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

  Chapter XXVII.

  I hung over the unhappy wretch, whose emaciated form and rueful featuressufficiently bespoke that savage hands had only completed thatdestruction which his miseries had begun. He was mangled by the tomahawkin a shocking manner, and there was little hope that human skill couldsave his life.

  I was sensible of nothing but compassion. I acted without design, when,seating myself on the floor, I raised his head and placed it on myknees. This movement awakened his attention, and, opening his eyes, hefixed them on my countenance. They testified neither insensibility, norhorror, nor distraction. A faint emotion of surprise gave way to anappearance of tranquillity. Having perceived these tokens of a stateless hopeless than I at first imagined, I spoke to him:--"My friend, howdo you feel? Can any thing be done for you?"

  He answered me in a tone more firm and with more coherence of ideasthan previous appearances had taught me to expect. "No," said he; "thykindness, good youth, can avail me nothing. The end of my existence hereis at hand. May my guilt be expiated by the miseries that I havesuffered, and my good deeds only attend me to the presence of my divineJudge!

  "I am waiting, not with trembling or dismay, for this close of mysorrows. I breathed but one prayer, and that prayer has been answered. Iasked for an interview with thee, young man; but, feeling as I now feel,this interview, so much desired, was beyond my hope. Now thou art come,in due season, to hear the last words that I shall need to utter.

  "I wanted to assure thee that thy efforts for my benefit were notuseless. They have saved me from murdering myself, a guilt moreinexpiable than any which it was in my power to commit.

  "I retired to the innermost recess of Norwalk, and gained the summit ofa hill, by subterranean paths. This hill I knew to be on all sidesinaccessible to human footsteps, and the subterranean passages wereclosed up by stones. Here I believed my solitude exempt frominterruption, and my death, in consequence of famine, sure.

  "This persuasion was not taken away by your appearance on the oppositesteep. The chasm which severed us I knew to be impassable. I withdrewfrom your sight.

  "Some time after, awakening from a long sleep, I found victuals besideme. He that brought it was invisible. For a time, I doubted whether somemessenger of heaven had not interposed for my salvation. How other thanby supernatural means my retreat should be explored, I was unable toconceive. The summit was encompassed by dizzy and profound gulfs, andthe subterranean passages were still closed.

  "This opinion, though corrected by subsequent reflection, tended tochange the course of my desperate thoughts. My hunger, thusimportunately urged, would not abstain, and I ate of the food that wasprovided. Henceforth I determined to live, to resume the path ofobscurity and labour which I had relinquished, and wait till my Godshould summon me to retribution. To anticipate his call is only toredouble our guilt.

  "I designed not to return to Inglefield's service, but to choose someother and remoter district. Meanwhile, I had left in his possession atreasure, which my determination to die had rendered of no value, butwhich my change of resolution restored. Enclosed in a box atInglefield's were the memoirs of Euphemia Lorimer, by which, in all myvicissitudes, I had been hitherto accompanied, and from which Iconsented to part only because I had refused to live. My existence wasnow to be prolonged, and this manuscript was once more to constitute thetorment and the solace of my being.

  "I hastened to Inglefield's by night. There was no need to warn him ofmy purpose. I desired that my fate should be an eternal secret to myancient master and his neighbours. The apartment containing my box waswell known, and easily accessible.

  "The box was found, but broken and rifled of its treasure. My transportsof astonishment, and indignation, and grief, yielded to the resumptionof my fatal purpose. I hastened back to the hill, and determined anew toperish.

  "This mood continued to the evening of the ensuing day. Wandering overrocks and pits, I discovered the manuscript lying under a juttingprecipice. The chance that brought it hither was not less propitious andmiraculous than that by which I had been supplied with food. It produceda similar effect upon my feelings, and, while in possession of thismanuscript, I was reconciled to the means of life. I left the mountain,and, traversing the wilderness, stopped in Chetasco. That kind ofemployment which I sought was instantly procured; but my new vocationwas scarcely assumed when a band of savages invaded our security.

  "Rambling in the desert by moonlight, I encountered these foes. Theyrushed upon me, and, after numerous wounds, which for the presentneither killed nor disabled me, they compelled me to keep pace with themin their retreat. Some hours have passed since the troop was overtakenand my liberty redeemed. Hardships, and repeated wounds, inflicted atthe moment when the invaders were surprised and slain, have brought meto my present condition. I rejoice that my course is about toterminate."

