Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793 Read online

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  At parting with you, my purpose was to reach the abode of the Hadwins asspeedily as possible. I travelled therefore with diligence. Setting outso early, I expected, though on foot, to reach the end of my journeybefore noon. The activity of muscles is no obstacle to thought. So farfrom being inconsistent with intense musing, it is, in my own case,propitious to that state of mind.

  Probably no one had stronger motives for ardent meditation than I. Mysecond journey to the city was prompted by reasons, and attended byincidents, that seemed to have a present existence. To think upon themwas to view, more deliberately and thoroughly, objects and persons thatstill hovered in my sight. Instead of their attributes being alreadyseen, and their consequences at an end, it seemed as if a series ofnumerous years and unintermitted contemplation were requisite tocomprehend them fully, and bring into existence their most momentouseffects.

  If men be chiefly distinguished from each other by the modes in whichattention is employed, either on external and sensible objects, ormerely on abstract ideas and the creatures of reflection, I may justlyclaim to be enrolled in the second class. My existence is a series ofthoughts rather than of motions. Ratiocination and deduction leave mysenses unemployed. The fulness of my fancy renders my eye vacant andinactive. Sensations do not precede and suggest, but follow and aresecondary to, the acts of my mind.

  There was one motive, however, which made me less inattentive to thescene that was continually shifting before and without me than I amwont to be. The loveliest form which I had hitherto seen was that ofClemenza Lodi. I recalled her condition as I had witnessed it, asWelbeck had described, and as you had painted it. The past was withoutremedy; but the future was, in some degree, within our power to createand to fashion. Her state was probably dangerous. She might already beforlorn, beset with temptation or with anguish; or danger might only beapproaching her, and the worst evils be impending ones.

  I was ignorant of her state. Could I not remove this ignorance? Wouldnot some benefit redound to her from beneficent and seasonableinterposition?

  You had mentioned that her abode had lately been with Mrs. Villars, andthat this lady still resided in the country. The residence had beensufficiently described, and I perceived that I was now approaching it.In a short time I spied its painted roof and five chimneys through anavenue of _catalpas_.

  When opposite the gate which led into this avenue, I paused. It seemedas if this moment were to decide upon the liberty and innocence of thisbeing. In a moment I might place myself before her, ascertain her truecondition, and point out to her the path of honour and safety. Thisopportunity might be the last. Longer delay might render interpositionfruitless.

  But how was I to interpose? I was a stranger to her language, and shewas unacquainted with mine. To obtain access to her, it was necessaryonly to demand it. But how should I explain my views and state my wisheswhen an interview was gained? And what expedient was it in my power topropose?

  "Now," said I, "I perceive the value of that wealth which I have beenaccustomed to despise. The power of eating and drinking, the nature andlimits of existence and physical enjoyment, are not changed or enlargedby the increase of wealth. Our corporeal and intellectual wants aresupplied at little expense; but our own wants are the wants of others,and that which remains, after our own necessities are obviated, it isalways easy and just to employ in relieving the necessities of others.

  "There are no superfluities in my store. It is not in my power to supplythis unfortunate girl with decent raiment and honest bread. I have nohouse to which to conduct her. I have no means of securing her fromfamine and cold.

  "Yet, though indigent and feeble, I am not destitute of friends and ofhome. Cannot she be admitted to the same asylum to which I am nowgoing?" This thought was sudden and new. The more it was revolved, themore plausible it seemed. This was not merely the sole expedient, butthe best that could have been suggested.

  The Hadwins were friendly, hospitable, unsuspicious. Their board, thoughsimple and uncouth, was wholesome and plenteous. Their residence wassequestered and obscure, and not obnoxious to impertinent inquiries andmalignant animadversion. Their frank and ingenuous temper would makethem easy of persuasion, and their sympathies were prompt andoverflowing.

  "I am nearly certain," continued I, "that they will instantly affordprotection to this desolate girl. Why shall I not anticipate theirconsent, and present myself to their embraces and their welcomes in hercompany?"

  Slight reflection showed me that this precipitation was improper.Whether Wallace had ever arrived at Malverton, whether Mr. Hadwin hadescaped infection, whether his house were the abode of security andquiet, or a scene of desolation, were questions yet to be determined.The obvious and best proceeding was to hasten forward, to afford theHadwins, if in distress, the feeble consolations of my friendship; or,if their state were happy, to procure their concurrence to my schemerespecting Clemenza.

