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

  Chapter V.

  Mrs. Lorimer had a twin-brother. Nature had impressed the same imageupon them, and had modelled them after the same pattern. The resemblancebetween them was exact to a degree almost incredible. In infancy andchildhood they were perpetually liable to be mistaken for each other. Asthey grew up, nothing, to a superficial examination, appeared todistinguish them, but the sexual characteristics. A sagacious observerwould, doubtless, have noted the most essential differences. In allthose modifications of the features which are produced by habits andsentiments, no two persons were less alike. Nature seemed to haveintended them as examples of the futility of those theories whichascribe every thing to conformation and instinct and nothing to externalcircumstances; in what different modes the same materials may befashioned, and to what different purposes the same materials may beapplied. Perhaps the rudiments of their intellectual character, as wellas of their form, were the same; but the powers that in one case wereexerted in the cause of virtue were, in the other, misapplied to sordidand flagitious purposes.

  Arthur Wiatte (that was his name) had ever been the object of hissister's affection. As long as he existed, she never ceased to labour inthe promotion of his happiness. All her kindness was repaid by a sternand inexorable hatred. This man was an exception to all the rules whichgovern us in our judgments of human nature. He exceeded in depravity allthat has been imputed to the arch-foe of mankind. His wickedness waswithout any of those remorseful intermissions from which it has beensupposed that the deepest guilt is not entirely exempt. He seemed torelish no food but pure unadulterated evil. He rejoiced in proportion tothe depth of that distress of which he was the author.

  His sister, by being placed most within the reach of his enmity,experienced its worst effects. She was the subject on which, by beingacquainted with the means of influencing her happiness, he could try hismalignant experiments with most hope of success. Her parents being highin rank and wealth, the marriage of their daughter was, of course, anobject of anxious attention. There is no event on which our felicity andusefulness more materially depends, and with regard to which, therefore,the freedom of choice and the exercise of our own understanding ought tobe less infringed; but this maxim is commonly disregarded in proportionto the elevation of our rank and extent of our property.

  The lady made her own election; but she wras one of those who acted on acomprehensive plan, and would not admit her private inclination todictate her decision. The happiness of others, though founded onmistaken views, she did not consider as unworthy of her regard. Thechoice was such as was not likely to obtain the parental sanction, towhom the moral qualities of their son-in-law, though not absolutelyweightless in the balance, were greatly inferior to the considerationsof wealth and dignity.

  The brother set no value on any thing but the means of luxury and power.He was astonished at that perverseness which entertained a differentconception of happiness from himself. Love and friendship he consideredas groundless and chimerical, and believed that those delusions would,in people of sense, be rectified by experience; but he knew theobstinacy of his sister's attachment to these phantoms, and that tobereave her of the good they promised was the most effectual means ofrendering her miserable. For this end he set himself to thwart herwishes. In the imbecility and false indulgence of his parents he foundthe most powerful auxiliaries. He prevailed upon them to forbid thatunion which wanted nothing but their concurrence, and their consent toendow her with a small portion of their patrimony, to render completelyeligible. The cause was that of her happiness and the happiness of himon whom she had bestowed her heart. It behooved her, therefore, to callforth all her energies in defence of it, to weaken her brother'sinfluence on the minds of her parents, or to win him to be her advocate.When I reflect upon her mental powers, and the advantages which shouldseem to flow from the circumstance of pleading in the character ofdaughter arid sister, I can scarcely believe that her attemptsmiscarried. I should have imagined that all obstacles would yield beforeher, and particularly in a case like this, in which she must havesummoned all her forces, and never have believed that she had struggledsufficiently.

  Certain it is that her lot was fixed. She was not only denied thehusband of her choice, but another was imposed upon her, whoserecommendations were irresistible in every one's apprehension but herown. The discarded lover was treated with every sort of contumely.Deceit and violence were employed by her brother to bring his honour,his liberty, and even his life, into hazard. All these iniquitiesproduced no inconsiderable effect on the mind of the lady. Themachinations to which her love was exposed would have exasperated himinto madness, had not her most strenuous exertions been directed toappease him.