  Here the speaker was interrupted by the tumultuous entrance of the partyby whom he had been brought hither. Their astonishment at seeing mesustaining the head of the dying man may be easily conceived. Theirsurprise was more strongly excited by the disappearance of the captivewhom they had left in this apartment, bound hand and foot. It nowappeared that, of the savage troop who had adventured thus far in searchof pillage and blood, all had been destroyed but two, who had been ledhither as prisoners. On their entrance into this house, one of the partyhad been sent to Walcot's to summon Sarsefield to the aid of the woundedman, while others had gone in search of cords to secure the arms andlegs of the captives, who had hitherto been manacled imperfectly.

  The cords were brought and one of them was bound; but the other, beforethe same operation was begun upon him, broke, by a sudden effort, thefeeble ligatures by which he was at present constrained, and, seizing amusket that lay near him, fired on his enemies, and then rushed out ofdoors. All eagerly engaged in the pursuit. The savage was fleet as adeer, and finally eluded his pursuers.

  While their attention was thus engaged abroad, he that remained foundmeans to extricate his wrists and ankles from his bonds, and, betakinghimself to the stairs, escaped, as I before described, through thewindow of the room which I had occupied. They pestered me with theircuriosity and wonder, for I was known to all of them; but, waiving thediscussion of my own concerns, I entreated their assistance to carryClithero to the chamber and the bed which I had just deserted.

  I now, in spite of pain, fatigue, and watchfulness, set out to go toWalton's. Sarsefield was ready to receive me at the door, and thekindness and compassion of the family were active in my behalf. I wasconducted to a chamber and provided with suitable attendance andremedies.

  I was not unmindful of the more deplorable condition of Clithero. Iincessantly meditated on the means for his relief. His case stood inneed of all the vigilance and skill of a physician, and Sarsefield wasthe only one of that profession whose aid could be seasonablyadministered. Sarsefield, therefore, must be persuaded to bestow thisaid.

  There was but one mode of conquering his abhorrence of this man,--toprepossess my friend with the belief of the innocence of Clithero, or tosoothe him into pity by a picture of remorse and suffering. This couldbe done, and in the manner most conformable to truth, by a simplerecital of the incidents that had befallen, and by repeating theconfession which had been extorted from Clithero.

  I requested all but my friend to leave my chamber, and then, solicitinga patient hearing, began the narrative of Waldegrave's death; of thedetection of Clithero beneath the shade of the elm; of the suspicionswhich were thence produced; and of the forest interview to which thesesuspicions gave birth. I then repeated, without variation or addition,the tale which was then told. I likewise mentioned my subsequenttransactions in Norwalk, so far as they illustrated the destiny ofClithero.

  During this recital, I fixed my eyes upon the countenance of Sarsefield,and watched every emotion as it arose or declined. With the progress ofmy tale, his indignation and his fury grew less, and at length gaveplace to horror and compassion.

  His seat became uneasy; his pulse
throbbed with new vehemence. When Icame to the motives which prompted the unhappy man to visit the chamberof his mistress, he started from his seat, and sometimes strode acrossthe floor in a troubled mood, and sometimes stood before me, with hisbreath almost suspended in the eagerness of his attention. When Imentioned the lifted dagger, the shriek from behind, and the apparitionthat interposed, he shuddered and drew back, as if a dagger had beenaimed at his breast.

  When the tale was done, some time elapsed in mutual and profoundsilence. My friend's thoughts were involved in a mournful andindefinable reverie. From this he at length recovered and spoke:--

  "It is true. A tale like this could never be the fruit of invention, orbe invented to deceive. He has done himself injustice. His character wasspotless and fair. All his moral properties seemed to have resolvedthemselves into gratitude, fidelity, and honour.

  "We parted at the door, late in the evening, as he mentioned, and heguessed truly that subsequent reflection had induced me to return and todisclose the truth to Mrs. Lorimer. Clarice, relieved by the suddendeath of her friend, and unexpectedly by all, arrived at the same hour.