  Actuated by these considerations, I resumed my journey. Looking forward,I perceived a chaise and horse standing by the left-hand fence, at thedistance of some hundred yards. This object was not uncommon or strange,and, therefore, it was scarcely noticed. When I came near, however,methought I recognised in this carriage the same in which myimportunities had procured a seat for the languishing Wallace, in themanner which I have formerly related.

  It was a crazy vehicle and old-fashioned. When once seen it couldscarcely be mistaken or forgotten. The horse was held by his bridle to apost, but the seat was empty. My solicitude with regard to Wallace'sdestiny, of which he to whom the carriage belonged might possibly affordme some knowledge, made me stop and reflect on what measures it wasproper to pursue.

  The rider could not be at a great distance from this spot. His absencewould probably be short. By lingering a few minutes an interview mightbe gained, and the uncertainty and suspense of some hours be therebyprecluded. I therefore waited, and the same person whom I had formerlyencountered made his appearance, in a short time, from under a copsethat skirted the road.

  He recognised me with more difficulty than attended my recognition ofhim. The circumstances, however, of our first meeting were easilyrecalled to his remembrance. I eagerly inquired when and where he hadparted with the youth who had been, on that occasion, intrusted to hiscare.

  He answered that, on leaving the city and inhaling the purer air of thefields and woods, Wallace had been, in a wonderful degree, invigoratedand refreshed. An instantaneous and total change appeared to have beenwrought in him. He no longer languished with fatigue or fear, but becamefull of gayety and talk.

  The suddenness of this transition; the levity with which he related andcommented on his recent dangers and evils, excited the astonishment ofhis companion, to whom he not only communicated the history of hisdisease, but imparted many anecdotes of a humorous kind. Some of thesemy companion repeated. I heard them with regret and dissatisfaction.They betokened a mind vitiated by intercourse with the thoughtless anddepraved of both sexes, and particularly with infamous and profligatewomen.

  My companion proceeded to mention that Wallace's exhilaration lasted butfor a short time, and disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. Hewas seized with deadly sickness, and insisted upon leaving the carriage,whose movements shocked his stomach and head to an insupportable degree.His companion was not void of apprehensions on his own account, but wasunwilling to desert him, and endeavoured to encourage him. His effortswere vain. Though the nearest house was at the distance of some hundredyards, and though it was probable that the inhabitants of this housewould refuse to accommodate one in his condition, yet Wallace could notbe prevailed on to proceed; and, in spite of persuasion andremonstrance, left the carriage and threw himself on the grassy bankbeside the road.

  This person was not unmindful of the hazard which he incurred by contactwith a sick man. He conceived himself to have performed all that wasconsistent with duty to himself and to his family; and Wallace,persisting in affirming that, by attempting to ride farther, he should
merely hasten his death, was at length left to his own guidance.

  These were unexpected and mournful tidings. I had fondly imagined thathis safety was put beyond the reach of untoward accidents. Now, however,there was reason to suppose him to have perished by a lingering andpainful disease, rendered fatal by the selfishness of mankind, by thewant of seasonable remedies, and exposure to inclement airs. Someuncertainty, however, rested on his fate. It was my duty to remove it,and to carry to the Hadwins no mangled and defective tale. Where, Iasked, had Wallace and his companion parted?

  It was about three miles farther onward. The spot, and the house withinview from the spot, were accurately described. In this house it waspossible that Wallace had sought an asylum, and some intelligencerespecting him might be gained from its inhabitants. My informant wasjourneying to the city, so that we were obliged to separate.

  In consequence of this man's description of Wallace's deportment, andthe proofs of a dissolute and thoughtless temper which he had given, Ibegan to regard his death as an event less deplorable. Such a one wasunworthy of a being so devoutly pure, so ardent in fidelity andtenderness, as Susan Hadwin. If he loved, it was probable that, indefiance of his vows, he would seek a different companion. If he adheredto his first engagements, his motives would be sordid, and thedisclosure of his latent defects might produce more exquisite misery tohis wife than his premature death or treacherous desertion.

  The preservation of this man was my sole motive for entering theinfected city, and subjecting my own life to the hazards from which myescape may almost be esteemed miraculous. Was not the enddisproportioned to the means? Was there arrogance in believing my life aprice too great to be given for his?

  I was not, indeed, sorry for the past. My purpose was just, and themeans which I selected were the best my limited knowledge supplied. Myhappiness should be drawn from reflecting on the equity of myintentions. That these intentions were frustrated by the ignorance ofothers, or my own, was the consequence of human frailty. Honestpurposes, though they may not bestow happiness on others, will, atleast, secure it to him who fosters them.