  She prevailed on him at length to abandon his country, though shethereby merely turned her brother's depravity into a new channel. Herparents died without consciousness of the evils they inflicted, but theyexperienced a bitter retribution in the conduct of their son. He was thedarling and stay of an ancient and illustrious house, but his actionsreflected nothing but disgrace upon his ancestry, and threatened tobring the honours of their line to a period in his person. At theirdeath the bulk of their patrimony devolved upon him. This he speedilyconsumed in gaming and riot. From splendid he descended to meaner vices.The efforts of his sister to recall him to virtue were unintermitted andfruitless. Her affection for him he converted into a means of prolonginghis selfish gratifications. She decided for the best. It was no argumentof weakness that she was so frequently deceived. If she had judged trulyof her brother, she would have judged not only without example, but inopposition to the general experience of mankind. But she was not to beforever deceived. Her tenderness was subservient to justice. And whenhis vices had led him from the gaming-table to the highway, when seizedat length by the ministers of law, when convicted and sentenced totransportation, her intercession was solicited, when all the world knewthat pardon would readily be granted to a suppliant of her rank,fortune, and character, when the criminal himself, his kindred, hisfriends, and even indifferent persons, implored her interference, herjustice was inflexible. She knew full well the incurableness of hisdepravity; that banishment was the mildest destiny that would befallhim; that estrangement from ancient haunts and associates was thecondition from which his true friends had least to fear. Findingentreaties unavailing, the wretch delivered himself to the suggestionsof his malice, and he vowed to be bloodily revenged on herinflexibility. The sentence was executed. That character must indeed bemonstrous from which the execution of such threats was to be dreaded.The event sufficiently showed that our fears on this head were wellgrounded. This event, however, was at a great distance. It was reportedthat the felons, of whom he was one, mutinied on board the ship in whichthey had been embarked. In the affray that succeeded, it was said thathe was killed.

  Among the nefarious deeds which he perpetrated was to be numbered theseduction of a young lady, whose heart was broken by the detection ofhis perfidy. The fruit of this unhappy union was a daughter. Her motherdied shortly after her birth. Her father was careless of her destiny.She was consigned to the care of a hireling, who, happily for theinnocent victim, performed the maternal offices for her own sake, anddid not allow the want of a stipulated recompense to render hor cruel orneglectful.

  This orphan was sought out by the benevolence of Mrs. Lorimer and placedunder her own protection. She received from her the treatment of amother. The ties of kindred, corroborated by habit, was not the onlything that united them. That resemblance to herself which had been sodeplorably defective in her brother was completely realized in hisoffspring. Nature seemed to have precluded every difference between thembut that of age. This darling object excited in her bosom more thanmaternal sympathies. Her soul clung to the happiness of her_Clarice_ with more ardour than to that of her own son. The latterwas not only less worthy of affection, but their separation necessarilydiminished their mutual confidence.

  It was natural for her to look forward to the future destiny of_Clarice_. On these occasions she could
not help contemplating thepossibility of a union between her son and niece. Considerableadvantages belonged to this scheme, yet it was the subject of hoperather than the scope of a project. The contingencies were numerous anddelicate on which the ultimate desirableness of this union depended. Shewas far from certain that her son would be worthy of this benefit, orthat, if he were worthy, his propensities would not select forthemselves a different object. It was equally dubious whether the younglady would not think proper otherwise to dispose of her affections.These uncertainties could be dissipated only by time. Meanwhile she waschiefly solicitous to render them virtuous and wise.

  As they advanced in years, the hopes that she had formed wereannihilated. The youth was not exempt from egregious errors. In additionto this, it was manifest that the young people were disposed to regardeach other in no other light than that of brother and sister. I was notunapprized of her views. I saw that their union was impossible. I wasnear enough to judge of the character of Clarice. My youth andintellectual constitution made me peculiarly susceptible to femalecharms. I was her playfellow in childhood, and her associate in studiesand amusements at a maturer age. This situation might have beensuspected of a dangerous tendency. This tendency, however, was obviatedby motives of which I was, for a long time, scarcely conscious.