  "These tidings astonished, afflicted, and delighted the lady. Herbrother's death had been long believed by all but herself. To find herdoubts verified, and his existence ascertained, was the dearestconsolation that he ever could bestow. She was afflicted at the proofsthat had been noted of the continuance of his depravity, but she dreadedno danger to herself from his malignity or vengeance.

  "The ignorance and prepossessions of this woman were remarkable. On thissubject only she was perverse, headstrong, obstinate. Her anxiety tobenefit this archruffian occupied her whole thoughts, and allowed her notime to reflect upon the reasonings or remonstrances of others. Shecould not be prevailed on to deny herself to his visits, and I partedfrom her in the utmost perplexity.

  "A messenger came to me at midnight, entreating my immediate presence.Some disaster had happened, but of what kind the messenger was unable totell. My fears easily conjured up the image of Wiatte. Terror scarcelyallowed me to breathe. When I entered the house of Mrs. Lorimer, I wasconducted to her chamber. She lay upon the bed in a state ofstupefaction, that arose from some mental cause. Clarice sat by her,wringing her hands, and pouring forth her tears without intermission.Neither could explain to me the nature of the scene. I made inquiries ofthe servants and attendants. They merely said that the family as usualhad retired to rest, but their lady's bell rung with great violence, andcalled them in haste to her chamber, where they found her in a swoonupon the floor, and the young lady in the utmost affright andperturbation.

  "Suitable means being used, Mrs. Lorimer had, at length, recovered, butwas still nearly insensible. I went to Clithero's apartments; but he wasnot to be found, and the domestics informed me that, since he had gonewith me, he had not returned. The doors between this chamber and thecourt were open; hence, that some dreadful interview had taken place,perhaps with Wiatte, was an unavoidable conjecture. He had withdrawn,however, without committing any personal injury.

  "I need not mention my reflections upon this scene. All was tormentingdoubt and suspense, till the morning arrived, and tidings were receivedthat Wiatte had been killed in the streets. This event was antecedent tothat which had occasioned Mrs. Lorimer's distress and alarm. I nowremembered that fatal prepossession by which the lady was governed, andher frantic belief that her death and that of her brother were to fallout at the same time. Could some witness of his death have brought hertidings of it? Had he penetrated, unexpected and unlicensed, to herchamber? and were these the effects produced by the intelligence?

  "Presently I knew that not only Wiatte was dead, but that Clithero hadkilled him. Clithero had not been known to return, and was nowhere to befound. He, then, was the bearer of these tidings, for none but he couldhave found access or egress without disturbing the servants.

  "These doubts were at length at an end. In a broken and confused manner,and after the lapse of some days, the monstrous and portentous truth wasdisclosed. After our interview, the lady and her daughter had retired tothe same chamber; the former had withdrawn to her closet, and the latterto bed. Some one's entrance alarmed the lady, and, coming forth after amoment's pause, the spectacle which Clithero has too faithfullydescribed presented itself.

  "What could I think? A life of uniform hypocrisy, or a sudden loss ofreason, were the only suppositions to be formed. Clithero was the parentof fury and abhorrence in my heart. In either case I started at thename. I shuddered at the image of the apostate or the maniac.

  "What? Kill the brother whose existence was interwoven with that of hisbenefactress and his friend? Then hasten to her chamber, and attempt herlife? Lift a dagger to destroy her who had been the author of his beingand his happiness?

  "He that could meditate a deed like this was no longer man. An agentfrom hell had mastered his faculties. He was become the engine ofinfernal malice, against whom it was the duty of all mankind to rise upin arms and never to desist till, by shattering it to atoms, its powerto injure was taken away.

  "All inquiries to discover the place of his retreat were vain. Nowonder, methought, that he wrapped himself in the folds of impenetrablesecrecy. Curbed, checked, baffled in the midst of his career, no wonderthat he shrunk into obscurity, that he fled from justice and revenge,that he dared not meet the rebukes of that eye which, dissolving intenderness or flashing with disdain, had ever been irresistible.

  "But how shall I describe the lady's condition? Clithero she hadcherished from his infancy. He was the stay, the consolation, the prideof her life. His projected alliance with her daughter made him stillmore dear. Her eloquence was never tired of expatiating on his purityand rectitude. No wonder that she delighted in this theme, for he washer own work. His virtues were the creatures of her bounty.

