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

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  To explore the house in this manner was so contrary to ordinary rules,that the design was probably wholly unsuspected by the women whom I hadjust left. My silence, at parting, might have been ascribed by them tothe intimidating influence of invectives and threats. Hence I proceededin my search without interruption.

  Presently I reached a front chamber in the third story. The door wasajar. I entered it on tiptoe. Sitting on a low chair by the fire, Ibeheld a female figure, dressed in a negligent but not indecent manner.Her face, in the posture in which she sat, was only half seen. Its hueswere sickly and pale, and in mournful unison with a feeble and emaciatedform. Her eyes were fixed upon a babe that lay stretched upon a pillowat her feet. The child, like its mother, for such she was readilyimagined to be, was meagre and cadaverous. Either it was dead, or couldnot be very distant from death.

  The features of Clemenza were easily recognised, though no contrastcould be greater, in habit and shape and complexion, than that which herpresent bore to her former appearance. All her roses had faded, and herbrilliancies vanished. Still, however, there was somewhat fitted toawaken the tenderest emotions. There were tokens of inconsolabledistress.

  Her attention was wholly absorbed by the child. She lifted not her eyestill I came close to her and stood before her. When she discovered me, afaint start was perceived. She looked at me for a moment, then, puttingone spread hand before her eyes, she stretched out the other towards thedoor, and waving it in silence, as if to admonish me to depart.

  This motion, however emphatical, I could not obey. I wished to obtainher attention, but knew not in what words to claim it. I was silent. Ina moment she removed her hand from her eyes, and looked at me with neweagerness. Her features bespoke emotions which, perhaps, flowed from mylikeness to her brother, joined with the memory of my connection withWelbeck.

  My situation was full of embarrassment. I was by no means certain thatmy language would be understood. I knew not in what light the policy anddissimulation of Welbeck might have taught her to regard me. Whatproposal, conducive to her comfort and her safety, could I make to her?

  Once more she covered her eyes, and exclaimed, in a feeble voice, "Goaway! begone!"

  As if satisfied with this effort, she resumed her attention to herchild. She stooped and lifted it in her arms, gazing, meanwhile, on itsalmost lifeless features with intense anxiety. She crushed it to herbosom, and, again looking at me, repeated, "Go away! go away! begone!"

  There was somewhat in the lines of her face, in her tones and gestures,that pierced to my heart. Added to this, was my knowledge of hercondition; her friendlessness; her poverty; the pangs of unrequitedlove; and her expiring infant. I felt my utterance choked, and my tearsstruggling for passage. I turned to the window, and endeavoured toregain my tranquillity.

  "What was it," said I, "that brought me hither? The perfidy of Welbeckmust surely have long since been discovered. What can I tell her of theVillars which she does not already know, or of which the knowledge willbe useful? If their treatment has been just, why should I detract fromtheir merit? If it has been otherwise, their own conduct will havedisclosed their genuine character. Though voluptuous themselves, it doesnot follow that they have laboured to debase this creature. Thoughwanton, they may not be inhuman.

  "I can propose no change in her condition for the better. Should she bewilling to leave this house, whither is it in my power to conduct her?Oh that I were rich enough to provide food for the hungry, shelter forthe houseless, and raiment for the naked!"

  I was roused from these fruitless reflections by the lady, whom somesudden thought induced to place the child in its bed, and, rising, tocome towards me. The utter dejection which her features lately betrayedwas now changed for an air of anxious curiosity. "Where," said she, inher broken English,--"where is Signor Welbeck?"

  "Alas!" returned I, "I know not. That question might, I thought, withmore propriety be put to you than me."

  "I know where he be; I fear where he be."

  So saying, the deepest sighs burst from her heart. She turned from me,and, going to the child, took it again into her lap. Its pale and sunkencheek was quickly wet with the mother's tears, which, as she silentlyhung over it, dropped fast from her eyes.

  This demeanour could not but awaken curiosity, while it gave a new turnto my thoughts. I began to suspect that in the tokens which I saw therewas not only distress for her child, but concern for the fate ofWelbeck. "Know you," said I, "where Mr. Welbeck is? Is he alive? Is henear? Is he in calamity?"