  I was habituated to consider the distinctions of rank as indelible. Theobstructions that existed, to any wish that I might form, were likethose of time and space, and, in their own nature, as insuperable.

  Such was the state of things previous to our setting out upon ourtravels. Clarice was indirectly included in our correspondence. Myletters were open to her inspection, and I was sometimes honoured with afew complimentary lines under her own hand. On returning to my ancientabode, I was once more exposed to those sinister influences whichabsence had at least suspended. Various suitors had, meanwhile, beenrejected. Their character, for the most part, had been such as toaccount for her refusal, without resorting to the supposition of alurking or unavowed attachment.

  On our meeting she greeted me in a respectful but dignified manner.Observers could discover in it nothing not corresponding to thatdifference of fortune which subsisted between us. If her joy, on thatoccasion, had in it some portion of tenderness, the softness of hertemper, and the peculiar circumstances in which we had been placed,being considered, the most rigid censor could find no occasion for blameor suspicion.

  A year passed away, but not without my attention being solicited bysomething new and inexplicable in my own sensations. At first I was notaware of their true cause; but the gradual progress of my feelings leftme not long in doubt as to their origin. I was alarmed at the discovery,but my courage did not suddenly desert me. My hopes seemed to beextinguished the moment that I distinctly perceived the point to whichthey led. My mind had undergone a change. The ideas with which it wasfraught wrere varied. The sight or recollection of Clarice was sure tooccasion my mind to advert to the recent discovery, and to revolve theconsiderations naturally connected with it. Some latent glows and secrettrepidations were likewise experienced, when, by some accident, ourmeetings were abrupt or our interviews unwitnessed; yet my usualtranquillity was not as yet sensibly diminished. I could bear to thinkof her marriage with another without painful emotions, and was anxiousonly that her choice should be judicious and fortunate.

  My thoughts could not long continue in this state. They gradually becamemore ardent and museful. The image of Clarice occurred with unseasonablefrequency. Its charms were enhanced by some nameless and indefinableadditions. When it met me in the way I was irresistibly disposed to stopand survey it with particular attention. The pathetic cast of herfeatures, the deep glow of her cheek, and some catch of melting musicshe had lately breathed, stole incessantly upon my fancy. On recoveringfrom my thoughtful moods, I sometimes found my cheeks wet with tearsthat had fallen unperceived, and my bosom heaved with involuntary sighs.These images did not content themselves with invading my wakeful hours,but, likewise, encroached upon my sleep. I could no longer resign myselfto slumber with the same ease as before. When I slept, my visions wereof the same impassioned tenor.

  There was no difficulty in judging rightly of my situation. I knew whatit was that duty exacted from me. To remain in my present situation wasa chimerical project. That time and reflection would suffice to restoreme to myself was a notion equally fallacious. Yet I felt aninsupportable reluctance to change it. This reluctance was owing, notwholly or chiefly to my growing passion, but to the attachment whichbound me to the service of my lady. All my contemplations had hithertobeen modelled on the belief of my remaining in my present situationduring my life. My mildest anticipations had never fashioned an eventlike this. Any misfortune was light in comparison with that which toreme from her presence and service. But, should I ultimately resolve toseparate, how should I communicate my purpose? The pain of parting wouldscarcely be less on her side than on mine. Could I consent to be theauthor of disquietude to her? I had consecrated all my faculties to herservice. This was the recompense which it was in my power to make forthe benefits that I had received. Would not this procedure bear theappearance of the basest ingratitude? The shadow of an imputation likethis was more excruciating than the rack.

