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

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  The safety of Eliza was the object that now occupied my cares. To haveslept, after her example, had been most proper; but my uncertainty withregard to her fate, and my desire to conduct her to some other home,kept my thoughts in perpetual motion. I waited with impatience till sheshould awake and allow me to consult with her on plans for futurity.

  Her sleep terminated not till the next day had arisen. Having recoveredthe remembrance of what had lately happened, she inquired for hersister. She wanted to view once more the face and kiss the lips of herbeloved Susan. Some relief to her anguish she expected to derive fromthis privilege.

  When informed of the truth, when convinced that Susan had disappearedforever, she broke forth into fresh passion. It seemed as if her losswas not hopeless or complete as long as she was suffered to behold theface of her friend and to touch her lips. She accused me of actingwithout warrant and without justice; of defrauding her of her dearestand only consolation; and of treating her sister's sacred remains withbarbarous indifference and rudeness.

  I explained in the gentlest terms the reasons of my conduct. I was notsurprised or vexed that she, at first, treated them as futile, and asheightening my offence. Such was the impulse of a grief which wasproperly excited by her loss. To be tranquil and steadfast, in the midstof the usual causes of impetuosity and agony, is either the prerogativeof wisdom that sublimes itself above all selfish considerations, or thebadge of giddy and unfeeling folly.

  The torrent was at length exhausted. Upbraiding was at an end; andgratitude, and tenderness, and implicit acquiescence in any scheme whichmy prudence should suggest, succeeded. I mentioned her uncle as one towhom it would be proper, in her present distress, to apply.

  She started and betrayed uneasiness at this name. It was evident thatshe by no means concurred with me in my notions of propriety; that shethought with aversion of seeking her uncle's protection. I requested herto state her objections to this scheme, or to mention any other whichshe thought preferable.

  She knew nobody. She had not a friend in the world but myself. She hadnever been out of her father's house. She had no relation but her unclePhilip, and he--she could not live with him. I must not insist upon hergoing to his house. It was not the place for her. She should never behappy there.

  I was, at first, inclined to suspect in my friend some capricious andgroundless antipathy. I desired her to explain what in her uncle'scharacter made him so obnoxious. She refused to be more explicit, andpersisted in thinking that his house was no suitable abode for her.

  Finding her, in this respect, invincible, I sought for some otherexpedient. Might she not easily be accommodated as a boarder in thecity, or some village, or in a remote quarter of the country? Ellis, hernearest and most opulent neighbour, had refused to receive her; butthere were others who had not his fears. There were others, within thecompass of a day's journey, who were strangers to the cause of Hadwin'sdeath; but would it not be culpable to take advantage of that ignorance?Their compliance ought not to be the result of deception.

  While thus engaged, the incidents of my late journey recurred to myremembrance, and I asked, "Is not the honest woman, who entertainedWallace, just such a person as that of whom I am in search? Hertreatment of Wallace shows her to be exempt from chimerical fears,proves that she has room in her house for an occasional inmate."

  Encouraged by these views, I told my weeping companion that I hadrecollected a family in which she would be kindly treated; and that, ifshe chose, we would not lose a moment in repairing thither. Horses,belonging to the farm, grazed in the meadows, and a couple of thesewould carry us in a few hours to the place which I had selected for herresidence. On her eagerly assenting to this proposal, I inquired inwhose care, and in what state, our present habitation should be left.

  The father's property now belonged to the daughter. Eliza's mind wasquick, active, and sagacious; but her total inexperience gave hersometimes the appearance of folly. She was eager to fly from this house,and to resign herself and her property, without limitation or condition,to my control. Our intercourse had been short, but she relied on myprotection and counsel as absolutely as she had been accustomed to doupon her father's.

  She knew not what answer to make to my inquiry. Whatever I pleased to dowas the best. What did I think ought to be done?

  "Ah!" thought I, "sweet, artless, and simple girl! how wouldst thou havefared, if Heaven had not sent me to thy succour? There are beings in theworld who would make a selfish use of thy confidence; who would beguilethee at once of innocence and property. Such am not I. Thy welfare is aprecious deposit, and no father or brother could watch over it with moresolicitude than I will do."

  I was aware that Mr. Hadwin might have fixed the destination of hisproperty, and the guardianship of his daughters, by will. On suggestingthis to my friend, it instantly reminded her of an incident that tookplace after his last return from the city. He had drawn up his will, andgave it into Susan's possession, who placed it in a drawer, whence itwas now taken by my friend.