  "I do not know if he be alive. He be sick. He be in prison. They willnot let me go to him. And"--here her attention and mine was attracted bythe infant, whose frame, till now motionless, began to be tremulous. Itsfeatures sunk into a more ghastly expression. Its breathings weredifficult, and every effort to respire produced a convulsion harder thanthe last.

  The mother easily interpreted these tokens. The same mortal struggleseemed to take place in her features as in those of her child. At lengthher agony found way in a piercing shriek. The struggle in the infant waspast. Hope looked in vain for a new motion in its heart or its eyelids.The lips were closed, and its breath was gone forever!

  The grief which overwhelmed the unhappy parent was of that outrageousand desperate kind which is wholly incompatible with thinking. A fewincoherent motions and screams, that rent the soul, were followed by adeep swoon. She sunk upon the floor, pale and lifeless as her babe.

  I need not describe the pangs which such a scene was adapted to producein me. These were rendered more acute by the helpless and ambiguoussituation in which I was placed. I was eager to bestow consolation andsuccour, but was destitute of all means. I was plunged intouncertainties and doubts. I gazed alternately at the infant and itsmother. I sighed. I wept. I even sobbed. I stooped down and took thelifeless hand of the sufferer. I bathed it with my tears, and exclaimed,"Ill-fated woman! unhappy mother! what shall I do for thy relief? Howshall I blunt the edge of this calamity, and rescue thee from newevils?"

  At this moment the door of the apartment was opened, and the younger ofthe women whom I had seen below entered. Her looks betrayed the deepestconsternation and anxiety. Her eyes in a moment were fixed by thedecayed form and the sad features of Clemenza. She shuddered at thisspectacle, but was silent. She stood in the midst of the floor,fluctuating and bewildered. I dropped the hand that I was holding, andapproached her.

  "You have come," said I, "in good season. I know you not, but willbelieve you to be good. You have a heart, it may be, not free fromcorruption, but it is still capable of pity for the miseries of others.You have a hand that refuses not its aid to the unhappy. See; there isan infant dead. There is a mother whom grief has, for a time, deprivedof life. She has been oppressed and betrayed; been robbed of propertyand reputation--but not of innocence. She is worthy of relief. Have youarms to receive her? Have you sympathy, protection, and a home to bestowupon a forlorn, betrayed, and unhappy stranger? I know not what thishouse is; I suspect it to be no better than a brothel. I know not whattreatment this woman has received. When her situation and wants areascertained, will you supply her wants? Will you rescue her from evilsthat may attend her continuance here?"

  She was disconcerted and bewildered by this address. At length shesaid, "All that has happened, all that I have heard and seen, is sounexpected, so strange, that I am amazed and distracted. Your behaviourI cannot comprehend, nor your motive for making this address to me. Icannot answer you, except in one respect. If this woman has sufferedinjury, I have had no part in it. I knew not of her existence nor hersituation till this moment; and whatever protection or assistance shemay justly claim, I am both able and willing to bestow. I do not livehere, but in the city. I am only an occasional visitant in this house."

  "What, then!" I exclaimed, with sparkling eyes and a rapturous accent,"you are not profligate; are a stranger to the manners of this house,and a detester of these manners? Be not a deceiver, I entreat you. Idepend only on your looks and p
rofessions, and these may be dissembled."

  These questions, which indeed argued a childish simplicity, excited hersurprise. She looked at me, uncertain whether I was in earnest or injest. At length she said, "Your language is so singular, that I am at aloss how to answer it. I shall take no pains to find out its meaning,but leave you to form conjectures at leisure. Who is this woman, and howcan I serve her?" After a pause, she continued:--"I cannot afford herany immediate assistance, and shall not stay a moment longer in thishouse. There" (putting a card in my hand) "is my name and place ofabode. If you shall have any proposals to make, respecting this woman, Ishall be ready to receive them in my own house." So saying, shewithdrew.

