merely because the impulse torelate them chanced to awake; because my heart is softened by theremembrance of Waldegrave, who has been my only friend, and by the sightof one whom he loved.

  "I told you that my father lived in Chetasco. He is now aged, and I amhis only child. I should have rejoiced in being able to relieve his grayhairs from labour to which his failing strength cannot be equal. Thiswas one of my inducements in coming to America. Another was, to preparethe way for a woman whom I married in Europe and who is now awaitingintelligence from me in London. Her poverty is not less than my own, andby marrying against the wishes of her kindred she has bereaved herselfof all support but that of her husband. Whether I shall be able torescue her from indigence, whether I shall alleviate the poverty of myfather, or increase it by burdening his scanty friends by my ownmaintenance as well as his, the future alone can determine.

  "I confess that my stock of patience and hope has never been large, andthat my misfortunes have nearly exhausted it. The flower of my years hasbeen consumed in struggling with adversity, and my constitution hasreceived a shock, from sickness and mistreatment in Portugal, which Icannot expect long to survive. But I make you sad," he continued. "Ihave said all that I meant to say in this interview. I am impatient tosee my father, and night has already come. I have some miles yet to rideto his cottage, and over a rough road. I will shortly visit you again,and talk to you at greater leisure on these and other topics. At presentI leave you."

  I was unwilling to part so abruptly with this guest, and entreated himto prolong his visit; but he would not be prevailed upon. Repeating hispromise of shortly seeing me again, he mounted his horse anddisappeared. I looked after him with affecting and complex emotions. Ireviewed the incidents of this unexpected and extraordinary interview,as if it had existed in a dream. An hour had passed, and this strangerhad alighted among us as from the clouds, to draw the veil from thoseobscurities which had bewildered us so long, to make visible a new trainof disastrous consequences flowing from the untimely death of thybrother, and to blast that scheme of happiness on which thou and I hadso fondly meditated.

  But what wilt thou think of this new-born claim? The story, hadst thouobserved the features and guise of the relater, would have won thyimplicit credit. His countenance exhibited deep traces of theafflictions he had endured, and the fortitude which he
had exercised. Hewas sallow and emaciated, but his countenance was full of seriousnessand dignity. A sort of ruggedness of brow, the token of great mentalexertion and varied experience, argued a premature old age.

  What a mournful tale! Is such the lot of those who wander from theirrustic homes in search of fortune? Our countrymen are prone toenterprise, and are scattered over every sea and every land in pursuitof that wealth which will not screen them from disease and infirmity,which is missed much oftener than found, and which, when gained, by nomeans compensates them for the hardships and vicissitudes endured in thepursuit.

  But what if the truth of these pretensions be admitted? The money mustbe restored to its right owner. I know that, whatever inconveniences mayfollow the deed, thou wilt not hesitate to act justly. Affluence anddignity, however valuable, may be purchased too dear. Honesty will nottake away its keenness from the winter blast, its ignominy andunwholesomeness from servile labour, or strip of its charms the life ofelegance and leisure; but these, unaccompanied with self-reproach, areless deplorable than wealth and honour the possession of which is marredby our own disapprobation.

  I know the bitterness of this sacrifice. I know the impatience withwhich your poverty has formerly been borne; how much your earlyeducation is at war with that degradation and obscurity to which youryouth has been condemned; how earnestly your wishes panted after a statewhich might exempt you from dependence upon daily labour and on thecaprices of others, and might secure to you leisure to cultivate andindulge your love of knowledge and your social and beneficentaffections.

  Your motive for desiring a change of fortune has been greatly enforcedsince we have become known to each other. Thou hast honoured me with thyaffection; but that union, on which we rely for happiness, could nottake place while both of us were poor. My habits, indeed, have madelabour and rustic obscurity less painful than they would prove to myfriend, but my present condition is wholly inconsistent with marriage.As long as my exertions are insufficient to maintain us both, it wouldbe unjustifiable to burden you with new cares and duties. Of this youare more thoroughly convinced than I am. The love of independence andease, and impatience of drudgery, are woven into your constitution.Perhaps they are carried to an erroneous extreme, and derogate from thatuncommon excellence by which your character is, in other respects,distinguished; but they cannot be removed.

  This obstacle was unexpectedly removed by the death of your brother.However justly to be deplored was this catastrophe, yet, like everyother event, some of its consequences were good. By giving youpossession of the means of independence and leisure, by enabling us tocomplete a contract which poverty alone had thus long delayed, thisevent has been, at the same time, the most disastrous and propitiouswhich could have happened.

  Why thy brother should have concealed from us the possession of thismoney,--why, with such copious means of indulgence and leisure, heshould still pursue his irksome trade, and live in so penurious amanner,--has been a topic of endless and unsatisfactory conjecturebetween us. It was not difficult to suppose that this money was held intrust for another; but in that case it was unavoidable that somedocument or memorandum, or at least some claimant, would appear. Muchtime has since elapsed, and you have thought yourself at lengthjustified in appropriating this money to your own use.

  Our flattering prospects are now shut in. You must return to youroriginal poverty, and once more depend for precarious subsistence onyour needle. You cannot restore the whole, for unavoidable expenses andthe change of your mode of living have consumed some part of it. For somuch you must consider yourself as Weymouth's debtor.

  Repine not, my friend, at this unlooked-for reverse. Think upon themerits and misfortunes of your brother's friend; think upon his agedfather, whom we shall enable him to rescue from poverty; think upon hisdesolate wife, whose merits are, probably, at least equal to your own,and whose helplessness is likely to be greater. I am not insensible tothe evils which have returned upon us with augmented force, afterhaving, for a moment, taken their flight. I know the precariousness ofmy condition and that of my sisters; that our subsistence hangs upon thelife of an old man. My uncle's death will transfer this property to hisson, who is a stranger and an enemy to us, and the first act of whoseauthority will unquestionably be to turn us forth from these doors.Marriage with thee was anticipated with joyous emotions, not merely onmy own account or on thine, but likewise for the sake of those belovedgirls to whom that event would enable me to furnish an asylum.

  But wedlock is now more distant than ever. Mv heart bleeds to think ofthe sufferings which my beloved Mary is again fated to endure; butregrets are only aggravations of calamity. They are pernicious, and itis our duty to shake them off.

  I can entertain no doubts as to the equity of Weymouth's claim. So manycoincidences could not have happened by chance. The non-appearance ofany letters or papers connected with it is indeed a mysteriouscircumstance; but why should Waldegrave be studious of preserving these?They were useless paper, and might, without impropriety, be cast away ormade to serve any temporary purpose. Perhaps, indeed, they still lurk insome unsuspected corner. To wish that time may explain this mystery in adifferent manner, and so as to permit our retention of this money, is,perhaps, the dictate of selfishness. The transfer to Weymouth will notbe productive of less benefit to him and to his family, than we shouldderive from the use of it.

  These considerations, however, will be weighed when we meet. Meanwhile Iwill return to my narrative.