EDGAR HUNTLY; ON, MEMOIRS OF A SLEEP-WALKER. CHAPTER I.
[figure description] Page 003.[end figure description]
I sit down, my friend, to
comply with thy request. At length
does the impetuosity of my fears, the
transports of my wonder permit me to
recollect my promise and perform it. At
length am I somewhat delivered from
suspence and from tremors. At length
the drama is brought to an imperfect
close, and the series of events, that absorbed
my faculties, that hurried away
my attention, has terminated in repose.
-- 004 --
[figure description] Page 004.[end figure description]
Till now, to hold a steadfast pen was
impossible; to disengage my senses from
the scene that was passing or approaching;
to forbear to grasp at futurity; to
suffer so much thought to wander from
the purpose which engrossed my fears
and my hopes, could not be.
Yet am I sure that even now my perturbations
are sufficiently stilled for an
employment like this? That the incidents
I am going to relate can be recalled
and arranged without indistinctness
and confusion? That emotions will not
be re-awakened by my narrative, incompatible
with order and coherence? Yet
when I shall be better qualified for this
task I know not. Time may take away
these headlong energies, and give me
back my ancient sobriety: but this change
will only be effected by weakening my
remembrance of these events. In proportion
as I gain power over words,
shall I lose dominion over sentiments
-- 005 --
[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]
In proportion as my tale is deliberate
and slow, the incidents and motives
which it is designed to exhibit will be
imperfectly revived and obscurely pourtrayed.
O! why art thou away at a time like
this. Wert thou present, the office to
which my pen is so inadequate would
easily be executed by my tongue. Accents
can scarcely be too rapid, or that which
words should fail to convey, my looks
and gestures would suffice to communicate.
But I know thy coming is impossible.
To leave this spot is equally
beyond my power. To keep thee in
ignorance of what has happened would
justly offend thee. There is no method
of informing thee except by letter, and
this method, must I, therefore, adopt.
How short is the period that has
elapsed since thou and I parted, and yet
how full of tumult and dismay has been
-- 006 --
[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]
my soul during that period! What light
has burst upon my ignorance of myself
and of mankind! How sudden and enormous
the transition from uncertainty to
knowledge!---
But let me recall my thoughts: let
me struggle for so much composure as
will permit my pen to trace intelligible
characters. Let me place in order the
incidents that are to compose my tale.
I need not call on thee to listen. The
fate of Waldegrave was as fertile of torment
to thee as to me. His bloody and
mysterious catastrophe equally awakened
thy grief, thy revenge, and thy curiosity.
Thou wilt catch from my story
every horror and every sympathy which
it paints. Thou wilt shudder with my
forboding and dissolve with my tears.
As the sister of my friend, and as one
who honours me with her affection, thou
-- 007 --
[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]
wilt share in all my tasks and all my
dangers.
You need not be reminded with what
reluctance I left you. To reach this
place by evening was impossible, unless
I had set out early in the morning, but
your society was too precious not to
be enjoyed to the last moment. It was
indispensable to be here on Tuesday,
but my duty required no more than
that I should arrive by sun-rise on that
day. To travel during the night, was
productive of no formidable inconvenience.
The air was likely to be frosty
and sharp, but these would not incommode
one who walked with speed. A
nocturnal journey in districts so romantic
and wild as these, through which lay
my road, was more congenial to my temper
than a noon-day ramble.
By night-fall I was within ten miles
of my uncle's house. As the darkness
-- 008 --
[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]
increased, and I advanced on my way,
my sensations sunk into melancholy.
The scene and the time reminded me
of the friend whom I had lost. I recalled
his features, and accents, and gestures,
and mused with unutterable feelings on
the circumstances of his death.
My recollections once more plunged
me into anguish and perplexity. Once
more I asked, who was his assassin?
By what motives could he be impelled
to a deed like this? Waldegrave was
pure from all offence. His piety was
rapturous. His benevolence was a stranger
to remisness or torpor. All who
came within the sphere of his influence
experienced and acknowledged his benign
activity. His friends were few,
because his habits were timid and reserved,
but the existence of an enemy
was impossible.
I recalled the incidents of our last
interview, my importunities that he
-- 009 --
[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]
should postpone his ill-omened journey
till the morning, his inexplicable obstinacy;
his resolution to set out on foot,
during a dark and tempestuous night,
and the horrible disaster that befel him.
The first intimation I received of this
misfortune, the insanity of vengeance
and grief into which I was hurried, my
fruitless searches for the author of this
guilt, my midnight wanderings and reveries
beneath the shade of that fatal Elm,
were revived and re-acted. I heard the
discharge of the pistol, I witnessed the
alarm of Inglefield, I heard his calls to
his servants, and saw them issue forth,
with lights and hasten to the spot whence
the sound had seemed to proceed. I
beheld my friend, stretched upon the
earth, ghastly with a mortal wound,
alone, with no traces of the slayer visible,
no tokens by which his place of
refuge might be sought, the motives of
-- 010 --
[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]
his enmity or his instruments of mischief
might be detected.
I hung over the dying youth, whose
insensibility forbade him to recognize his
friend, or unfold the cause of his destruction.
I accompanied his remains to
the grave, I tended the sacred spot where
he lay, I once more exercised my penetration
and my zeal in pursuit of his
assassin. Once more my meditations
and exertions were doomed to be disappointed.
I need not remind thee of what is past.
Time and reason seemed to have dissolved
the spell which made me deaf to
the dictates of duty and discretion. Remembrances
had ceased to agonize, to
urge me to headlong acts, and foster sanguinary
purposes. The gloom was half
dispersed and a radiance had succeeded
sweeter than my former joys.
Now, by some unseen concurrence of
reflections, my thoughts reverted into
-- 011 --
[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]
some degree of bitterness. Methought
that to ascertain the hand who killed my
friend, was not impossible, and to punish
the crime was just. That to forbear
inquiry or withold punishment was to violate
my duty to my God and to mankind.
The impulse was gradually awakened
that bade me once more to seek the Elm;
once more to explore the ground; to
scrutinize its trunk. What could I expect
to find? Had it not been an hundred times
examined? Had I not extended my search
to the neighbouring groves and precipices?
Had I not pored upon the brooks,
and pryed into the pits and hollows, that
were adjacent to the scene of blood?
Lately I had viewed this conduct with
shame and regret; but in the present state
of my mind, it assumed the appearance
of conformity with prudence, and I felt
myself irresistably prompted to repeat
my search. Some time had elapsed
-- 012 --
[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]
since my departure from this district.
Time enough for momentous changes
to occur. Expedients that formerly were
useless, might now lead instantaneously
to the end which I sought. The tree
which had formerly been shunned by
the criminal, might, in the absence of
the avenger of blood, be incautiously
approached. Thoughtless or fearless
of my return, it was possible that he
might, at this moment, be detected hovering
near the scene of his offences.
Nothing can be pleaded in extenuation
of this relapse into folly. My return,
after an absence of some duration, into
the scene of these transactions and sufferings,
the time of night, the glimmering
of the stars, the obscurity in which
external objects were wrapped, and
which, consequently, did not draw my
attention from the images of fancy, may,
in some degree, account for the revival
-- 013 --
[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]
of those sentiments and resolutions
which immediately succeeded the death
of Waldegrave, and which, during my
visit to you, had been suspended.
You know the situation of the Elm,
in the midst of a private road, on the
verge of Norwalk, near the habitation
of Inglefield, but three miles from my
uncle's house. It was now my intention
to visit it. The road in which I was
travelling, led a different way. It was
requisite to leave it, therefore, and make
a circuit through meadows and over
steeps. My journey would, by these
means, be considerably prolonged, but
on that head I was indifferent, or rather,
considering how far the night had already
advanced, it was desirable not to
reach home till the dawn.
I proceeded in this new direction
with speed. Time, however, was allowed
for my impetuosities to subside, and for
sober thoughts to take place. Still I
-- 014 --
[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]
persisted in this path. To linger a few
moments in this shade; to ponder on objects
connected with events so momentous
to my happiness, promised me a
mournful satisfaction. I was familiar
with the way, though trackless and intricate,
and I climbed the steeps, crept
through the brambles, leapt the rivulets
and fences with undeviating aim, till at
length I reached the craggy and obscure
path, which led to Inglefield's house.
In a short time, I described through
the dusk the wide-spread branches of
the Elm. This tree, however faintly
seen, cannot be mistaken for another.
The remarkable bulk and shape of its
trunk, its position in the midst of the
way, its branches spreading into an ample
circumference, made it conspicuous
from afar. My pulse throbbed as I
approached it.
My eyes were eagerly bent to discover
the trunk and the area beneath
-- 015 --
[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]
the shade. These, as I approached,
gradually became visible. The trunk
was not the only thing which appeared
in view. Somewhat else, which made
itself distinguishable by its motions, was
likewise noted. I faultered and stopt.
To a casual observer this appearance
would have been unnoticed. To me, it
could not but possess a powerful significance.
All my surmises and suspicions,
instantly returned. This apparition
was human, it was connected with
the fate of Waldegrave, it led to a disclosure
of the author of that fate. What
was I to do? To approach unwarily
would alarm the person. Instant flight
would set him beyond discovery and
reach.
I walked softly to the road-side.
The ground was covered with rocky
masses, scattered among shrub-oaks and
-- 016 --
[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]
dwarf-cedars, emblems of its sterile and
uncultivated state. Among these it was
possible to elude observation and yet
approach near enough to gain an accurate
view of this being.
At this time, the atmosphere was
somewhat illuminated by the moon,
which, though it had already set, was
yet so near the horizon, as to benefit
me by its light. The shape of a man,
tall and robust, was now distinguished.
Repeated and closer scrutiny enabled
me to perceive that he was employed in
digging the earth. Something like flannel
was wrapt round his waist and covered
his lower limbs. The rest of his
frame was naked. I did not recognize
in him any one whom I knew.
A figure, robust and strange, and
half naked, to be thus employed, at this
hour and place, was calculated to rouse
up my whole soul. His occupation was
-- 017 --
[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]
mysterious and obscure. Was it a grave
that he was digging? Was his purpose to
explore or to hide? Was it proper to
watch him at a distance, unobserved and
in silence, or to rush upon him and extort
from him by violence or menaces,
an explanation of the scene?
Before my resolution was formed, he
ceased to dig. He cast aside his spade
and sat down in the pit that he had dug.
He seemed wrapt in meditation; but the
pause was short, and succeeded by sobs,
at first low, and at wide intervals, but presently
louder and more vehement. Sorely
charged was indeed that heart whence
flowed these tokens of sorrow. Never
did I witness a scene of such mighty
anguish, such heart-bursting grief.
What should I think? I was suspended
in astonishment. Every sentiment,
at length, yielded to my sympathy
Every new accent of the mourner struck
-- 018 --
[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]
upon my heart with additional force, and
tears found their way spontaneously to
my eyes. I left the spot where I stood,
and advanced within the verge of the
shade. My caution had forsaken me,
and instead of one whom it was duty
to persecute, I beheld, in this man,
nothing but an object of compassion.
My pace was checked by his suddenly
ceasing to lament. He snatched
the spade, and rising on his feet began
to cover up the pit with the utmost diligence.
He seemed aware of my presence,
and desirous of hiding something
from my inspection. I was prompted to
advance nearer and hold his hand, but
my uncertainty as to his character and
views, the abruptness with which I had
been ushered into this scene, made me
still hesitate; but though I hesitated to
advance, there was nothing to hinder me
from calling.
-- 019 --
[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]
What, ho! said I. Who is there?
What are you doing?
He stopt, the spade fell from his hand,
he looked up and bent forward his face
towards the spot where I stood. An
interview and explanation were now me-thought
unavoidable. I mustered up
my courage to confront and interrogate
this being.
He continued for a minute in his
gazing and listening attitude. Where I
stood I could not fail of being seen,
and yet he acted as if he saw nothing.
Again he betook himself to his spade,
and proceeded with new diligence to fill
up the pit. This demeanour confounded
and bewildered me. I had no power
but to stand and silently gaze upon his
motions.
The pit being filled, he once more
sat upon the ground, and resigned
-- 020 --
[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]
himself to weeping and sighs with more
vehemence than before. In a short time
the fit seemed to have passed. He rose,
seized the spade, and advanced to the
spot where I stood.
Again I made preparation as for an
interview which could not but take place.
He passed me, however, without appearing
to notice my existence. He came so
near as almost to brush my arm, yet
turned not his head to either side. My
nearer view of him, made his brawny
arms and lofty stature more conspicuous;
but his imperfect dress, the dimness of
the light, and the confusion of my own
thoughts, hindered me from discerning
his features. He proceeded with a few
quick steps, along the road, but presently
darted to one side and disappeared
among the rocks and bushes.
My eye followed him as long as he
was visible, but my feet were rooted to
-- 021 --
[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]
the spot. My musing was rapid and
incongruous. It could not fail to terminate
in one conjecture, that this person
was asleep. Such instances were not
unknown to me, through the medium of
conversation and books. Never, indeed,
had it fallen under my own observation
till now, and now it was conspicuous and
environed with all that could give edge
to suspicion, and vigour to inquiry. To
stand here was no longer of use, and I
turned my steps toward my uncle's habitation.