  What motive could I assign for my conduct? The truth must not be told.This would be equivalent to supplicating for a new benefit. It wouldmore become me to lessen than increase my obligations. Among all myimaginations on this subject, the possibility of a mutual passion neveroccurred to me. I could not be blind to the essential distinctions thatsubsist among men. I could expatiate, like others, on the futility ofribbons and titles, and on the dignity that was annexed to skill andvirtue; but these, for the most part, were the incoherences ofspeculation, and in no degree influenced the stream of my actions andpractical sentiments. The barrier that existed in the present case Ideemed insurmountable. This was not even the subject of doubt. Indisclosing the truth, I should be conceived to be soliciting my lady'smercy and intercession; but this would be the madness of presumption.Let me impress her with any other opinion than that I go in search ofthe happiness that I have lost under her roof. Let me save her generousheart from the pangs which this persuasion would infallibly produce.

  I could form no stable resolutions. I seemed unalterably convinced ofthe necessity of separation, and yet could not execute my design. When Ihad wrought up my mind to the intention of explaining myself on the nextinterview, when the next interview took place my tongue was powerless. Iadmitted any excuse for postponing my design, and gladly admitted anytopic, however foreign to my purpose.

  It must not be imagined that my health sustained no injury from thisconflict of my passions. My patroness perceived this alteration. Sheinquired with the most affectionate solicitude into the cause. It couldnot be explained. I could safely make light of it, and represented it assomething which would probably disappear of itself, as it originatedwithout any adequate cause. She was obliged to acquiesce in my imperfectaccount.

  Day after day passed in this state of fluctuation. I was conscious ofthe dangers of delay, and that procrastination, without rendering thetask less necessary, augmented its difficulties. At length, summoning myresolution, I demanded an audience. She received me with her usualaffability. Common topics were started; but she saw the confusion andtrepidation of my thoughts, and quickly relinquished them. She thennoticed to me what she had observed, and mentioned the anxiety whichthese appearances had given her She reminded me of the maternal regardwhich she had always manifested towards me, and appealed to my own heartwhether any thing could be said in vindication of that reserve withwhich I had lately treated her, and urged me, as I valued her goodopinion, to explain the cause of a dejection _that was toovisible_.

  To all this I could make but one answer:--"Think me not, madam, perverseor ungrateful. I came just now to apprize you of a resolution that I hadformed. I cannot explain the motives that induce me. In this case, tolie to you would be unpardonable, and, since I cannot assign my truemotives, I will no
t mislead you by false representations. I came toinform you of my intention to leave your service, and to retire, withthe fruits of your bounty, to my native village, where I shall spend mylife, I hope, in peace."

  Her surprise at this declaration was beyond measure. She could notbelieve her ears. She had not heard me rightly. She compelled me torepeat it. Still I was jesting. I could not possibly mean what my wordsimported.

  I assured her, in terms still more explicit, that my resolution wastaken and was unalterable, and again entreated her to spare me the taskof assigning my motives.

  This was a strange determination. What could be the grounds of this newscheme? What could be the necessity of hiding them from her? Thismystery was not to be endured. She could by no means away with it. Shethought it hard that I should abandon her at this time, when she stoodin particular need of my assistance and advice. She would refuse nothingto make my situation eligible. I had only to point out where she wasdeficient in her treatment of me, and she would endeavour to supply it.She was willing to augment my emoluments in any degree that I desired.She could not think of parting with me; but, at any rate, she must beinformed of my motives.

  "It is a hard task," answered I, "that I have imposed upon myself. Iforesaw its difficulties, and this foresight has hitherto prevented mefrom undertaking it; but the necessity by which I am impelled will nolonger be withstood. I am determined to go; but to say why isimpossible. I hope I shall not bring upon myself the imputation ofingratitude; but this imputation, more intolerable than any other, mustbe borne, if it cannot be avoided but by this disclosure.

  "Keep your motives to yourself," said she. "I have too good an opinionof you to suppose that you would practise concealment without goodreason. I merely desire you to remain where you are. Since you will nottell me why you take up this new scheme, I can only say that it isimpossible there should be any advantage in this scheme. I will not hearof it, I tell you. Therefore, submit to my decree with a good grace."

  Notwithstanding this prohibition, I persisted in declaring that mydetermination was fixed, and that the motives that governed me wouldallow of no alternative.

  "So, you will go, will you, whether I will or no? I have no power todetain you? You will regard nothing that I can say?"