  "How hard to be endured was this sad reverse! She can be tranquil, butnever more will she be happy. To promote her forgetfulness of him, Ipersuaded her to leave her country, which contained a thousand memorialsof past calamity, and which was lapsing fast into civil broils. Claricehas accompanied us, and time may effect the happiness of others by hermeans, though she can never remove the melancholy of her mother.

  "I have listened to your tale, not without compassion. What would youhave me to do? To prolong his life would be merely to protract hismisery.

  "He can never be regarded with complacency by my wife. He can never bethought of without shuddering by Clarice. Common ills are not without acure less than death, but here all remedies are vain. Consciousnessitself is the malady, the pest, of which he only is cured who ceases tothink."

  I could not but assent to this mournful conclusion: yet, though deathwas better to Clithero than life, could not some of his mistakes berectified? Euphemia Lorimer, contrary to his belief, was still alive. Hedreamed that she was dead, and a thousand evils were imagined to flowfrom that death. This death, and its progeny of ills, haunted his fancy,and added keenness to his remorse. Was it not our duty to rectify thiserror?

  Sarsefield reluctantly assented to the truth of my arguments on thishead. He consented to return, and afford the dying man the consolationof knowing that the being whom he adored as a benefactor and parent hadnot been deprived of existence, though bereft of peace by his act.

  During Sarsefield's absence my mind was busy in revolving the incidentsthat had just occurred. I ruminated on the last words of Clithero. Therewas somewhat in his narrative that was obscure and contradictory. He hadleft the manuscript, which he so much and so justly prized, in hiscabinet. He entered the chamber in my absence, and found the cabinetunfastened and the manuscript gone. It was I by whom the cabinet wasopened; but the manuscript supposed to be contained in it was buried inthe earth beneath the elm. How should Clithero be unacquainted with itssituation, since none but Clithero could have dug for it this grave?

  This mystery vanished when I reflected on the history of my ownmanuscript. Clithero had buried his treasure with his own hands, as minehad been secreted by myself; b
ut both acts had been performed duringsleep. The deed was neither prompted by the will nor noticed by thesenses of him by whom it was done. Disastrous and humiliating is thestate of man! By his own hands is constructed the mass of misery anderror in which his steps are forever involved.

  Thus it was with thy friend. Hurried on by phantoms too indistinct to benow recalled, I wandered from my chamber to the desert. I plunged intosome unvisited cavern, and easily proceeded till I reached the edge of apit. There my step was deceived, and I tumbled headlong from theprecipice. The fall bereaved me of sense, and I continued breathless andmotionless during the remainder of the night and the ensuing day.

  How little cognizance have men over the actions and motives of eachother! How total is our blindness with regard to our own performances!Who would have sought me in the bowels of this mountain? Ages might havepassed away, before my bones would be discovered in this tomb by sometraveller whom curiosity had prompted to explore it.

  I was roused from these reflections by Sarsefield's return. Inquiringinto Clithero's condition, he answered that the unhappy man wasinsensible, but that, notwithstanding numerous and dreadful gashes indifferent parts of his body, it was possible that, by submitting to thenecessary treatment, he might recover.

  Encouraged by this information, I endeavoured to awaken the zeal andcompassion of my friend in Clithero's behalf. He recoiled withinvoluntary shuddering from any task which would confine him to thepresence of this man. Time and reflection, he said, might introducedifferent sentiments and feelings, but at present he could not butregard this person as a maniac, whose disease was irremediable, andwhose existence could not be protracted but to his own misery and themisery of others.

  Finding him irreconcilably averse to any scheme connected with thewelfare of Clithero, I began to think that his assistance as a surgeonwas by no means necessary. He had declared that the sufferer needednothing more than common treatment; and to this the skill of a score ofaged women in this district, furnished with simples culled from theforest, and pointed out, of old time, by Indian _leeches_, was noless adequate than that of Sarsefield. These women were ready andofficious in their charity, and none of them were prepossessed againstthe sufferer by a knowledge of his genuine story.

  Sarsefield, meanwhile, was impatient for my removal to Inglefield'shabitation, and that venerable friend was no less impatient to receiveme. My hurts were superficial, and my strength sufficiently repaired bya night's repose. Next day I went thither, leaving Clithero to the careof his immediate neighbours.