-- 022 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER II.
[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]
I had food enough for the
longest contemplation. My steps partook,
as usual, of the vehemence of
my thoughts, and I reached my uncle's
gate before I believed myself to have
lost sight of the Elm. I looked up and
discovered the well-known habitation. I
could not endure that my reflections
should so speedily be interrupted. I,
therefore, passed the gate, and stopped
not till I had reached a neighbouring
summit, crowned with chesnut-oaks and
poplars.
-- 023 --
[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]
Here I more deliberately reviewed
the incidents that had just occurred. The
inference was just, that the man, half-clothed
and digging, was a sleeper: But
what was the cause of this morbid activity?
What was the mournful vision that
dissolved him in tears, and extorted from
him tokens of inconsolable distress?
What did he seek, or what endeavour
to conceal in this fatal spot? The incapacity
of sound sleep denotes a mind
sorely wounded. It is thus that atrocious
criminals denote the possession of some
dreadful secret. The thoughts, which
considerations of safety enables them to
suppress or disguise during wakefulness,
operate without impediment, and exhibit
their genuine effects, when the notices
of sense are partly excluded, and they
are shut out from a knowledge of their
intire condition.
-- 024 --
[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]
This is the perpetrator of some nefareous
deed. What but the murder of
Waldegrave could direct his steps hither?
His employment was part of some fantastic
drama in which his mind was busy.
To comprehend it, demands penetration
into the recesses of his soul. But one
thing is sure; an incoherent conception
of his concern in that transaction,
bewitches him hither. This it is that
deluges his heart with bitterness and
supplies him with ever-flowing tears.
But whence comes he? He does not
start from the bosom of the earth, or
hide himself in airy distance. He must
have a name and a terrestrial habitation.
It cannot be at an immeasurable distance
from the haunted Elm. Inglefield's
house is the nearest. This may be one
of its inhabitants. I did not recognize
his features, but this was owing to the
dusky atmosphere and to the singularity
-- 025 --
[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]
of his garb. Inglefield has two servants,
one of whom was a native of this district,
simple, guileless and incapable of
any act of violence. He was, moreover
devoutly attached to his sect. He could
not be the criminal.
The other was a person of a very different
cast. He was an emigrant from
Ireland, and had been six months in the
family of my friend. He was a pattern
of sobriety and gentleness. His mind
was superior to his situation. His natural
endowments were strong, and had
enjoyed all the advantage of cultivation.
His demeanour was grave, and thoughtful,
and compassionate. He appeared
not untinctured with religion, but his
devotion, though unostentatious, was of
a melancholy tenor.
There was nothing in the first view
of his character calculated to engender
suspicion. The neighbourhood was
-- 026 --
[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]
populous. But as I conned over the
catalogue, I perceived that the only
foreigner among us was Clithero. Our
scheme was, for the most part, a patriarchal
one. Each farmer was surrounded
by his sons and kinsmen. This was an
exception to the rule. Clithero was a
stranger, whose adventures and character,
previously to his coming hither, were
unknown to us. The Elm was surrounded
by his master's domains. An actor
there must be, and no one was equally
questionable.
The more I revolved the pensive and
reserved deportment of this man, the
ignorance in which we were placed respecting
his former situation, his possible
motives for abandoning his country
and chusing a station so much below the
standard of his intellectual attainments,
the stronger my suspicions became. Formerly,
when occupied with conjectures
-- 027 --
[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]
relative to the same topic, the image of
this man did not fail to occur; but the
seeming harmlessness of his ordinary
conduct, had raised him to a level with
others, and placed him equally beyond
the reach of suspicion. I did not, till
now, advert to the recentness of his
appearance among us, and to the obscurity
that hung over his origin and past
life. But now these considerations appeared
so highly momentous, as almost
to decide the question of his guilt.
But how were these doubts to be
changed into absolute certainty. Henceforth
this man was to become the subject
of my scrutiny. I was to gain all the
knowledge, respecting him, which those
with whom he lived, and were the perpetual
witnesses of his actions, could
impart. For this end I was to make
minute inquiries, and to put seasonable
-- 028 --
[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]
interrogatories. From this conduct I
promised myself an ultimate solution of
my doubts.
I acquiesced in this view of things
with considerable satisfaction. It seemed
as if the maze was no longer inscrutable.
It would be quickly discovered who were
the agents and instigators of the murder
of my friend.
But it suddenly occurred to me For
what purpose shall I prosecute this
search? What benefit am I to reap from
this discovery? How shall I demean myself
when the criminal is detected? I
was not insensible, at that moment, of
the impulses of vengeance, but they
were transient. I detested the sanguinary
resolutions that I had once
formed. Yet I was fearful of the effects
of my hasty rage, and dreaded an encounter,
in consequence of which, I
-- 029 --
[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]
might rush into evils which no time
could repair, nor penitence expiate.
But why, said I, should it be impossible
to arm myself with firmness? If
forbearance be the dictate of wisdom,
cannot it be so deeply engraven on my
mind as to defy all temptation, and be
proof against the most abrupt surprise.
My late experience has been of use to
me. It has shewn me my weakness and
my strength. Having found my ancient
fortifications insufficient to withstand the
enemy, what should I learn from thence
but that it becomes me to strengthen and
enlarge them.
No caution indeed can hinder the
experiment from being hazardous. Is it
wise to undertake experiments by which
nothing can be gained, and much may
be lost? Curiosity is vicious, if undisciplined
by reason, and inconducive to
benefit.
-- 030 --
[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]
I was not, however, to be diverted
from my purpose. Curiosity, like virtue,
is its own reward. Knowledge is
of value for its own sake, and pleasure
is annexed to the acquisition, without
regard to any thing beyond. It is precious
even when disconnected with moral
inducements and heart-felt sympathies,
but the knowledge which I sought by its
union with these was calculated to excite
the most complex and fiery sentiment in
my bosom.
Hours were employed in revolving
these thoughts. At length I began to be
sensible of fatigue, and returning home,
explored the way to my chamber without
molesting the repose of the family.
You know that our doors are always
unfastened, and are accessible at all
hours of the night.
My slumbers were imperfect, and I
rejoiced when the morning light
-- 031 --
[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]
permitted me to resume my meditations.
The day glided away, I scarcely know
how, and as I had rejoiced at the return
of morning, I now hailed, with pleasure,
the approach of night.
My uncle and sisters having retired,
I betook myself, instead of following
their example, to the Chesnut-hill. Concealed
among its rocks, or gazing at the
prospect, which stretched so far and so
wide around it, my fancy has always
been accustomed to derive its highest
enjoyment from this spot. I found myself
again at leisure to recall the scene
which I had witnessed during the last
night, to imagine its connection with the
fate of Waldegrave, and to plan the
means of discovering the secret that was
hidden under these appearances.
Shortly, I began to feel insupportable
disquiet at the thoughts of postponing
-- 032 --
[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
this discovery. Wiles and stratagems
were practicable, but they were tedious
and of dubious success. Why should I
proceed like a plotter? Do I intend the
injury of this person? A generous purpose
will surely excuse me from descending
to artifices? There are two modes
of drawing forth the secrets of another,
by open and direct means and by circuitous
and indirect. Why scruple to adopt
the former mode? Why not demand a
conference, and state my doubts, and
demand a solution of them, in a manner
worthy of a beneficent purpose? Why
not hasten to the spot? He may be, at
this moment, mysteriously occupied under
this shade. I may note his behaviour;
I may ascertain his person, if not
by the features that belong to him, yet
by tracing his footsteps when he departs,
and pursuing him to his retreats.
-- 033 --
[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]
I embraced the scheme, which was
thus suggested, with eagerness. I threw
myself, with headlong speed, down the
hill and pursued my way to the Elm.
As I approached the tree, my palpitations
increased, though my pace slackened.
I looked forward with an anxious
glance. The trunk of the tree was
hidden in the deepest shade. I advanced
close up to it. No one was visible,
but I was not discouraged. The hour
of his coming was, perhaps, not arrived.
I took my station at a small distance, beside
a fence, on the right hand.
An hour elapsed before my eyes
lighted on the object of which they were
in search. My previous observation had
been roving from one quarter to another.
At last, it dwelt upon the tree. The person
whom I before described was seated
on the ground. I had not perceived him
before, and the means by which he placed
-- 034 --
[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
himself in this situation had escaped my
notice. He seemed like one, whom an
effort of will, without the exercise of
locomotion, had transported hither, or
made visible. His state of disarray, and
the darkness that shrouded him, prevented
me, as before, from distinguishing
any peculiarities in his figure or countenance.
I continued watchful and mute. The
appearances already described took place,
on this occasion, except the circumstance
of digging in the earth. He sat musing
for a while, then burst into sighs and
lamentations.
These being exhausted, he rose to
depart. He stalked away with a solemn
and deliberate pace. I resolved to tread,
as closely as possible, in his footsteps,
and not to lose sight of him till the termination
of his career.
-- 035 --
[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
Contrary to my expectation, he went
in a direction opposite to that which led
to Inglefield's. Presently, he stopped at
bars, which he cautiously removed, and,
when he had passed through them, as
deliberately replaced. He then proceeded
along an obscure path, which led
across stubble fields, to a wood. The
path continued through the wood, but
he quickly struck out of it, and made his
way, seemingly at random, through a
most perplexing undergrowth of bushes
and briars.
I was, at first, fearful that the noise,
which I made behind him, in trampling
down the thicket, would alarm him; but
he regarded it not. The way that he
had selected, was always difficult; sometimes
considerable force was requisite to
beat down obstacles; sometimes, it led
into a deep glen, the sides of which
were so steep as scarcely to afford a
-- 036 --
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
footing; sometimes, into fens, from which
some exertions were necessary to extricate
the feet, and sometimes, through
rivulets, of which the water rose to the
middle.
For some time I felt no abatement
of my speed or my resolution. I thought
I might proceed, without fear, through
breaks and dells, which my guide was
able to penetrate. He was perpetually
changing his direction. I could form
no just opinion as to my situation or distance
from the place at which we had
set out.
I began at length to be weary. A
suspicion, likewise, suggested itself to
my mind, whether my guide did not
perceive that he was followed, and thus
prolonged his journey in order to fatigue
or elude his pursuer. I was determined,
however, to baffle his design. Though
the air was frosty, my limbs were
-- 037 --
[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
bedewed with sweat and my joints were
relaxed with toil, but I was obstinately
bent upon proceeding.
At length a new idea occurred to me.
On finding me indefatigable in pursuit,
this person might resort to more atrocious
methods of concealment. But what
had I to fear? It was sufficient to be upon
my guard. Man to man, I needed not
to dread his encounter.
We, at last, arrived at the verge of
a considerable precipice. He kept along
the edge. From this height, a dreary
vale was discoverable, embarrassed with
the leafless stocks of bushes, and encumbered
with rugged and pointed rocks.
This scene reminded me of my situation.
The desert tract called Nor-walk, which
I have often mentioned to you, my curiosity
had formerly induced me to traverse
in various directions. It was in the
highest degree, rugged, picturesque and
-- 038 --
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
wild. This vale, though I had never
before viewed it by the glimpses of the
moon, suggested the belief that I had
visited it before. Such an one I knew
belonged to this uncultivated region. If
this opinion were true, we were at no
inconsiderable distance from Inglefield's
habitation. Where, said I, is this singular
career to terminate?
Though occupied with these reflections,
I did not slacken my pursuit. The
stranger kept along the verge of the
cliff, which gradually declined till it terminated
in the valley. He then plunged
into its deepest thickets. In a quarter
of an hour he stopped under a projecture
of the rock which formed the opposite
side of the vale. He then proceeded to
remove the stalks, which, as I immediately
perceived, concealed the mouth of
a cavern. He plunged into the darkness,
-- 039 --
[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
and in a few moments, his steps were
heard no more!
Hitherto my courage had supported
me, but here it failed. Was this person
an assassin, who was acquainted with
the windings of the grotto, and who
would take advantage of the dark, to
execute his vengeance upon me, who
had dared to pursue him to these forlorn
retreats; or was he maniac, or walker in
his sleep? Whichever supposition were
true, it would be rash in me to follow
him. Besides, he could not long remain
in these darksome recesses, unless some
fatal accident should overtake him.
I seated myself at the mouth of the
cave, determined patinetly to wait till he
should think proper to emerge. This
opportunity of rest was exceedingly acceptable
after so toilsome a pilgrimage.
My pulse began to beat more slowly, and
-- 040 --
[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]
the moisture that incommoded me ceased
to flow. The coolness which, for a little
time, was delicious, presently increased
to shivering, and I found it necessary to
change my posture, in order to preserve
my blood from congealing.