  "Believe me, madam, no resolution ever was formed after a more vehementstruggle. If my motives were known, you would not only cease to oppose,but would hasten, my departure. Honour me so far with your good opinionas to believe that, in saying this, I say nothing but the truth, andrender my duty less burdensome by cheerfully acquiescing in itsdictates."

  "I would," replied the lady, "I could find somebody that has more powerover you than I have. Whom shall I call in to aid me in this arduoustask?"

  "Nay, dear madam, if I can resist your entreaties, surely no other canhope to succeed."

  "I am not sure of that," said my friend, archly; "there is one person inthe world whose supplications, I greatly suspect, you would notwithstand."

  "Whom do you mean?" said I, in some trepidation.

  "You will know presently. Unless I can prevail upon you, I shall beobliged to call for assistance."

  "Spare me the pain of repeating that no power on earth can change myresolution."

  "That's a fib," she rejoined, with increased archness. "You know it is.If a certain person entreat you to stay, you will easily comply. I see Icannot hope to prevail by my own strength. That is a mortifyingconsideration: but we must not part; that is a point settled. If nothingelse will do, I must go and fetch my advocate. Stay here a moment."

  I had scarcely time to breathe, before she returned, leading in Clarice.I did not yet comprehend the meaning of this ceremony. The lady wasoverwhelmed with sweet confusion. Averted eyes and reluctant steps mighthave explained to me the purpose of this meeting, if I had believed thatpurpose to be possible. I felt the necessity of new fortitude, andstruggled to recollect the motives that had hitherto sustained me.

  "There!" said my patroness; "I have been endeavouring to persuade thisyoung man to live with us a little longer. He is determined, it seems,to change his abode. He will not tell why, and I do not care to know,unless I could show his reasons to be groundless. I have merelyremonstrated with him on the folly of his scheme, but he has provedrefractory to all I can say. Perhaps your efforts may meet with bettersuccess."

  Clarice said not a word. My own embarrassment equally disabled me fromspeaking. Regarding us both, for some time, with a benign aspect, Mrs.Lorimer resumed, taking a hand of each and joining them together:--

  "I very well know what it was that suggested this scheme. It is strangethat you should suppose me so careless an observer as not to note, ornot to understand, your situation. I am as well acquainted with what ispassing in your heart as you yourself are: but why are you so anxious toconceal it? You know less of the adventurousness of love than I shouldhave suspected. But I will not trifle with your feelings.

  "You, Clithero, know the wishes that I once cherished. I had hoped thatmy son would have found, in this darling child, an object worthy of hischoice, and that my girl would have preferred him to all others. But Ihave long since discovered that this could not be. They are nowisesuited to each other. There is one thing in the next place desirable,and now my wishes are accomplished. I see that you love each other; andnever, in my opinion, was a passion more rational and just. I shouldthink myself the worst of beings if I did not contribute all in my powerto your happiness. There is not the shadow of objection to your union. Iknow your scruples, Clithero, and am sorry to see that you harbour themfor a moment. Nothing is more unworthy of your good sense.

  "I found out this girl long ago. Take my word for it, young man, shedoes not fall short of you in the purity and tenderness of herattachment. What need is there of tedious preliminaries? I will leaveyou together, and hope you will not be long in coming to a mutualunderstanding. Your union cannot be completed too soon for my wishes.Clarice is my only and darling daughter. As to you, Clithero, expecthenceforth that treatment from me, not only to which your own meritentitles you, but which is due to the husband of my daughter."--Withthese words she retired, and left us together.

  Great God! deliver me from the torments of this remembrance. That abeing by whom I was snatched from penury and brutal ignorance, exaltedto some rank in the intelligent creation, reared to affluence andhonour, and thus, at last, spontaneously endowed with all that remainedto complete the sum of my felicity, that a being like this-But suchthoughts must not yet be: I must shut them out, or I shall never arriveat the end of my tale. My efforts have been thus far successful. I havehitherto been able to deliver a coherent narrative. Let the last wordsthat I shall speak afford some glimmering of my better days. Let meexecute without faltering the only task that remains for me.