  I looked wistfully after her, but could not but assent to her assertion,that her presence here would be more injurious to her than beneficial toClemenza. She had scarcely gone, when the elder woman entered. There wasrage, sullenness, and disappointment in her aspect. These, however, weresuspended by the situation in which she discovered the mother and child.It was plain that all the sentiments of woman were not extinguished inher heart. She summoned the servants and seemed preparing to take suchmeasures as the occasion prescribed. I now saw the folly of supposingthat these measures would be neglected, and that my presence could notessentially contribute to the benefit of the sufferer. Still, however, Ilingered in the room, till the infant was covered with a cloth, and thestill senseless parent was conveyed into an adjoining chamber. The womanthen, as if she had not seen me before, fixed scowling eyes upon me, andexclaimed, "Thief! villain! why do you stay here?"

  "I mean to go," said I, "but not till I express my gratitude andpleasure at the sight of your attention to this sufferer. You deem meinsolent and perverse, but I am not such; and hope that the day willcome when I shall convince you of my good intentions."

  "Begone!" interrupted she, in a more angry tone. "Begone this moment, orI will treat you as a thief." She now drew forth her hand from under hergown, and showed a pistol. "You shall see," she continued, "that I willnot be insulted with impunity. If you do not vanish, I will shoot you asa robber."

  This woman was far from wanting a force and intrepidity worthy of adifferent sex. Her gestures and tones were full of energy. They denoteda haughty and indignant spirit. It was plain that she conceived herselfdeeply injured by my conduct; and was it absolutely certain that heranger was without reason? I had loaded her house with atrociousimputations, and these imputations might be false. I had conceived themupon such evidence as chance had provided; but this evidence, intricateand dubious as human actions and motives are, might be void of truth.

  "Perhaps," said I, in a sedate tone, "I have injured you; I havemistaken your character. You shall not find me less ready to repair,than to perpetrate, this injury. My error was without malice, and----"

  I had not time to finish the sentence, when this rash and enraged womanthrust the pistol close to my head and fired it. I was wholly unawarethat her fury would lead her to this excess. It was a sort of mechanicalimpulse that made me raise my hand and attempt to turn aside theweapon. I did this deliberately and tranquilly, and without conceivingthat any thing more was intended by her movement than to intimidate me.To this precaution, however, I was indebted for life. The bullet wasdiverted from my forehead to my left ear, and made a slight wound uponthe surface, from which the blood gushed in a stream.

  The loudness of this explosion, and the shock which the ball produced inmy brain, sunk me into a momentary stupor. I reeled backward, and shouldhave fallen, had not I supported myself against the wall. The sight ofmy blood instantly restored her reason. Her rage disappeared, and wassucceeded by terror and remorse. She clasped her hands, and exclaimed,"Oh! what! what have I done? My frantic passion has destroyed me."

  I needed no long time to show me the full extent of the injury which Ihad suffered and the conduct which it became me to adopt. For a moment Iwas bewildered and alarmed, but presently perceived that this was anincident more productive of good than of evil. It would teach me cautionin contending with the passions of another, and showed me that there isa limit which the impetuosities of anger will sometimes overstep.Instead of reviling my companion, I addressed myself to her thus:--

  "Be not frighted. You have done me no injury, and, I hope, will deriveinstruction from this event. Your rashness had like to have sacrificedthe life of one who is your friend, and to have exposed yourself toinfamy and death, or, at least, to the pangs of eternal remorse. Learnfrom hence to curb your passions, and especially to keep at a distancefrom every murderous weapon, on occasions when rage is likely to takeplace of reason.

  "I repeat that my motives in entering this house were connected withyour happiness as well as that of Clemenza Lodi. If I have erred insupposing you the member of a vile and pernicious trade, that error wasworthy of being rectified, but violence and invective tend only toconfirm it. I am incapable of any purpose that is not beneficent; but,in the means that I use and in the evidence on which I proceed, I amliable to a thousand mistakes. Point out to me the road by which I cando you good, and I will cheerfully pursue it."

  Finding that her fears had been groundless as to the consequences of herrashness, she renewed, though with less vehemence than before, herimprecations on my intermeddling and audacious folly. I listened tillthe storm was nearly exhausted, and then, declaring my intention torevisit the house if the interest of Clemenza should require it, Iresumed my way to the city.