After I had formed a path before
the cavern's mouth, by the removal of
obstructions, I employed myself in
walking to and fro. In this situation I
saw the moon gradually decline to the
horizon, and, at length, disappear. I
marked the deepenings of the shade,
and the mutations which every object
successively underwent. The vale was
narrow, and hemmed in on all sides by
lofty and precipitous cliffs. The gloom
deepened as the moon declined, and the
faintness of star-light was all that preserved
my senses from being useless to
my own guidance.
-- 041 --
[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]
I drew nearer the cleft at which this
mysterious personage had entered. I
stretched my hands before it, determined
that he should not emerge from his den
without my notice. His steps would,
necessarily, communicate the tidings of
his approach. They could not move
without a noise which would be echoed
to, on all sides, by the abruptnesses by
which this valley was surrounded. Here,
then, I continued till the day began to
dawn, in momentary expectation of the
stranger's reappearance.
My attention was at length excited
by a sound that seemed to issue from
the cave. I imagined that the sleeper
was returning, and prepared therefore to
seize him. I blamed myself for neglecting
the opportunities that had already
been afforded, and was determined that
another should not escape. My eyes
were fixed upon the entrance. The
-- 042 --
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
rustling increased, and presently an animal
leapt forth, of what kind I was unable
to discover. Heart-struck by this
disappointment, but not discouraged, I
continued to watch, but in vain. The day
was advancing apace. At length the
sun arose, and its beams glistened on the
edges of the cliffs above, whose sapless
stalks and rugged masses were covered
with hoar-frost. I began to despair of
success, but was unwilling to depart,
until it was no longer possible to hope
for the return of this extraordinary personage.
Whether he had been swallowed
up by some of the abysses of this
grotto, or lurked near the entrance, waiting
my departure, or had made his exit
at another and distant aperture, was
unknown to me.
Exhausted and discouraged, I prepared,
at length, to return. It was easy
to find my way out of this wilderness by
-- 043 --
[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
going forward in one direction, regardless
of impediments and cross-paths. My
absence I believed to have occasioned no
alarm to my family, since they knew not
of my intention to spend the night
abroad. Thus unsatisfactorily terminated
this night's adventures.
-- 044 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER III.
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
The ensuing day was spent,
partly in sleep, and partly in languor and
disquietude. I incessantly ruminated
on the incidents of the last night. The
scheme that I had formed was defeated.
Was it likely that this unknown person
would repeat his midnight visits to the
Elm? If he did, and could again be discovered,
should I resolve to undertake a
new pursuit, which might terminate abortively,
or in some signal disaster? But
what proof had I that the same rout
would be taken, and that he would again
inter himself alive in the same spot? Or,
-- 045 --
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
if he did, since his reappearance would
sufficiently prove that the cavern was
not dangerous, and that he who should
adventure in, might hope to come out
again in safety, why not enter it after
him? What could be the inducements
of this person to betake himself to subterranean
retreats? The basis of all this
region is limestone; a substance that eminently
abounds in rifts and cavities.
These, by the gradual decay of their
cementing parts, frequently make their
appearance in spots where they might
have been least expected. My attention
has often been excited by the hollow
sound which was produced by my casual
footsteps, and which shewed me that I
trod upon the roof of caverns. A mountain-cave
and the rumbling of an unseen
torrent, are appendages of this scene,
dear to my youthful imagination. Many
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
of romantic structure were found within
the precincts of Nor-walk.
These I had industriously sought out;
but this had hitherto escaped my observation,
and I formed the resolution of
sometime exploring it. At present I
determined to revisit the Elm, and dig
in the spot where this person had been
employed in a similar way. It might
be that something was here deposited
which might exhibit this transaction in a
new light. At the suitable hour, on the
ensuing night, I took my former stand.
The person again appeared. My intention
to dig was to be carried into effect
on condition of his absence, and was, consequently,
frustrated.
Instead of rushing on him, and breaking
at once the spell by which his senses
were bound, I concluded, contrary to my
first design, to wait his departure, and
allow myself to be conducted
-- 047 --
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
whithersoever he pleased. The track into which
he now led me was different from the
former one. It was a maze, oblique,
circuitous, upward and downward, in a
degree which only could take place in a
region so remarkably irregular in surface,
so abounding with hillocks and steeps,
and pits and brooks as Salsbury. It seemed
to be the sole end of his labours to bewilder
or fatigue his pursuer, to pierce
into the deepest thickets, to plunge into
the darkest cavities, to ascend the most
difficult heights, and approach the slippery
and tremulous verge of the dizziest
precipices.
I disdained to be outstripped in this
career. All dangers were overlooked,
and all difficulties defied. I plunged
into obscurities, and clambered over obstacles,
from which, in a different state of
mind, and with a different object of pursuit,
I should have recoiled with
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
invincible timidity. When the scene had
passed, I could not review the perils I
had undergone without shuddering.
At length my conductor struck into
a path which, compared with the ruggedness
of that which we had lately
trodden, was easy and smooth. This
track led us to the skirt of the wilderness,
and at no long time we reached an open
field, when a dwelling appeared, at a
small distance, which I speedily recognized
to be that belonging to Inglefield.
I now anticipated the fulfilment of my
predictions. My conductor directed his
steps towards the barn, into which he
entered by a small door.
How were my doubts removed! This
was no other than Clithero Edny. There
was nothing in his appearance incompatible
with this conclusion. He and his
fellow servant occupied an apartment in
the barn as a lodging room. This
-- 049 --
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
arduous purpose was accomplished, and I
retired to the shelter of a neighbouring
shed, not so much to repose myself after
the fatigues of my extraordinary journey,
as to devise farther expedients.
Nothing now remained but to take
Clithero to task; to repeat to him the
observations of the two last nights; to
unfold to him my conjectures and suspicions;
to convince him of the rectitude of
my intentions, and to extort from him a
disclosure of all the circumstances connected
with the death of Waldegrave,
which it was in his power to communicate.
In order to obtain a conference, I
resolved to invite him to my uncle's to
perform a certain piece of work for me
under my own eyes. He would, of
course, spend the night with us, and in
the evening I would make an
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
opportunity of entering into conversation with
him.
A period of the deepest deliberation
was necessary to qualify myself for performing
suitably my part in this projected
interview. I attended to the feelings
that were suggested in this new
state of my knowledge. I found reason
to confide in my newly acquired equanimity.
Remorse, said I, is an ample and
proper expiation for all offences. What
does vengeance desire but to inflict
misery? If misery come, its desires are
accomplished. It is only the obdurate
and exulting criminal that is worthy of
our indignation. It is common for pity
to succeed the bitterest suggestions of
resentment. If the vengeful mind be
delighted with the spectacle of woes of
its own contriving, at least its canine
hunger is appeased, and thenceforth, its
hands are inactive.
-- 051 --
[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
On the evening of the next day, I
paid a visit to Inglefield. I wished to
impart to him the discoveries that I had
made, and to listen to his reflections on
the subject. I likewise desired to obtain
all possible information from the family
respecting the conduct of Clithero.
My friend received me with his usual
kindness. Thou art no stranger to his
character; thou knowest with what paternal
affection I have ever been regarded
by this old man; with what solicitude
the wanderings of my reason and my
freaks of passion, have been noted and
corrected by him. Thou knowest his
activity to save the life of thy brother,
and the hours that have been spent by
him, in aiding my conjectures as to the
cause of his death, and inculcating the
lessons of penitence and duty.
-- 052 --
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
The topics which could not but occur
at such a meeting, were quickly discussed,
and I hastily proceeded to that
subject which was nearest my heart.
I related the adventures of the two preceding
nights, and mentioned the inference
to which they irresistably led.
He said that this inference coincided
with suspicions he had formed,
since our last interview, in consequence
of certain communications from his
house-keeper. It seems the character
of Clithero, had, from the first, exercised
the inquisitiveness of this old lady. She
had carefully marked his musing and
melancholy deportment. She had tried
innumerable expedients for obtaining a
knowledge of his past life, and particularly
of his motives for coming to America.
These expedients, however profound
and addressful, had failed. He
took no pains to elude them. He
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
contented himself with turning a deaf ear
to all indirect allusions and hints, and,
when more explicitly questioned, with
simply declaring that he had nothing to
communicate worthy of her notice.
During the day he was a sober and
diligent workman. His evenings he
spent in incommunicative silence. On
sundays, he always rambled away, no
one knew whither, and without a companion.
I have already observed that
he and his fellow servant occupied the
same apartment in the barn. This circumstance
was not unattended to by
Miss Inglefield. The name of Clithero's
companion was Ambrose. This man
was copiously interrogated by his mistress,
and she found him by no means
so refractory as the other.
Ambrose, in his tedious and confused
way, related that soon after Clithero and
he had become bed-fellows, the former
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
was considerably disturbed by restlessness
and talking in his sleep. His discourse
was incoherent. It was generally
in the tone of expostulation, and appeared
to be intreating to be saved from some
great injury. Such phrases as these
“have pity; “have mercy,” were frequently
intermingled with groans, and
accompanied with weeping. Sometimes
he seemed to be holding conferences
with some one, who was making him
considerable offers on condition of his
performing some dangerous service.
What he said, in his own person, and
in answer to his imaginary tempter, testified
the utmost reluctance.
Ambrose had no curiosity on the
subject. As this interruption prevented
him at first from sleeping, it was his
custom to put an end to the dialogue, by
awakening his companion, who betrayed
tokens of great alarm and dejection, on
-- 055 --
[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
discovering how he had been employed,
he would solicitously inquire what were
the words that he had uttered; but Ambrose's
report was seldom satisfactory,
because he had attended to them but little,
and because he begrudged every moment
in which he was deprived of his accustomed
repose.
Whether Clithero had ceased from
this practice, or habit had reconciled his
companion to the sounds, they no longer
occasioned any interruption to his slumber.
No one appeared more shocked
than he at the death of Waldegrave,
after this event his dejection suddenly
increased. This symptom was observed
by the family, but none but the house-keeper
took the trouble to notice it to
him, or build conjectures on the incident.
During nights, however, Ambrose
-- 056 --
[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]
experienced a renewal of his ancient disturbances.
He remarked that Clithero, one
night, had disappeared from his side.
Ambrose's range of reflection was extremely
narrow. Quickly falling asleep,
and finding his companion beside him
when he awoke, he dismissed it from
his mind.
On several ensuing nights he awakened
in like manner, and always found
his companion's place empty. The repetition
of so strange an incident at length
incited him to mention it to Clithero.
The latter was confounded at this intelligence.
He questioned Ambrose with
great anxiety as to the particulars of this
event, but he could gain no satisfaction
from the stupid inattention of the other.
From this time there was a visible augmentation
of his sadness. His fits of
taciturnity became more obstinate, and a
deeper gloom sat upon his brow.
-- 057 --
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
There was one other circumstance,
of particular importance, mentioned by
the house-keeper. One evening some
one on horseback, stopped at this gate.
He rattled at the gate, with an air of
authority, in token of his desire that
some one would come from the house.
Miss Inglefield was employed in the
kitchen, from a window of which she
perceived who it was that made the signal.
Clithero happened, at the same
moment, to be employed near her. She,
therefore, desired him to go and see
whom the stranger wanted. He laid
aside his work and went. The conference
lasted above five minutes. The
length of it excited in her a faint degree
of surprise, inducing her to leave her
employment, and pay an unintermitted
attention to the scene. There was
nothing, however, but its duration that
rendered it remarkable.
-- 058 --
[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]
Clithero at length entered, and the
traveller proceeded. The countenance
of the former betrayed a degree of perturbation
which she had never witnessed
before. The muscles of his face was
distorted and tremulous. He immediately
sat down to his work, but he
seemed, for some time, to have lost all
power over his limbs. He struggled to
avoid the sight of the lady, and his gestures,
irresolute, or misdirected, betokened
the deepest dismay. After some
time, he recovered, in some degree, his
self-possession; but, while the object was
viewed through a new medium, and the
change existed only in the imagination
of the observer, a change was certainly
discovered.
These circumstances were related to
me by Inglefield and corroborated by his
house-keeper. One consequence inevitably
flowed from them. The
-- 059 --
[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]
sleepwalker, he who had led me through so
devious a tract, was no other than Clithero.
There was, likewise, a strong
relation between this person and him
who stopped at the gate. What was the
subject of discourse between them? In
answer to Miss Inglefield's interrogatories,
he merely said that the traveller inquired
whither the road led, which at a
small distance forward, struck out of the
principal one. Considering the length of
the interview it was not likely that this
was the only topic.
My determination to confer with him
in private acquired new force from these
reflections. Inglefield assented to my
proposal. His own affairs would permit
the absence of his servant for one day.
I saw no necessity for delay, and immediately
made my request to Clithero. I
was fashioning an implement, I told him,
with respect to which I could not wholly
-- 060 --
[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]
depend upon my own skill. I was acquainted
with the dexterity of his contrivances,
and the neatness of his workmanship.
He readily consented to assist
me on this occasion. Next day he came.
Contrary to my expectation, he prepared
to return home in the evening. I urged
him to spend the night with us; but no:
It was equally convenient, and more
agreeable to him, to return.