  Sarsefield's engagements compelled him to prosecute his journey intoVirginia, from which he had somewhat deviated in order to visitSolesbury. He proposed to return in less than a month, and then to takeme in his company to New York. He has treated me with paternaltenderness, and insists upon the privilege of consulting for my interestas if he were my real father. Meanwhile these views have been disclosedto Inglefield, and it is with him that I am to remain, with my sisters,until his return.

  My reflections have been various and tumultuous. They have been busy inrelation to you, to Weymouth, and especially to Clithero. The latter,polluted with gore and weakened by abstinence, fatigue, and the loss ofblood, appeared in my eyes to be in a much more dangerous condition thanthe event proved him to be. I was punctually informed of the progress ofhis cure, and proposed in a few days to visit him. The duty ofexplaining the truth, respecting the present condition of Mrs. Lorimer,had devolved upon me. By imparting this intelligence, I hoped to workthe most auspicious revolutions in his feelings, and prepared,therefore, with alacrity, for an interview.

  In this hope I was destined to be disappointed. On the morning on whichI intended to visit him, a messenger arrived from the house in which hewas entertained, and informed us that the family, on entering the sickman's apartment, had found it deserted. It appeared that Clithero had,during the night, risen from his bed and gone secretly forth. No tracesof his flight have since been discovered.

  But, oh, my friend, the death of Waldegrave, thy brother, is at lengthdivested of uncertainty and mystery. Hitherto, I had been able to formno conjecture respecting it; but the solution was found shortly afterthis time.

  Queen Mab, three days after my adventure, was seized in her hut onsuspicion of having aided and counselled her countrymen in their latedepredations. She was not to be awed or intimidated by the treatment shereceived, but readily confessed and gloried in the mischief she haddone, and accounted for it by enumerating the injuries which she hadreceived from her neighbours.

  These injuries consisted in contemptuous or neglectful treatment, and inthe rejection of groundless and absurd claims. The people of Chetascowere less obsequious to her humours than those of Solesbury, her ancientneighbourhood, and her imagination brooded for a long time over nothingbut schemes of revenge. She became sullen, irascible, and spent more ofher time in solitude than ever.

  A troop of her countrymen at length visited her hut. Their intentionsbeing hostile, they concealed from the inhabitants their presence inthis quarter of the country. Some motives induced them to withdraw andpostpone, for the present, the violence which they meditated. One ofthem, however, more sanguinary and audacious than the rest, would notdepart without some gratification of his vengeance. He left hisassociates and penetrated by night into Solesbury, resolving to attackthe first human being whom he should meet. It was the fate of thyunhappy brother to encounter this ruffian, whose sagacity made himforbear to tear away the usual trophy from the dead, lest he shouldafford grounds for suspicion as to the authors of the evil.

  Satisfied with this exploit, he rejoined his companions, and, after aninterval of three weeks, returned with a more numerous party, to executea more extensive project of destruction. They were counselled andguided, in all their movements, by Queen Mab, who now explained theseparticulars and boldly defied her oppressors. Her usual obstinacy andinfatuation induced her to remain in her ancient dwelling and prepare tomeet the consequences.

  This disclosure awakened anew all the regrets and anguish which flowedfrom that disaster. It has been productive, however, of some benefit.Suspicions and doubts, by which my soul was harassed, and which wereinjurious to the innocent, are now at an end. It is likewise someimperfect consolation to reflect that the assassin has himself beenkilled, and probably by my own hand. The shedder of blood no longerlives to pursue his vocation, and justice is satisfied.

  Thus have I fulfilled my promise to compose a minute relation of mysufferings. I remembered my duty to thee, and, as soon as I was able tohold a pen, employed it to inform thee of my welfare. I could not atthat time enter into particulars, but reserved a more copious narrativetill a period of more health and leisure.

  On looking back, I am surprised at the length to which my story has run.I thought that a few days would suffice to complete it; but one page hasinsensibly been added to another, till I have consumed weeks and filledvolumes. Here I will draw to a close; I will send you what I havewritten, and discuss with you in conversation my other immediateconcerns, and my schemes for the future. As soon as I have seenSarsefield, I will visit you. FAREWELL. E. H.

  SOLESBURY, November 10.

  Letter I.

  _To Mr. Sarsefield._