  By this will his property was now found to be bequeathed to his twodaughters; and his brother, Philip Hadwin, was named executor, andguardian to his daughters till they should be twenty years old. Thisname was no sooner heard by my friend, than she exclaimed, in a tone ofaffright, "Executor! My uncle! What is that? What power does that givehim?"

  "I know not exactly the power of executors. He will, doubtless, havepossession of your property till you are twenty years of age. Yourperson will likewise be under his care till that time."

  "Must he decide where I am to live?"

  "He is vested with all the power of a father."

  This assurance excited the deepest consternation. She fixed her eyes onthe ground, and was lost, for a time, in the deepest reverie.Recovering, at length, she said, with a sigh, "What if my father hadmade no will?"

  "In that case, a guardian could not be dispensed with, but the right ofnaming him would belong to yourself."

  "And my uncle would have nothing to do with my affairs?"

  "I am no lawyer," said I; "but I presume all authority over your personand property would devolve upon the guardian of your own choice."

  "Then I am free." Saying this, with a sudden motion, she tore in severalpieces the will, which, during this dialogue, she had held in her hand,and threw the fragments into the fire.

  No action was more unexpected to me than this. My astonishment hinderedme from attempting to rescue the paper from the flames. It was consumedin a moment. I was at a loss in what manner to regard this sacrifice. Itdenoted a force of mind little in unison with that simplicity andhelplessness which this girl had hitherto displayed. It argued thedeepest apprehensions of mistreatment from her uncle. Whether hisconduct had justified this violent antipathy, I had no means of judging.Mr. Hadwin's choice of him, as his executor, was certainly one proof ofhis integrity.

  My abstraction was noticed by Eliza with visible anxiety. It was plainthat she dreaded the impression which this act of seeming temerity hadmade upon me. "Do not be angry with me," said she; "perhaps I have beenwrong, but I could not help it. I will have but one guardian and oneprotector."

  The deed was irrevocable. In my present ignorance of the domestichistory of the Hadwins, I was unqualified to judge how far circumstancesmight extenuate or justify the act. On both accounts, therefore, it wasimproper to expatiate upon it.

  It was concluded to leave the care of the house to honest Caleb; tofasten closets and drawers, and, carrying away the money which was foundin one of them, and which amounted to no inconsiderable sum, to repairto the house formerly mentioned. The air was cold; a heavy snow began tofall in the night; the wind blew tempestuously; and we were compelled toconfront it.

  In leaving her dwelling, in which she had spent her whole life, theunhappy girl gave way afresh to her sorrow. It made her feeble andhelpless. When placed upon the horse, she was scarcely able to maintainher seat. Already chilled by the cold, blinded by the drifting snow, andcut by t
he blast, all my remonstrances were needed to inspire her withresolution.

  I am not accustomed to regard the elements, or suffer them to retard ordivert me from any design that I have formed. I had overlooked the weakand delicate frame of my companion, and made no account of her beingless able to support cold and fatigue than myself. It was not till wehad made some progress in our way, that I began to view, in their truelight, the obstacles that were to be encountered. I conceived it,however, too late to retreat, and endeavoured to push on with speed.

  My companion was a skilful rider, but her steed was refractory andunmanageable. She was able, however, to curb his spirit till we hadproceeded ten or twelve miles from Malverton. The wind and the coldbecame too violent to be longer endured, and I resolved to stop at thefirst house which should present itself to my view, for the sake ofrefreshment and warmth.

  We now entered a wood of some extent, at the termination of which Iremembered that a dwelling stood. To pass this wood, therefore, withexpedition, was all that remained before we could reach a hospitableasylum. I endeavoured to sustain, by this information, the sinkingspirits of my companion. While busy in conversing with her, a blast ofirresistible force twisted off the highest branch of a tree before us.It fell in the midst of the road, at the distance of a few feet from herhorse's head. Terrified by this accident, the horse started from thepath, and, rushing into the wood, in a moment threw himself and hisrider on the ground, by encountering the rugged stock of an oak.

  I dismounted and flew to her succour. The snow was already dyed with theblood which flowed from some wound in her head, and she lay withoutsense or motion. My terrors did not hinder me from anxiously searchingfor the hurt which was received, and ascertaining the extent of theinjury. Her forehead was considerably bruised; but, to my unspeakablejoy, the blood flowed from the nostrils, and was, therefore, to beregarded as no mortal symptom.