I was not aware of this resolution. I
might, indeed, have foreseen, that,
being conscious of his infirmity, he
would desire to avoid the scrutiny of
strangers. I was painfully disconcerted,
but it occurred to me, that the best that
could be done, was to bear him company,
and seize some opportunity, during this
interval, of effecting my purpose. I told
him, that since he would not remain, I
cared not if, for the sake of recreation,
and of a much more momentous
-- 061 --
[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]
purpose, I went along with him. He tacitly,
and without apparent reluctance, consented
to my scheme, and accordingly, we
set off together. This was an awful crisis.
The time had now come, that was
to dissipate my uncertainty. By what
means should I introduce a topic so momentous
and singular? I had been qualified
by no experience for rightly conducting
myself on so critical an emergency.
My companion preserved a
mournful and inviolable silence. He afforded
me no opening, by which I might
reach the point in view. His demeanour
was sedate, while I was almost disabled,
by the confusion of my thoughts, to utter
a word.
It was a dreadful charge that I was
about to insinuate. I was to accuse my
companion of nothing less than murder.
I was to call upon him for an avowal of
his guilt. I was to state the grounds of
-- 062 --
[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]
my suspicions, and desire him to confute,
or confirm them. In doing this, I was
principally stimulated by an ungovernable
curiosity; yet, if I intended not the
conferring of a benefit, I did not, at least,
purpose the infliction of evil. I persuaded
myself, that I was able to exclude
from my bosom, all sanguinary or
vengeful impulses; and that, whatever
should be the issue of this conversation,
my equanimity would be unsubdued.
I revolved various modes of introducing
the topic, by which my mind was
engaged. I passed rapidly from one to
another. None of them were sufficiently
free from objection, to allow me to adopt
it. My perplexity became, every moment,
more painful, and my ability to extricate
myself, less.
In this state of uncertainty, so much
time elapsed, that the Elm at length appeared
in sight. This object had
-- 063 --
[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]
somewhat of a mechanical influence upon me.
I stopped short, and seized the arm of
my companion. Till this moment, he
appeared to have been engrossed by his
own reflections, and not to have heeded
those emotions, which must have been
sufficiently conspicuous in my looks.
This action recalled him from his reverie.
The first idea that occurred to
him, when he had noticed my behaviour,
was, that I was assailed by some sudden
indisposition.
What is the matter, said he, in a tone
of anxiety: Are you not well?
Yes, replied I, perfectly well; but stop
a moment; I have something to say to
you.
To me? Answered he, with surprise.
Yes, said I, let us turn down this
path, pointing at the same time, to that
-- 064 --
[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]
along which I had followed him the preceding
night.
He now partook, in some degree, of
my embarrassment.
Is there any thing particular? said he,
in a doubting accent. There he stopped.
Something, I answered, of the highest
moment. Go with me down this path.
We shall be in less danger of interruption.
He was irresolute and silent, but seeing
me remove the bars and pass through
them, he followed me. Nothing more
was said till we entered the wood. I
trusted to the suggestions of the moment.
I had now gone too far to recede, and the
necessity that pressed upon me, supplied
me with words. I continued.
This is a remarkable spot. You may
wonder why I have led you to it. I ought
not to keep you in suspence. There is a
tale connected with it, which I am
-- 065 --
[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]
desirous of telling you. For this purpose I
have brought you hither. Listen to me.
I then recapitulated the adventures of
the two preceding nights. I added nothing,
nor retrenched any thing. He listened
in the deepest silence. From every incident,
he gathered new cause of alarm.
Repeatedly he wiped his face with his
handkerchief, and sighed deeply. I took
no verbal notice of these symptoms. I
deemed it incumbent on me to repress
nothing. When I came to the concluding
circumstance, by which his person
was identified, he heard me, without any
new surprise. To this narrative, I subjoined
the inquiries that I had made at
Inglefield's, and the result of those inquiries.
I then continued in these words.
You may ask why I subjected myself
to all this trouble? The mysteriousness
of these transactions would have naturally
suggested curiosity in any one. A
-- 066 --
[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]
transient passenger would probably have
acted as I have done. But I had motives
peculiar to my self. Need I remind you of
a late disaster? That it happened beneath
the shade of this tree? Am I not
justified in drawing certain inferences
from your behaviour? What they are,
I leave you to judge. Be it your task,
to confute, or confirm them. For this
end I have conducted you hither.
My suspicions are vehement. How
can they be otherwise? I call upon you
to say whether they be just.
The spot where we stood was illuminated
by the moon, that had now risen,
though all around was dark. Hence his
features and person were easily distinguished.
His hands hung at his side.
His eyes were downcast, and he was motionless
as a statue. My last words
seemed scarcely to have made any impression
on his sense. I had no need to
-- 067 --
[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]
provide against the possible suggestions
of revenge. I felt nothing but the tenderness
of compassion. I continued, for
some time, to observe him in silence,
and could discover no tokens of a change
of mood. I could not forbear, at last, to
express my uneasiness at the fixedness of
his features and attitude.
Recollect yourself. I mean not to
urge you too closely. This topic is solemn,
but it need not divest you of the
fortitude becoming a man.
The sound of my voice startled him.
He broke from me, looked up, and fixed
his eyes upon me with an expression of
affright. He shuddered and recoiled
as from a spectre. I began to repent of
my experiment. I could say nothing suitable
to this occasion. I was obliged to
stand a silent and powerless spectator,
and to suffer this paroxysm to subside of
-- 068 --
[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]
itself. When its violence appeared to be
somewhat abated, I resumed.
I can feel for you. I act not thus, in
compliance with a temper that delights
in the misery of others. The explanation
that I have solicited is no less necessary
for your sake than for mine. You are no
stranger to the light in which I viewed
this man. You have witnessed the grief
which his fate occasioned, and the efforts
that I made to discover, and drag to punishment
his murderer. You heard the
execrations that I heaped upon him, and
my vows of eternal revenge. You expect
that, having detected the offender, I will
hunt him to infamy and death. You are
mistaken. I consider the deed as sufficiently
expiated.
I am no stranger to your gnawing
cares. To the deep and incurable despair
that haunts you, to which your waking
thoughts are a prey, and from which
-- 069 --
[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]
sleep cannot secure you. I know the
enormity of your crime, but I know not
your inducements. Whatever they were,
I see the consequences with regard to
yourself. I see proofs of that remorse
which must ever be attendant on guilt.
This is enough. Why should the effects
of our misdeeds be inexhaustible? Why
should we be debarred from a comforter?
An opportunity of repairing our
errors may, at least, be demanded from
the rulers of our destiny.
I once imagined, that he who killed
Waldegrave inflicted the greatest possible
injury on me. That was an error, which
reflection has cured. Were futurity laid
open to my view, and events, with their
consequences unfolded; I might see
reason to embrace the assassin as my
best friend. Be comforted.
He was still incapable of speaking;
but tears came to his relief. Without
-- 070 --
[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]
attending to my remonstrances, he betrayed
a disposition to return. I had, hitherto,
hoped for some disclosure, but now feared
that it was designed to be withheld.
He stopped not till we reached Inglefield's
piazza. He then spoke, for the first time,
but in an hollow and tremulous voice.
You demand of me a confession of
crimes. You shall have it. Some time
you shall have it. When it will be, I cannot
tell. Something must be done, and
shortly.
He hurried from me into the house,
and after a pause, I turned my steps homewards.
My reflections, as I proceeded,
perpetually revolved round a single point.
These were scarcely more than a repetitition,
with slight variations, of a single
idea.
When I awoke in the morning, I hied,
in fancy, to the wilderness. I saw nothing
but the figure of the wanderer
-- 071 --
[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]
before me. I traced his footsteps anew,
retold my narrative, and pondered on his
gestures and words. My condition was
not destitute of enjoyment. My stormy
passions had subsided into a calm, portentous
and awful. My soul was big with
expectation. I seemed as if I were on
the eve of being ushered into a world,
whose scenes were tremendous, but sublime.
The suggestions of sorrow and
malice had, for a time, taken their flight,
and yielded place to a generous sympathy,
which filled my eyes with tears, but
had more in it of pleasure than of pain.
That Clithero was instrumental to the
death of Waldegrave, that he could furnish
the clue, explanatory of every
bloody and mysterious event, that had
hitherto occurred, there was no longer
the possibility of doubting. He, indeed,
said I, is the murderer of excellence,
and yet it shall be my province to
-- 072 --
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
emulate a father's clemency, and restore this
unhappy man to purity, and to peace.
Day after day passed, without hearing
any thing of Clithero. I began to
grow uneasy and impatient. I had gained
so much, and by means so unexpected,
that I could more easily endure uncertainly,
with respect to what remained
to be known. But my patience had its
limits. I should, doubtless, have made
use of new means to accelerate this discovery,
had not his timely appearance
made them superfluous.
Sunday being at length arrived, I resolved
to go to Inglefield's, seek an interview
with his servant, and urge him, by
new importunities, to confide to me the
secret. On my way thither, Clithero appeared
in sight. His visage was pale and
wan, and his form emaciated and shrunk.
I was astonished at the alteration, which
the lapse of a week had made in his
-- 073 --
[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
appearance. At a small distance I mistook
him for a stranger. As soon as I perceived
who it was, I greeted him with the
utmost friendliness. My civilities made
little impression on him, and he hastened
to inform me, that he was coming to my
uncle's, for the purpose of meeting and
talking with me. If I thought proper, we
would go into the wood together: and
find some spot, where we might discourse
at our leisure, and be exempt from interruption.
You will easily conceive with what
alacrity I accepted his invitation. We
turned from the road into the first path,
and proceeded in silence, till the wildness
of the surrounding scenery informed us,
that we were in the heart of Nor-walk.
We lighted on a recess, to which my companion
appeared to be familiar, and
which had all the advantages of solitude,
and was suitable to rest. Here we
-- 074 --
[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
stopped. Hitherto my companion had displayed
a certain degree of composure.
Now his countenance betokened a violent
internal struggle. It was a considerable
time before he could command his
speech. When he had so far effected
the conquest of his feelings, he began.
-- 075 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER IV.
[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]
You call upon me for a confession
of my offences. What a strange
fortune is mine! That an human being,
in the present circumstances, should
make this demand, and that I should be
driven, by an irresistable necessity to
comply with it! That here should terminate
my calamitous series! That my
destiny should call upon me to lie down
and die, in a region so remote from the
scene of my crimes; at a distance, so
great, from all that witnessed and endured
their consequences!
-- 076 --
[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]
You believe me to be an assassin.
You require me to explain the motives
that induced me to murder the innocent.
While this is your belief, and this the
scope of your expectations, you may be
sure of my compliance. I could resist
every demand but this.
For what purpose have I come hither?
Is it to relate my story? Shall I calmly
sit here, and rehearse the incidents of
my life? Will my strength be adequate
to this rehearsal? Let me recollect the
motives that governed me, when I formed
this design. Perhaps, a strenuousness
may be imparted by them, which, otherwise,
I cannot hope to obtain. For the
sake of those, I consent to conjure up the
ghost of the past, and to begin a tale that,
with a fortitude like mine, I am not sure
that I shall live to finish.
You are unacquainted with the man
before you. The inferences which you
-- 077 --
[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]
have drawn, with regard to my designs,
and my conduct, are a tissue of destructive
errors. You, like others, are blind
to the most momentous consequences
of your own actions. You talk of imparting
consolation. You boast the benificence
of your intentions. You set yourself
to do me a benefit. What are the
effects of your misguided zeal, and random
efforts? They have brought my
life to a miserable close. They have
shrouded the last scene of it in blood.
They have put the seal to my perdition.
My misery has been greater than
has fallen to the lot of mortals. Yet
it is but beginning. My present path,
full as it is of asperities, is better
than that into which I must enter, when
this is abandoned. Perhaps, if my pilgrimage
had been longer, I might, at some
future day, have lighted upon hope. In
consequence of your interference, I am
-- 078 --
[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]
forever debarred from it. My existence
is henceforward to be invariable. The
woes that are reserved for me, are incapable
alike of alleviation or intermission.
But I came not hither to recriminate.
I came not hither to accuse others but
myself. I know the retribution that is
appointed for guilt like mine. It is just.
I may shudder at the foresight of my
punishment and shrink in the endurance
of it; but I shall be indebted for part of
my torment to the vigour of my understanding,
which teaches me that my punishment
is just. Why should I procrastinate
my doom and strive to render my
burthen more light. It is but just that
it should crush me. Its procrastination
is impossible. The stroke is already felt.
Even now I drink of the cup of retribution.
A change of being cannot agravate
my woe. Till consciousness itself
-- 079 --
[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]
be extinct, the worm that gnaws me will
never perish.
Fain would I be relieved from this
task. Gladly would I bury in oblivion
the transactions of my life: but no. My
fate is uniform. The dæmon that controuled
me at first is still in the fruition
of power. I am entangled in his fold,
and every effort that I make to escape
only involves me in deeper ruin. I need
not conceal, for all the consequences of
disclosure are already experienced. I
cannot endure a groundless imputation,
though to free me from it, I must create
and justify imputations still more atrocious.