  By these reflections my regrets were dissipated, and I prepared torejoice alike, whether Wallace should be found to have escaped or tohave perished. The house to which I had been directed was speedilybrought into view. I inquired for the master or mistress of the mansion,and was conducted to a lady of a plain and housewifely appearance.

  My curiosity was fully gratified. Wallace, whom my description easilyidentified, had made his appearance at her door on the evening of theday on which he left the city. The dread of _the fever_ was descanted onwith copious and rude eloquence. I supposed her eloquence on this themeto be designed to apologize to me for her refusing entrance to the sickman. The peroration, however, was different. Wallace was admitted, andsuitable attention paid to his wants.

  Happily, the guest had nothing to struggle with but extreme weakness.Repose, nourishing diet, and salubrious airs restored him in a shorttime to health. He lingered under this roof for three weeks, and then,without any professions of gratitude, or offers of pecuniaryremuneration, or information of the course which he determined to take,he left them.

  These facts, added to that which I had previously known, threw noadvantageous light upon the character of Wallace. It was obvious toconclude that he had gone to Malverton, and thither there was nothing tohinder me from following him.

  Perhaps one of my grossest defects is a precipitate temper. I choose mypath suddenly, and pursue it with impetuous expedition. In the presentinstance, my resolution was conceived with unhesitating zeal, and Iwalked the faster that I might the sooner execute it. Miss Hadwindeserved to be happy. Love was in her heart the all-absorbing sentiment.A disappointment there was a supreme calamity. Depravity and folly mustassume the guise of virtue before it can claim her affection. Thisdisguise might be maintained for a time, but its detection mustinevitably come, and the sooner this detection takes place the morebeneficial it must prove.

  I resolved to unbosom myself, with equal and unbounded confidence, toWallace and his mistress. I would choose for this end, not the momentwhen they were separate, but that in which they were together. Myknowledge, and the sources of my knowledge, relative to Wallace, shouldbe unfolded to the lady with simplicity and truth. The lover should bepresent, to confute, to extenuate, or to verify the charges.

  During the rest of the day these images occupied the chief place in mythoughts. The road was miry and dark, and my journey proved to be moretedious and fatiguing than I expected. At length, just as the eveningclosed, the well-known habitation appeared in view. Since my departure,winter had visited the world, and the aspect of nature was desolate anddreary. All around this house was vacant, negligent, forlorn. Thecontrast between these appearances and those which I had noticed on myfirst approach to it, when the ground and the trees were decked withthe luxuriance and vivacity of summer, was mournful, and seemed toforetoken ill. My spirits drooped as I noticed the general inactivityand silence.

  I entered, without warning, the door that led into the parlour. No facewas to be seen or voice heard. The chimney was ornamented, as in summer,with evergreen shrubs. Though it was now the second month of frost andsnow, fire did not appear to have been lately kindled on this hearth.

  This was a circumstance from which nothing good could be deduced. Hadthere been those to share its comforts who had shared them on formeryears, this was the place and hour at which they commonly assembled. Adoor on one side led, through a narrow entry, into the kitchen. I openedthis door, and passed towards the kitchen.

  No one was there but an old man, squatted in the chimney-corner. Hisface, though wrinkled, denoted undecayed health and an unbending spirit.A homespun coat, leathern breeches wrinkled with age, and blue yarnhose, were well suited to his lean and shrivelled form. On his rightknee was a wooden bowl, which he had just replenished from a pipkin ofhasty pudding still smoking on the coals; and in his left hand a spoon,which he had, at that moment, plunged into a bottle of molasses thatstood beside him.

  This action was suspended by my entrance. He looked up and exclaimed,"Heyday! who's this that comes into other people's houses without somuch as saying 'by your leave'? What's thee business? Who's thee want?"

  I had never seen this personage before. I supposed it to be some newdomestic, and inquired for Mr. Hadwin.

  "Ah!" replied he, with a sigh, "William Hadwin. Is it him thee wants?Poor man! He is gone to rest many days since."

  My heart sunk within me at these tidings. "Dead!" said I; "do you meanthat he is dead?"--This exclamation was uttered in a tone of somevehemence. It attracted the attention of some one who was standingwithout, who immediately entered the kitchen. It was Eliza Hadwin. Themoment she beheld me she shrieked aloud, and, rushing into my arms,fainted away.

  The old man dropped his bowl; and, starting from his seat, staredalternately at me and at the breathless girl. My emotion, made up ofjoy, and sorrow, and surprise, rendered me for a moment powerless asshe. At length he said, "I understand this. I know who thee is, and willtell her thee's come." So saying, he hastily left the room.