  I lifted her in my arms, and looked around me for some means of relief.The house at which I proposed to stop was upwards of a mile distant. Iremembered none that was nearer. To place the wounded girl on my ownhorse, and proceed gently to the house in question, was the soleexpedient; but, at present, she was senseless, and might, on recovering,be too feeble to sustain her own weight.

  To recall her to life was my first duty; but I was powerless, orunacquainted with the means. I gazed upon her features, and endeavoured,by pressing her in my arms, to inspire her with some warmth. I lookedtowards the road, and listened for the wished-for sound of some carriagethat might be prevailed on to stop and receive her. Nothing was moreimprobable than that either pleasure or business would induce men toencounter so chilling and vehement a blast. To be lighted on by sometraveller was, therefore, a hopeless event.

  Meanwhile, Eliza's swoon continued, and my alarm increased. What effecther half-frozen blood would have in prolonging this condition, orpreventing her return to life, awakened the deepest apprehensions. Ileft the wood, still bearing her in my arms, and re-entered the road,from the desire of descrying, as soon as possible, the coming passenger.I looked this way and that, and again listened. Nothing but the sweepingblast, rent and fallen branches, and snow that filled and obscured theair, were perceivable. Each moment retarded the course of my own bloodand stiffened my sinews, and made the state of my companion moredesperate. How was I to act? To perish myself, or see her perish, was anignoble fate; courage and activity were still able to avert it. My horsestood near, docile and obsequious; to mount him and to proceed on myway, holding my lifeless burden in my arms, was all that remained.

  At this moment my attention was called by several voices issuing fromthe wood. It was the note of gayety and glee. Presently a sleigh, withseveral persons of both sexes, appeared, in a road which led through theforest into that in which I stood. They moved at a quick pace, but theirvoices were hushed, and they checked the speed of their horses, ondiscovering us. No occurrence was more auspicious than this; for Irelied with perfect confidence on the benevolence of these persons, and,as soon as they came near, claimed their assistance.

  My story was listened to with sympathy, and one of the young men,leaping from the sleigh, assisted me in placing Eliza in the place whichhe had left. A female, of sweet aspect and engaging manners, insistedupon turning back and hastening to the house, where it seems her fatherresided, and which the party had just left. I rode after the sleigh,which in a few minutes arrived at the house. The dwelling was spaciousand neat, and a venerable man and woman, alarmed by the quick return ofthe young people, came forth to know the cause. They received theirguest with the utmost tenderness, and provided her with all theaccommodations which her condition required. Their daughter relinquishedthe scheme of pleasure in which she had been engaged, and, compellingher companions to depart without her, remained to nurse and console thesick.

  A little time showed that no lasting injury had been suffered.Contusions, more troublesome than dangerous, and easily curable by suchapplications as rural and traditional wisdom has discovered, were theonly consequences of the fall. My mind, being relieved fromapprehensions on this score, had leisure to reflect upon the use whichmight be made of the present state of things.

  When I remarked the structure of this house, and the features anddeportment of its inhabitants, methought I discerned a powerfulresemblance between this family and Hadwin's. It seemed as if somebenignant power had led us hither as to the most suitable asylum thatcould be obtained; and, in order to supply to the forlorn Eliza theplace of those parents and that sister she had lost, I conceived that,if their concurrence could be gained, no abode was more suitable thanthis. No time was to be lost in gaining this concurrence. The curiosityof our host and hostess, whose name was Curling, speedily afforded me anopportunity to disclose the history and real situation of my friend.There were no motives to reserve or prevarication. There was nothingwhich I did not faithfully and circumstantially relate. I concluded withstating my wishes that they would admit my friend as a boarder intotheir house.

  The old man was warm in his concurrence. His wife betrayed somescruples; which, however, her husband's arguments and mine removed. Idid not even suppress the tenor and destruction of the will, and theantipathy which Eliza had conceived for her uncle, and which I declaredmyself unable to explain. It presently appeared that Mr. Curling hadsome knowledge of Philip Hadwin, and that the latter had acquired therepute of being obdurate and profligate. He employed all means toaccomplish his selfish ends, and would probably endeavour to usurp theproperty which his brother had left. To provide against his power andhis malice would be particularly incumbent on us, and my new friendreadily promised his assistance in the measures which we should take tothat end.