My story may at least be brief.
If the agonies of remembrance must be
awakened afresh, let me do all that in me
lies to shorten them.
I was born in the county of Armagh.
My parents were of the better sort of
-- 080 --
[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]
peasants, and were able to provide me
with the rudiments of knowledge. I
should doubtless have trodden in their
footsteps, and have spent my life in the
cultivation of their scanty fields, if an
event had not happened, which, for a long
time, I regarded as the most fortunate of
my life; but which I now regard as the
scheme of some infernal agent and as the
primary source of all my calamities.
My father's farm was a portion of the
demesne of one who resided wholly in
the metropolis, and consigned the management
of his estates to his stewards
and retainers. This person married a
lady, who brought him great accession
of fortune. Her wealth was her only
recommendation in the eyes of her husband,
whose understanding was depraved
by the prejudices of luxury and rank,
but was the least of her attractions in
the estimate of reasonable beings.
-- 081 --
[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]
They passed some years together.
If their union were not a source of misery
to the lady, she was indebted for her
tranquility to the force of her mind. She
was, indeed, governed, in every action
of her life by the precepts of duty, while
her husband listened to no calls but those
of pernicious dissipation. He was immersed
in all the vices that grow out of
opulence and a mistaken education.
Happily for his wife his career was
short. He was enraged at the infidelity
of his mistress, to purchase whose attachment,
he had lavished two thirds of his
fortune. He called the paramour, by
whom he had been supplanted, to the
field. The contest was obstinate, and
terminated in the death of the challenger.
This event freed the lady from many
distressful and humiliating obligations.
She determined to profit by her newly
acquired independence, to live
-- 082 --
[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]
thence-forward conformable to her notions of
right, to preserve and improve, by
schemes of economy, the remains of
her fortune, and to employ it in the diffusion
of good. Her plans made it necessary
to visit her estates in the distant
provinces.
During her abode in the manor of
which my father was a vassal, she visited
his cottage. I was at that time a child.
She was pleased with my vivacity and
promptitude, and determined to take me
under her own protection. My parents
joyfully acceded to her proposal, and
I returned with her to the capital.
She had an only son of my own age.
Her design, in relation to me, was, that
I should be educated with her child, and
that an affection, in this way, might be
excited in me towards my young master,
which might render me, when we should
attain to manhood, one of his most faithful
-- 083 --
[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]
and intelligent dependents. I enjoyed,
equally with him, all the essential benefits
of education. There were certain
accomplishments, from which I was excluded,
from the belief that they were
unsuitable to my rank and station. I was
permitted to acquire others, which, had
she been actuated by true discernment, she
would, perhaps, have discovered to be
far more incompatible with a servile station.
In proportion as my views were
refined and enlarged by history and science,
I was likely to contract a thirst of
independence, and an impatience of subjection
and poverty.
When the period of childhood and
youth was past, it was thought proper
to send her son, to improve his knowledge
and manners, by a residence on the continent.
This young man was endowed
with splendid abilities. His errors were
the growth of his condition. All the
-- 084 --
[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]
expedients that maternal solicitude and
wisdom could suggest, were employed
to render him an useful citizen. Perhaps
this wisdom was attested by the large
share of excellence which he really possessed;
and, that his character was not
unblemished, proved only, that no exertions
could preserve him from the vices
that are inherent in wealth and rank,
and which flow from the spectacle of universal
depravity.
As to me, it would be folly to deny,
that I had benefited by my opportunities
of improvement. I fulfilled the expectation
of my mistress, in one respect. I
was deeply imbued with affection for her
son, and reverence for herself. Perhaps
the force of education was evinced in
those particulars, without reflecting any
credit on the directors of it. Those might
merit the name of defects, which were
regarded by them as accomplishments.
-- 085 --
[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]
My unfavorable qualities, like those of
my master, were imputed to my condition,
though, perhaps, the difference
was advantageous to me, since the vices
of servitude are less hateful than those
of tyranny.
It was resolved that I should accompany
my master in his travels, in quality
of favourite domestic. My principles,
whatever might be their rectitude, were
harmonious and flexible. I had devoted
my life to the service of my patron. I
had formed conceptions of what was really
conducive to his interest, and was not to
be misled by specious appearances. If
my affection had not stimulated my diligence,
I should have found sufficient
motives in the behaviour of his mother.
She condescended to express her reliance
on my integrity and judgment. She was
not ashamed to manifest, at parting, the
tenderness of a mother, and to
-- 086 --
[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]
acknowledge that, all her tears were not shed
on her son's account. I had my part in
the regrets that called them forth.
During our absence, I was my master's
constant attendent. I corresponded
with his mother, and made the conduct
of her son the principal theme of my letters.
I deemed it my privilege, as well
as duty, to sit in judgment on his actions,
to form my opinions without regard
to selfish considerations, and to
avow them whenever the avowal tended
to benefit. Every letter which I
wrote, particularly those in which his
behaviour was freely criticised, I allowed
him to peruse. I would, on no account,
connive at, or participate in the slightest
irregularity. I knew the duty of my
station, and assumed no other controul
than that which resulted from the avoiding
of deceit, and the open expression of
my sentiments. The youth was of a
-- 087 --
[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]
noble spirit, but his firmness was wavering.
He yielded to temptations which a censor
less rigorous than I would have regarded
as venial, or, perhaps laudable.
My duty required me to set before him
the consequences of his actions, and to
give impartial and timely information to
his mother.
He could not brook a monitor. The
more he needed reproof, the less supportable
it became. My company became
every day less agreeable, till at length,
there appeared a necessity of parting.
A seperation took place, but not as enemies.
I never lost his respect. In his
representations to his mother, he was
just to my character and services. My
dismission was not allowed to injure my
fortune, and his mother considered this
event merely as a new proof of the inflexible
consistency of my principles.
-- 088 --
[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]
On this change in my situation, she
proposed to me to become a member of
her own family. No proposal could be
more acceptable. I was fully acquainted
with the character of this lady, and had
nothing to fear from injustice and caprice.
I did not regard her with filial familiarity,
but my attachment and reverence would
have done honour to that relation. I
performed for her the functions of a
steward. Her estates in the city were
put under my direction. She placed
boundless confidence in my discretion
and integrity, and consigned to me the
payment, and in some degree, the selection
and government of her servants.
My station was a servile one, yet
most of the evils of servitude were unknown
to me. My personal ease and
independence were less infringed than
that of those who are accounted the freeest
members of society. I derived a
-- 089 --
[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]
sort of authority and dignity from the
receipt and disbursement of money.
The tenants and debtors of the lady
were, in some respects, mine. It was,
for the most part, on my justice and lenity
that they depended for their treatment.
My lady's household establishment
was large and opulent. Her servants were
my inferiors and menials. My leisure
was considerable, and my emoluments
large enough to supply me with every
valuable instrument of improvement or
pleasure.
These were reasons why I should
be contented with my lot. These circumstances
alone would have rendered
it more eligible than any other, but it
had additional, and far more powerful
recommendations, arising from the character
of Mrs. Lorimer, and from the relation
in which she allowed me to stand
to her.
-- 090 --
[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]
How shall I enter upon this theme?
How shall I expatiate upon excellencies,
which it was my fate to view in their
genuine colours, to adore with an immeasurable
and inextinguishable ardour,
and which, nevertheless, it was my
hateful task to blast and destroy? Yet
I will not be spared. I shall find in the
rehearsal, new incitements to sorrow.
I deserve to be supreme in misery, and
will not be denied the full measure of a
bitter retribution.
No one was better qualified to judge
of her excellencies. A casual spectator
might admire her beauty, and the dignity
of her demeanour. From the contemplation
of those, he might gather
motives for loving or revering her.
Age was far from having withered her
complexion, or destroyed the evenness
of her skin; but no time could rob her
of the sweetness and intelligence which
-- 091 --
[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]
animated her features. Her habitual
beneficence was bespoken in every look.
Always in search of occasions for doing
good, always meditating scenes of happiness,
of which she was the author, or
of distress, for which she was preparing
relief, the most torpid insensibility was,
for a time, subdued, and the most depraved
smitten by charms, of which, in
another person, they would not perhaps
have been sensible.
A casual visitant might enjoy her
conversation, might applaud the rectitude
of her sentiments, the richness of
her elocution, and her skill in all the
offices of politeness. But it was only
for him, who dwelt constantly under
the same roof, to mark the inviolable
consistency of her actions and opinions,
the ceaseless flow of her candour, her
cheerfulness, and her benevolence. It
-- 092 --
[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]
was only for one who witnessed her behaviour
at all hours, in sickness and in
health, her management of that great
instrument of evil and good, money, her
treatment of her son, her menials, and
her kindred, rightly to estimate her merits.
The intercourse between us was
frequent, but of a peculiar kind. My
office in her family required me often
to see her, to submit schemes to her
consideration, and receive her directions.
At these times she treated me in a manner,
in some degree, adapted to the difference
of rank, and the inferiority of
my station, and yet widely dissimilar
from that, which a different person
would have adopted, in the same circumstances.
The treatment was not that of
an equal and a friend, but still more remote
was it from that of a mistress. It
was merely characterised by affability
-- 093 --
[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
and condescention, but as such it had
no limits.
She made no scruple to ask my
council in every pecuniary affair, to
listen to my arguments, and decide conformably
to what, after sufficient canvassings
and discussions, should appear
to be right. When the direct occasions of
our interview were dismissed, I did not of
course withdraw. To detain or dismiss
me was indeed at her option, but, if no
engagement interfered, she would enter
into general conversation. There was
none who could with more safety to herself
have made the world her confessor;
but the state of society in which she
lived, imposed certain limitations on her
candour. In her intercourse with me
there were fewer restraints than on any
other occasion. My situation had made
me more intimately acquainted with domestic
transactions, with her views
-- 094 --
[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]
respecting her son, and with the terms on
which she thought proper to stand with
those whom old acquaintance or kindred
gave some title to her good offices. In
addition to all those motives to a candid
treatment of me, there were others
which owed their efficacy to her maternal
regard for me, and to the artless
and unsuspecting generosity of her character.
Her hours were distributed with the
utmost regularity, and appropriated to
the best purposes. She selected her
society without regard to any qualities
but probity and talents. Her associates
were numerous, and her evening conversations
embellished with all that
could charm the senses or instruct the
understanding. This was a chosen field
for the display of her magnificence, but
her grandeur was unostentatious, and
her gravity unmingled with hautiness.
-- 095 --
[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]
From these my station excluded me, but
I was compensated by the freedom of
her communications in the intervals.
She found pleasure in detailing to me
the incidents that passed on those occasions,
in rehearsing conversations and
depicting characters. There was an
uncommon portion of dramatic merit in
her recitals, besides valuable and curious
information. One uniform effect
was produced in me by this behaviour.
Each day, I thought it impossible for
my attachment to receive any new accessions,
yet the morrow was sure to produce
some new emotion of respect or of
gratitude, and to set the unrivalled accomplishments
of this lady in a new and
more favourable point of view. I contemplated
no change in my condition.
The necessity of change, whatever were
the alternative, would have been a subject
of piercing regret. I deemed my
-- 096 --
[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
life a cheap sacrifice in her cause. No
time would suffice to discharge the debt
of gratitude that was due to her. Yet
it was continually accumulating. If an
anxious thought ever invaded my bosom
it arose from this source.
It was no difficult task faithfully to
execute the functions assigned to me.
No merit could accrue to me from this
source. I was exposed to no temptation.
I had passed the feverish period of
youth. No contagious example had
contaminated my principles. I had resisted
the allurements of sensuality and
dissipation incident to my age. My
dwelling was in pomp and splendour.
I had amassed sufficient to secure me,
in case of unforeseen accidents, in the
enjoyment of competence. My mental
resources were not despicable, and the
external means of intellectual gratification
were boundless, I enjoyed an
-- 097 --
[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]
unsullied reputation. My character was
well known in that sphere which my
lady occupied, not only by means of her
favourable report, but in numberless
ways in which it was my fortune to perform
personal services to others.
-- 098 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER V.
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
Mrs. lorimer had a twin
brother. Nature had impressed the
same image upon them, and had modelled
them after the same pattern. The
resemblance between them was exact to
a degree almost incredible. In infancy
and childhood they were perpetually
liable to be mistaken for each other. As
they grew up nothing to a superficial
examination appeared to distinguish them
but the sexual characteristics. A sagacious
observer would, doubtless, have
noted the most essential differences. In
all those modifications of the features
-- 099 --
[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]
which are produced by habits and sentiments,
no two persons were less alike.
Nature seemed to have intended them
as examples of the futility of those theories,
which ascribe every thing to conformation
and instinct, and nothing to
external circumstances; in what different
modes the same materials may be
fashioned, and to what different purposes
the same materials may be applied.
Perhaps the rudiments of their intellec
tual character as well as of their form,
were the same; but the powers, that in
one case, were exerted in the cause of
virtue, were, in the other, misapplied to
sordid and flagitious purposes.
Arthur Wiatte, that was his name,
had ever been the object of his sister's
affection. As long as he existed she
never ceased to labour in the promotion
of his happiness. All her kindness
-- 100 --
[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]
was repaid by a stern and inexorable
hatred. This man was an exception to
all the rules which govern us in our
judgments of human nature. He exceeded
in depravity all that has been
imputed to the arch-foe of mankind. His
wickedness was without any of those
remorseful intermissions from which it
has been supposed that the deepest guilt
is not entirely exempt. He seemed to
relish no food but pure unadulterated
evil. He rejoiced in proportion to the
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 being acquainted
with the means of influencing her happiness,
he could try his malignant experiments
with most hope of success. Her
parents being high in rank and wealth,
-- 101 --
[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]
the marriage of their daughter was, of
course, an object of anxious attention.
There is no event on which our felicity
and usefulness more materially depends,
and with regard to which, therefore, the
freedom of choice and the exercise of
our own understanding ought to be less
infringed, but this maxim is commonly
disregarded in proportion to the elevation
of our rank and extent of our property.
The lady made her own election, but
she was one of those who acted on a comprehensive
plan, and would not admit
her private inclination to dictate her
decision. Her happiness of others,
though founded on mistaken views, she
did not consider as unworthy of her regard.
The choice was such as was not
likely to obtain the parental sanction, to
whom the moral qualities of their son-in-law,
though not absolutely weightless in
-- 102 --
[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]
the balance, were greatly inferior to the
considerations of 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 different conception
of happiness from himself. Love and
friendship he considered as groundless
and chimerical, and believed that those
delusions, would, in people of sense, be
rectified by experience; but he knew the
obstinacy of his sister's attachment to
these phantoms, and that to bereave her
of the good they promised was the most
effectual means of rendering her miserable.
For this end he set himself to thwart
her wishes. In the imbecility and false
indulgence of his parents he found his
most powerful auxiliaries. He prevailed
upon them to forbid that union which
wanted nothing but their concurrence,
and their consent to endow her with a
-- 103 --
[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]
small portion of their patrimony to render
completely eligible. The cause was
that of her happiness and the happiness
of him on whom she had bestowed her
heart. It behoved her, therefore, to call
forth all her energies in defence of it, to
weaken her brother's influence 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 should seem to flow from the circumstance
of pleading in the character
of daughter and sister, I can scarcely
believe that her attempts miscarried. I
should have imagined that all obstacles
would yield before her, and particularly
in a case like this, in which she must
have summoned all her forces, and never
have believed that she had struggled
sufficiently.
-- 104 --
[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]
Certain it is that her lot was fixed.
She was not only denied the husband of
her choice, but another was imposed upon
her, whose recommendations were
irresistible in every one's apprehension
but her own. 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 iniquities produced no considerable
effect on the mind of the lady. The
machinations to which her love was exposed,
would have exasperated him into
madness, had not her most strenuous
exertions been directed to appease him.
She prevailed on him at length to
abandon his country, though she thereby
merely turned her brother's depravity
into a new channel. Her parents died
without conciousness of the evils they
inflicted, but they experienced a bitter
-- 105 --
[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]
retribution in the conduct of their son.
He was the darling and stay of an ancient
and illustrious house, but his actions
reflected nothing but disgrace upon his
ancestry, and threatened to bring the
honours of their line to a period in his
person. At their death the bulk of their
patrimony devolved upon him. This he
speedily consumeed in gaming and riot.
From splendid, he descended to meaner
vices. The efforts of his sister to recall
him to virtue were unintermitted and
fruitless. Her affection for him he converted
into a means of prolonging his
selfish gratifications. She decided for
the best. It was no argument of weakness
that she was so frequently deceived.
If she had judged truly of her brother,
she would have judged not only without
example, but in opposition to the general
experience of mankind. But she was not
to be forever deceived. Her tenderness
-- 106 --
[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]
was subservient to justice. And when
his vices had led him from the gaming
table to the higway, when seized at length
by the ministers of law, when convicted
and sentenced to transportation, her
intercession was solicited, when all the
world knew that pardon would readily be
granted to a supplicant of her rank,
fortune, and character, when the criminal
himself, his kindred, his friends, and even
indifferent persons implored her interference,
her justice was inflexible: She
knew full well the incurableness of his
depravity; that banishment was the
mildest destiny that would befall him;
that estrangement from ancient haunts
and associates was the condition from
which his true friends had least to fear.
Finding intreaties unavailing, the
wretch delivered himself to the suggestions
of his malice, and he vowed to be
bloodily revenged on her inflexibility.
-- 107 --
[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]
The sentence was executed. That
character must indeed be monstrous
from which the execution of such threats
was to be dreaded. The event sufficiently
shewed that our fears on this head
were well grounded. This event, however,
was at a great distance. It was reported
that the fellons, of whom he was one,
mutinied on board the ship in which they
had been embarked. In the affray that
succeeded it was said that he was killed.
Among the nefarious deeds which he
perpetrated was to be numbered the
seduction of a young lady, whose heart
was broken by the detection of his perfidy.
The fruit of this unhappy union was a
daughter. Her mother died shortly after
her birth. Her father was careless of her
destiny. She was consigned to the care
of an hireling, who, happily for the innocent
victim, performed the maternal
offices for her own sake, and did not allow
-- 108 --
[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]
the want of a stipulated recompence to
render her cruel or neglectful.
This orphan was sought out by the
benevolence of Mrs. Lorimer and placed
under her own protection. She received
from her the treatment of a mother. The
ties of kindred, corroborated by habit,
was not the only thing that united them.
That resemblance to herself, which had
been so deplorably defective in her brother,
was completely realized in his
offspring. Nature seemed to have precluded
every difference between them but
that of age. This darling object excited
in her bosom more than maternal sympathies.
Her soul clung to the happiness of
her Clarice, with more ardour than to that
of her own son. The latter was not only
less worthy of affection, but their separation
necessarily diminished their mutual
confidence.
-- 109 --
[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]
It was natural for her to look forward
to the future destiny of Clarice. On
these occasions she could not help contemplating
the possibility of a union
between her son and niece. Considerable
advantages belonged to this scheme, yet
it was the subject of hope rather than
the scope of a project. The contingencies
were numerous and delicate on which
the ultimate desirableness of this union
depended. She was far from certain that
her son would be worthy of this benefit,
or that, if he were worthy, his propensities
would not select for themselves a
different object. It was equally dubious
whether the young lady would not think
proper otherwise to dispose of her affections.
These uncertainties could be
dissipated only by time. Meanwhile she
was chiefly solicitous to render them
virtuous and wise.
-- 110 --
[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]
As they advanced in years, the hopes
that she had formed were annihilated.
The youth was not exempt from egregious
errors. In addition to this, it was
manifest that the young people were disposed
to regard each other in no other
light than that of brother and sister. I
was not unapprised of her views. I saw
that their union was impossible. I was
near enough to judge of the character
of Clarice. My youth and intellectual
constitution made me peculiarly susceptible
to female charms. I was her play-fellow
in childhood, and her associate in
studies and amusements at a maturer
age. This situation might have been
suspected of a dangerous tendency. This
tendency, however, was obviated by motives
of which I was, for a long time,
scarcely conscious.
I was habituated to consider the distinctions
of rank as indellible. The
-- 111 --
[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]
obstructions that existed, to any wish that
I might form, were like those of time and
space, and as, in their own nature, insuperable.
Such was the state of things previous
to our setting out upon our travels.
Clarice was indirectly included in our
correspondence. My letters were open
to her inspection, and I was sometimes
honoured with a few complimentary lines
under her own hand. On returning to
my ancient abode, I was once more exposed
to those sinister influences which
absence had, at least, suspended. Various
suitors had, meanwhile, been rejected.
Their character, for the most part, had
been such as to account for her refusal,
without resorting to the supposition of a
lurking or unavowed attachment.
On our meeting she greeted me in a
respectful but dignified manner.
-- 112 --
[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]
Observers could discover in it nothing not corresponding
to that difference of fortune
which subsisted between us. If her joy,
on that occasion, had in it some portion of
tenderness, the softness of her temper,
and the peculiar circumstances in which
we had been placed, being considered,
the most rigid censor could find no occasion
for blame or suspicion.
A year passed away, but not without
my attention being solicited by something
new and inexplicable in my own sensations.
At first I was not aware of their
true cause; but the gradual progress of
my feelings left me 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
be extinguished the moment that I distinctly
perceived the point to which they
led. My mind had undergone a change.
The ideas with which it was fraught were
-- 113 --
[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]
varied. The sight, or recollection of
Clarice, was sure to occasion my mind to
advert to the recent discovery, and to
revolve the considerations naturally connected
with it. Some latent glows and
secret trepidations were likewise experienced,
when, by some accident, our
meetings were abrupt or our interviews
unwitnessed; yet my usual tranquility
was not as yet sensibly diminished. I
could bear to think of her marriage with
another without painful emotions, and
was anxious only that her choice should
be judicious and fortunate.
My thoughts could not long continue
in this state. They gradually became
more ardent and museful. The image
of Clarice occurred with unseasonable
frequency. Its charms were enhanced
by some nameless and indefinable additions.
When it met me in the way I was
irresistibly disposed to stop and survey it
-- 114 --
[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]
with particular attention. The pathetic
cast of her features, the deep glow of her
cheek, and some catch of melting music,
she had lately breathed, stole incessantly
upon my fancy. On recovering from my
thoughtful moods, I sometimes found my
cheeks wet with tears, that had fallen
unperceived, and my bosom heaved
with involuntary sighs.
These images did not content themselves
with invading my wakeful hours;
but, likewise, incroached upon my sleep.
I could no longer resign myself to slumber
with the same ease as before. When
I slept, my visions were of the same
impassioned tenor.
There was no difficulty in judging
rightly of my situation. I knew what it
was that duty exacted from me. To remain
in my present situation was a
chimerical project. That time and reflection
would suffice to restore me to
-- 115 --
[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]
myself was a notion equally falacious.
Yet I felt an insupportable reluctance to
change it. This reluctance was owing,
not wholly or chiefly to my growing
passion, but to the attachment which
bound me to the service of my lady. All
my contemplations had hitherto been modelled
on the belief of my remaining in
my present situation during my life. My
mildest anticipations had never fashioned
an event like this. Any misfortune was
light in comparison with that which tore
me from her presence and service. But
should I ultimately resolve to separate,
how should I communicate my purpose.
The pain of parting would scarcely be
less on her side than on mine. Could I
consent to be the author of disquietude to
her? I had consecrated all my faculties
to her service. This was the recompence
which it was in my power to make
-- 116 --
[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]
for the benefits that I had received.
Would not this procedure bear the appearance
of the basest ingratitude? The
shaddow of an imputation like this 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 would more become
me to lessen than increase my
obligations. Among all my imaginations
on this subject, the possibility of a
mutual passion never occurred to me.
I could not be blind to the essential distinctions
that subsist among men. I could
expatiate, like others, on the futility of
ribbonds and titles, and on the dignity
that was annexed to skill and virtue; but
these, for the most part, were the incoherences
of speculation, and in no degree
influenced the stream of my actions, and
practical sentiments. The barrier that
-- 117 --
[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]
existed in the present case, I deemed
insurmountable. This was not even
the subject of doubt. In disclosing the
truth, I should be conceived to be soliciting
my lady's mercy and intercession;
but this would be the madness of presumption.
Let me impress her with any
other opinion than that I go in search of
the happiness that I have lost under her
roof. Let me save her generous heart
from the pangs which this persuasion
would infallibly produce.
I could form no stable resolutions.
I seemed unalterably convinced of the
necessity of separation, and yet could
not execute my design. When I had
wrought up my mind to the intention of
explaining myself on the next interview,
when the next interview took place my
tongue was powerless. I admitted any
excuse for postponing my design, and
-- 118 --
[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]
gladly admitted any topic, however
foreign to my purpose.
It must not be imagined that my
health sustained no injury from this
conflict of my passions. My patroness
perceived this alteration. She inquired
with the most affectionate solicitude, into
the cause. It could not be explained.
I could safely make light of it, and represented
it as something which would
probably disappear of itself, as it originated
without any adequate cause. She
was obliged to acquiesce in my imperfect
account.
Day after day passed in this state of
fluctuation. I was conscious of the dangers
of delay, and that procrastination,
without rendering the task less necessary,
augmented its difficulties. At
length, summoning my resolution, I
demanded an audience. She received
me with her usual affability. Common
-- 119 --
[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]
topics were started; but she saw the confusion
and trepidation of my thoughts,
and quickly relinquished them. She
then noticed to me what she had observed,
and mentioned the anxiety which
these appearances had given her. She
reminded me of the maternal regard
which she had always manifested towards
me, and appealed to my own
heart whether any thing could be said in
vindication of that reserve with which I
had lately treated her, and urged me as I
valued her good opinion, to explain the
cause of a dejection that was too visible.
To all this I could make but one
answer: Think me not, Madam, perverse
or ungrateful. I came just now to apprise
you of a resolution that I had formed.
I cannot explain the motives that induce
me. In this case, to lie to you would be
unpardonable, and since I cannot assign
my true motives, I will not mislead
-- 120 --
[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]
you by false representations. I came to
inform you of my intention to leave your
service, and to retire with the fruits of
your bounty, to my native village, where
I shall spend my life, I hope, in peace.
Her surprise at this declaration was
beyond measure. She could not believe
her ears. She had not heard me
rightly. She compelled me to repeat it.
Sill I was jesting. I could not possibly
mean what my words imported.
I assured her, in terms still more explicit,
that my resolution was taken and
was unalterable, and again intreated her
to spare me the task of assigning my motives.
This was a strange determination.
What could be the grounds of this new
scheme? What could be the necessity
of hiding them from her? This mystery
was not to be endured. She could by no
means away with it. She thought it
-- 121 --
[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]
hard that I should abandon her at this
time, when she stood in particular need
of my assistance and advice. She would
refuse nothing to make my situation eligible.
I had only to point out where
she was deficient 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 be informed of my
motives.
It is an hard task, answered I, that
I have imposed upon myself. I foresaw
its difficulties, and this foresight has
hitherto prevented me from undertaking
it; but the necessity by which I am impelled,
will no longer be withstood. I
am determined to go; but to say why, is
impossible. I hope I shall not bring
upon myself the imputation of ingratitude;
but this imputation, more
-- 122 --
[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]
intolerable than any other, must be borne, if it
cannot be avoided but by this disclosure.
Keep your motives to yourself, said
she. I have too good an opinion of you
to suppose that you would practice concealment
without good reason. I merely
desire you to remain where you are.
Since you will not tell me why you take
up this new scheme, I can only say
that it is impossible there should be any
advantage in this scheme. I will not
hear of it I tell you. Therefore, submit
to my decree with a good grace.
Notwithstanding this prohibition I
persisted in declaring that my determination
was fixed, and that the motives
that governed me would allow of no
alternative.
So, you will go, will you, whether I
will or no? I have no power to detain
you? You will regard nothing that I can
say?
-- 123 --
[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]
Believe me, madam, no resolution
ever was formed after a more vehement
struggle. If my motives were known,
you would not only cease to oppose, but
would hasten my departure. Honour
me so far with your good opinion, as to
believe that, in saying this, I say nothing
but the truth, and render my duty less
burthensome by cheerfully acquiescing
in its dictates.
I would, replied my lady, I could
find somebody that has more power
over you than I have. Whom shall I
call in to aid me in this arduous task?
Nay, dear madam, if I can resist your
intreaties, surely no other can hope to
succeed.
I am not sure of that, said my friend,
archly; there is one person in the world
whose supplications, I greatly suspect,
you would not withstand.
-- 124 --
[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]
Whom do you mean? said I, in some
trepidation.
You will know presently. Unless I
can prevail upon you, I shall be obliged
to call for assistance.
Spare me the pain of repeating that
no power on earth can change my resolution.
That's a fib, she rejoined, with increased
archness. You know it is. If
a certain person intreat you to stay, you
will easily comply. I see I cannot hope
to prevail by my own strength. That
is a mortifying consideration, but we
must not part, that is a point settled. If
nothing else 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 was overwhelmed
with sweet confusion. Averted eyes
-- 125 --
[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]
and reluctant steps, might have explained
to me the purpose of this meeting, if
I had believed that purpose to be possible.
I felt the necessity of new fortitude,
and struggled to recollect the motives
that had hitherto sustained me.
There, said my patroness, I have
been endeavouring to persuade this
young 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 shew
his reasons to be groundless. I have
merely remonstrated with him on the
folly of his scheme, but he has proved
refractory to all I can say. Perhaps your
efforts may meet with better success.
Clarice said not a word. My own
embarrassment equally disabled me from
speaking. Regarding us both, for some
time, with a benign aspect, Mrs. Lorimer
-- 126 --
[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]
resumed, taking an hand of each and
joining them together.
I very well know what it was that
suggested this scheme. It is strange that
you should suppose me so careless an observer
as not to note, or not to understand
your situation. I am as well acquainted
with what is passing in your heart as you
yourself are, but why are you so anxious
to conceal it. You know less of the adventurousness
of love than I should have
suspected. But I will not trifle with
your feelings.
You, Clithero, know the wishes that
I once cherished. I had hoped that my
son would have found, in this darling
child, an object worthy of his choice, and
that my girl would have preferred him
to all others. But I have long since discovered
that this could not be. They
are nowise suited to each other. There
is one thing in the next place desirable,
-- 127 --
[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]
and now my wishes are accomplished.
I see that you love each other, and
never, in my opinion, was a passion
more rational and just. I should think
myself the worst of beings if I did not
contribute all in my power to your happiness.
There is not the shadow of objection
to your union. I know your scruples,
Clithero, and am sorry to see that you
harbour them for a moment. Nothing is
more unworthy of your good sense.
I found out this girl long ago. Take
my word for it, young man, she does not
fall short of you in the purity and tenderness
of her attachment. What need
is there of tedious preliminaries. I
will leave you together, and hope you
will not be long in coming to a mutual
understanding. Your union cannot be
completed too soon for my wishes.
Clarice is my only and darling daughter.
-- 128 --
[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]
As to you Clithero, expect henceforth
that treatment from me, not only to which
your own merit intitles you, but which
is due to the husband of my daughter.---
With these words she retired and left us
together.
Great God! deliver me from the torments
of this remembrance. That a
being by whom I was snatched from
penury and brutal ignorance, exalted to
some rank in the intelligent creation,
reared to affluence and honour, and thus,
at last, spontaneously endowed with all
that remained to complete the sum of my
felicity, that a being like this---but such
thoughts must not yet be---I must shut
them out, or I shall never arrive at the
end of my tale. My efforts have been
thus far successful. I have hitherto been
able to deliver a coherent narrative.
Let the last words that I shall speak
-- 129 --
[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]
afford some glimmering of my better days.
Let me execute without faltering the
only task that remains for me.
-- 130 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER VI.
[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]
How propitious, how incredible
was this event! I could scarcely
confide in the testimony of my senses.
Was it true that Clarice was before me,
that she was prepared to countenance
my presumption, that she had slighted
obstacles which I had deemed insurmountable,
that I was fondly beloved by
her, and should shortly be admitted to
the possession of so inestimable a good?
I will not repeat the terms in which I
poured forth, at her feet, the raptures of
my gratitude. My impetuosity soon extorted
from Clarice, a confirmation of
-- 131 --
[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]
her mother's declaration. An unrestrained
intercourse was thenceforth established
between us. Dejection and languor
gave place, in my bosom, to the irradiations
of joy and hope. My flowing
fortunes seemed to have attained their
utmost and immutable height.
Alas! They were destined to ebb
with unspeakably greater rapidity, and to
leave me, in a moment, stranded and
wrecked.
Our nuptials would have been solemnised
without delay, had not a melancholy
duty interferred. Clarice had a
friend in a distant part of the kingdom.
Her health had long been the prey of a
consumption. She was now evidently
tending to dissolution. In this extremity
she intreated her friend to afford her the
consolation of her presence. The only
wish that remained was to die in her
arms
-- 132 --
[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]
This request could not but be willingly
complied with. It became me
patiently to endure the delay that would
thence arise to the completion of my
wishes. Considering the urgency and
mournfulness of the occasion, it was
impossible for me to murmur, and the
affectionate Clarice would suffer nothing
to interfere with the duty which she
owed to her dying friend. I accompanied
her on this journey, remained with
her a few days, and then parted from
her to return to the metropolis. It was
not imagined that it would be necessary
to prolong her absence beyond a month.
When I bade her farewell, and informed
her on what day I proposed to return for
her, I felt no decay of my satisfaction.
My thoughts were bright and full of
exultation. Why was not some intimation
afforded me of the snares that lay in my
path? In the train laid for my
-- 133 --
[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]
destruction, the agent had so skilfully contrived
that my security was not molested by the
faintest omen.
I hasten to the crisis of my tale. I am
almost dubious of my strength. The
nearer I approach to it, the stronger is
my aversion. My courage, instead of
gathering force as I proceed, decays. I
am willing to dwell still longer on preliminary
circumstances. There are
other incidents without which my story
would be lame. I retail them because
they afford me a kind of respite from
horrors, at the thought of which every
joint in my frame trembles. They must
be endured, but that infirmity may
be forgiven, which makes me inclined to
procrastinate my suffering.
I mentioned the lover whom my
patroness was compelled, by the machinations
of her brother, to discard. More
than twenty years had passed since their
-- 134 --
[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]
separation. His birth was mean and he
was without fortune. His profession
was that of a surgeon. My lady not only
prevailed upon him to abandon his country,
but enabled him to do this by supplying
his necessities from her own purse.
His excellent understanding was, for a
time, obscured by passion; but it was not
difficult for my lady ultimately to obtain
his concurrence to all her schemes. He
saw and adored the rectitude of her motives,
did not disdain to accept her gifts,
and projected means for maintaining an
epistolary intercourse during their separation.
Her interest procured him a post in
the service of the East-India company.
She was, from time to time, informed of
his motions. A war broke out between
the Company and some of the native
powers. He was present at a great battle
in which the English were defeated.
-- 135 --
[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]
She could trace him by his letters and
by other circumstances thus far, but
here the thread was discontinued, and
no means which she employed could procure
any tidings of him. Whether he
was captive, or dead, continued, for several
years, to be merely matter of conjecture.
On my return to Dublin, I found my
patroness engaged in conversation with
a stranger. She introduced us to each
other in a manner that indicated the
respect which she entertained for us both.
I surveyed and listened to him with
considerable attention. His aspect was
noble and ingenious, but his sun-burnt and
rugged features bespoke a various and
boisterous pilgrimage. The furrows of
his brow were the products of vicissitude
and hardship, rather than of age. His
accents were fiery and energetic, and the
-- 136 --
[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]
impassioned boldness of his address, as
well as the tenor of his discourse, full of
allusions to the past, and regrets that the
course of events had not been different,
made me suspect something extraordinary
in his character.
As soon as he left us, my lady explained
who he was. He was no other
than the object of her youthful attachment,
who had, a few days before, dropped
among us as from the skies. He
had a long and various story to tell. He
had accounted for his silence by enumerating
the incidents of his life. (He had
escaped from the prisons of Hyder, had
wandered on foot, and under various
disguises, through the northern district
of Hindoostaun. He was sometimes a
scholar of Benares, and sometimes a
disciple of the Mosque. According to
the exigencies of the times, he was a pilgrim
to Mecca or to Jagunaut. By a
-- 137 --
[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]
long, circuitous, and perilous route, he at
length arrived at the Turkish capital.
Here he resided for several years, deriving
a precarious subsistence from the
profession of a surgeon. He was obliged
to desert this post, in consequence of
a duel between two Scotsmen. One of
them had embraced the Greek religion,
and was betrothed to the daughter of a
wealthy trader of that nation. He perished
in the conflict, and the family of the
lady not only procured the execution of
his antagonist, but threatened to involve
all those who were known to be connected
with him in the same ruin.
His life being thus endangered, it
became necessary for him to seek a new
residence. He fled from Constantinople
with such precipitation as reduced him
to the lowest poverty. He had traversed
the Indian conquests of Alexander,
as a mendicant. In the same character,
-- 138 --
[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]
he now wandered over the native country
of Philip and Philœpamen. He passed
safely through multiplied perils, and
finally, embarking at Salonichi, he
reached Venice. He descended through
the passes of the Apennine into Tuscany.
In this journey he suffered a long detention
from banditti, by whom he was
waylaid. In consequence of his harmless
department, and a seasonable display of
his chirurgical skill, they granted him his
life, though they, for a time restrained
him of his liberty, and compelled him to
endure their society. The time was not
misemployed which he spent immured
in caverns and carousing with robbers.
His details were eminently singular and
curious, and evinced the accuteness of
his penetration, as well the steadfastness
of his courage.
After emerging from these wilds, he
found his way along the banks of the
-- 139 --
[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]
Arno to Leghorn. Thence he procured a
passage to America, whence he had just
returned, with many additions to his experience,
but none to his fortune.
This was a remarkable event. It did
not at first appear how far its consequences
would extend. The lady was, at present,
disengaged and independent. Though
the passion which clouded her early prosperity
was extinct, time had not diminished
the worth of her friend, and they were
far from having reached that age when
love becomes chimerical and marriage
folly. A confidential intercourse was
immediately established between them.
The bounty of Mrs. Lorimer soon divested
her friend of all fear of poverty. At
any rate, said she, he shall wander no
further, but shall be comfortably situated
for the rest of his life. All his scruples
were vanquished by the reasonableness
-- 140 --
[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]
of her remonstrances and the vehemence
of her solicitations.
A cordial intimacy grew between
me and the newly arrived. Our interviews
were frequent, and our communications
without reserve. He detailed to
me the result of his experience, and expatiated
without end on the history of
his actions and opinions. He related
the adventures of his youth, and dwelt
upon all the circumstances of his attachment
to my patroness. On this subject
I had heard only general details. I continually
found cause, in the course of
his narrative, to revere the illustrious
qualities of my lady, and to weep at the
calamities to which the infernal malice
of her brother had subjected her.
The tale of that man's misdeeds, amplified
and dramatised, by the indignant
eloquence of this historian, oppressed
me with astonishment. If a poet had
-- 141 --
[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]
drawn such a portrait I should have
been prone to suspect the soundness of
his judgment. Till now I had imagined
that no character was uniform and
unmixed, and my theory of the passions
did not enable me to account
for a propensity gratified merely by evil,
and delighting in shrieks and agony for
their own sake.
It was natural to suggest to my friend,
when expatiating on this theme, an inquiry
as to how far subsequent events
had obliterated the impressions that were
then made, and as to the plausibility of
reviving, at this more auspicious period,
his claims on the heart of his friend.
When he thought proper to notice these
hints, he gave me to understand that time
had made no essential alteration in his
sentiments in this respect, that he still
fostered an hope, to which every day added
new vigour, that whatever was the
-- 142 --
[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]
ultimate event, he trusted in his fortitude
to sustain it, if adverse, and in his wisdom
to extract from it the most valuable
consequences, if it should prove prosperous.
The progress of things was not unfavourable
to his hopes. She treated
his insinuations and professions with
levity; but her arguments seemed to be
urged, with no other view than to afford
an opportunity of confutation; and, since
there was no abatement of familiarity and
kindness, there was room to hope that
the affair would terminate agreeably to
his wishes.
-- 143 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER VII.
[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]
Clarice, meanwhile, was
absent. Her friend seemed, at the end
of a month, to be little less distant from
the grave than at first. My impatience
would not allow me to wait till her death.
I visited her, but was once more obliged
to return alone. I arrived late in the city,
and being greatly fatigued, I retired almost
immediately to my chamber.
On hearing of my arrival, Sarsefield
hastened to see me. He came to my bed-side,
and such, in his opinion, was the
importance of the tidings which he had
-- 144 --
[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]
to communicate, that he did not scruple
to rouse me from a deep sleep...
At this period of his narrative,
Clithero stopped. His complexion varied
from one degree of paleness to another.
His brain appeared to suffer some severe
constriction. He desired to be excused,
for a few minutes, from proceeding. In
a short time he was relieved from this
paroxysm, and resumed his tale with an
accent tremulous at first, but acquiring
stability and force as he went on.
On waking, as I have said, I found
my friend seated at my bed-side. His
countenance exibited various tokens of
alarm. As soon as I perceived who it
was, I started, exclaming What is the
matter?
He sighed. Pardon, said he, this
unseasonable intrusion. A light matter
would not have occasioned it. I have
waited, for two days past, in an agony
-- 145 --
[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]
of impatience, for your return. Happily,
you are, at last, come. I stand in the
utmost need of your council and aid.
Heaven defend! cried I. This is a
terrible prelude. You may, of course,
rely upon my assistance and advice.
What is it that you have to propose?
Tuesday evening, he answered, I
spent here. It was late before I returned
to my lodgings. I was in the act of lifting
my hand to the bell, when my eye
was caught by a person standing close
to the wall, at the distance of ten paces.
His attitude was that of one employed
in watching my motions. His face was
turned towards me, and happened, at
that moment, to be fully illuminated by
the rays of a globe-lamp that hung over
the door. I instantly recognized his
features. I was petrified. I had no
power to execute my design, or even to
move, but stood, for some seconds
-- 146 --
[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]
gazing upon him. He was, in no degree,
disconcerted by the eagerness of my
scrutiny. He seemed perfectly indifferent
to the consequences of being known.
At length he slowly turned his eyes to
another quarter, but without changing
his posture, or the sternness of his looks.
I cannot describe to you the shock which
this encounter produced in me. At last
I went into the house, and have ever
since been excessively uneasy.
I do not see any ground for uneasiness
You do not then suspect who this
person is?
No...
It is Arthur Wiatte...
Good heaven! It is impossible.
What, my lady's brother?
The same...
It cannot be. Were we not assured
of his death? That he perished in a
-- 147 --
[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]
mutiny on board the vessel in which he was
embarked for transportation?
Such was rumour, which is easily
mistaken. My eyes cannot be deceived
in this case. I should as easily fail to
recognize his sister, when I first met her,
as him. This is the man, whether once
dead or not, he is, at present, alive, and
in this city.
But has any thing since happened to
confirm you in this opinion.
Yes, there has. As soon as I had
recovered from my first surprise, I began
to reflect upon the measures proper to
be taken. This was the identical Arthur
Wiatte. You know his character. No
time was likely to change the principles
of such a man, but his appearance sufficiently
betrayed the incurableness of his
habits. The same sullen and atrocious
passions were written in his visage. You
-- 148 --
[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]
recollect the vengeance which Wiatte
denounced against his sister. There is
every thing to dread from his malignity.
How to obviate the danger, I know not.
I thought, however, of one expedient. It
might serve a present purpose, and something
better might suggest itself on your
return.
I came hither early the next day.
Old Gowan the porter is well acquainted
with Wiatte's story. I mentioned to him
that I had reason to think that he had
returned. I charged him to have a
watchful eye upon every one that knocked
at the gate, and that if this person
should come, by no means to admit him.
The old man promised faithfully to abide
by my directions. His terrors, indeed,
were greater than mine, and he knew the
importance of excluding Wiatte from
these walls.
-- 149 --
[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]
Did you not inform my lady of this?
No. In what way could I tell it to
her? What end could it answer? Why
should I make her miserable? But I have
not done. Yesterday morning Gowan
took me aside, and informed me that
Wiatte had made his appearance, the day
before, at the gate. He knew him, he
said, in a moment. He demanded to see
the lady, but the old man told him she
was engaged, and could not be seen.
He assumed peremtory and haughty airs,
and asserted that his business was of
such importance as not to endure a
moment's delay. Gowan persisted in his
first refusal. He retired with great reluctance,
but said he should return
to-morrow, when he should insist upon
admission to the presence of the lady.
I have inquired, and find that he has not
repeated his visit. What is to be done?
-- 150 --
[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]
I was equally at a loss with my friend.
This incident was so unlooked for.
What might not be dreaded from the
monstrous depravity of Wiatte? His menaces
of vengeance against his sister still
rung in my ears. Some means of eluding
them were indispensable. Could law be
resorted to? Against an evil like this,
no legal provision had been made.
Nine years had elapsed since his
transportation. Seven years was the
period of his exile. In returning, therefore,
he had committed no crime. His
person could not be lawfully molested.
We were justified, merely, in repelling
an attack. But suppose we should appeal
to law, could this be done without
the knowledge and concurrence of the
lady? She would never permit it. Her
heart was incapable of fear from this
quarter. She would spurn at the mention
of precautions against the hatred of
-- 151 --
[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]
her brother. Her inquietude would
merely be awakened on his own account.
I was overwhelmed with perplexity.
Perhaps if he were sought out, and some
judgment formed of the kind of danger
to be dreaded from him, by a knowledge
of his situation and views, some expedient
might be thence suggested.
But how should his haunts be discovered?
This was easy. He had intimated
the design of applying again for
admission to his sister. Let a person be
stationed near at hand, who, being furnished
with an adequate description of his
person and dress, shall mark him when
he comes, and follow him, when he
retires, and shall forthwith impart to us
the information on that head which he
shall be able to collect.
-- 152 --
[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]
My friend concurred in this scheme.
No better could, for the present, be suggested.
Here ended our conference.
I was thus supplied with a new subject
of reflection. It was calculated to
fill my mind with dreary forbodings.
The future was no longer a scene of
security and pleasure. It would be hard
for those to partake of our fears, who
did not partake of our experience. The
existence of Wiatte, was the canker that
had blasted the felicity of my patroness.
In his reappearance on the stage, there
was something portentous. It seemed
to include in it, consequences of the
utmost moment, without my being able
to discover what these consequences
were.
That Sarsefield should be so quickly
followed by his Arch-foe; that they started
anew into existence, without any previous
intimation, in a manner wholly
-- 153 --
[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]
unexpected, and at the same period. It
seemed as if there lurked, under those
appearances, a tremendous significance,
which human sagacity could not uncover.
My heart sunk within me
when I reflected that this was the father
of my Clarice. He by whose cruelty
her mother was torn from the injoyment
of untarnished honour, and consigned to
infamy and an untimely grave: He by
whom herself was abandoned in the helplessness
of infancy, and left to be the
prey of obdurate avarice, and the victim
of wretches who traffic in virgin innocence:
Who had done all that in him lay
to devote her youth to guilt and misery.
What were the limits of his power?
How may he exert the parental prerogatives?
To sleep, while these images were
haunting me, was impossible. I passed
the night in continual motion. I strode,
-- 154 --
[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]
without ceasing, across the floor of my
apartment. My mind was wrought to
an higher pitch than I had ever before
experienced. The occasion, accurately
considered, was far from justifying the
ominous inquietudes which I then felt.
How then should I account for them?
Sarsefield probably enjoyed his usual
slumber. His repose might not be perfectly
serene, but when he ruminated on
impending or possible calamities, his
tongue did not cleave to his mouth, his
throat was not parched with unquenchable
thirst, he was not incessantly stimulated
to employ his superfluous fertility of
thought in motion. If I trembled for
the safety of her whom I loved, and
whose safety was endangered by being
the daughter of this miscreant, had he
not equal reason to fear for her whom
he also loved, and who, as the sister of
this ruffian, was encompassed by the most
-- 155 --
[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]
alarming perils. Yet he probably was
calm while I was harassed by anxieties.
Alas! The difference was easily
explained. Such was the beginning of
a series ordained to hurry me to swift
destruction. Such were the primary
tokens of the presence of that power by
whose accursed machinations I was destined
to fall. You are startled at this
declaration. It is one to which you have
been little accustomed. Perhaps you
regard it merely as an effusion of phrenzy.
I know what I am saying. I do not
build upon conjectures and surmises. I
care not indeed for your doubts. Your
conclusion may be fashioned at your
pleasure. Would to heaven that my
belief were groundless, and that I had no
reason to believe my intellects to have
been perverted by diabolical instigations.
I could procure no sleep that night.
After Sarsefield's departure I did not
-- 156 --
[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]
even lie down. It seemed to me that I
could not obtain the benefits of repose
otherwise than by placing my lady
beyond the possibility of danger.
I met Sarsefield the next day. In
pursuance of the scheme which had been
adopted by us on the preceding evening,
a person was selected and commissioned
to watch the appearance of Wiatte.
The day passed as usual with respect to
the lady. In the evening she was surrounded
by a few friends. Into this
number I was now admitted. Sarsefield
and myself made a part of this company.
Various topics were discussed with ease
and sprightliness. Her societies were
composed of both sexes, and seemed to
have monopolized all the ingenuity and
wit that existed in the metropolis.
After a slight repast the company
dispersed. This separation took place
earlier than usual on account of a slight
-- 157 --
[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]
indisposition in Mrs. Lorimer. Sarse
field and I went out together. We took
that opportunity of examining our agent,
and receiving no satisfaction from him,
we dismissed him, for that night, enjoining
him to hold himself in readiness for
repeating the experiment to-morrow. My
friend directed his steps homeward, and
I proceeded to execute a commission,
with which I had charged myself.
A few days before, a large sum had
been deposited in the hands of a banker,
for the use of my lady. It was the
amount of a debt which had lately been
recovered. It was lodged here for the
purpose of being paid on demand of her
or her agents. It was my present business
to receive this money. I had
deferred the performance of this engagement
to this late hour, on acccount of
certain preliminaries which were necessary
to be adjusted.
-- 158 --
[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]
Having received this money, I prepared
to return home. The inquietude
which had been occasioned by Sarsefield's
intelligence, had not incapacitated me
from performing my usual daily occupations.
It was a theme, to which, at every
interval of leisure from business or discourse,
I did not fail to return. At
those times I employed myself in examining
the subject on all sides; in
supposing particular emergencies, and
delineating the conduct that was proper
to be observed on each. My daily
thoughts were, by no means, so fear-inspiring
as the meditations of the night
had been.
As soon as I left the banker's door,
my meditations fell into this channel. I
again reviewed the recent occurrences,
and imagined the consequences likely to
flow from them. My deductions were
not, on this occasion, peculiarly
-- 159 --
[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]
distressful. The return of darkness had added
nothing to my apprehensions. I regarded
Wiatte merely as one against whose
malice it was wise to employ the most
vigilant precautions. In revolving these
precautions nothing occurred that was
new. The danger appeared without
unusual aggravations, and the expedients
that offered themselves to my choice,
were viewed with a temper not more
sanguine or despondent than before.
In this state of mind I began and continued
my walk. The distance was considerable
between my own habitation
and that which I had left. My way lay
chiefly through populous and well frequented
streets. In one part of the way,
however, it was at the option of the passenger
either to keep along the large
streets, or considerably to shorten the
journey, by turning into a dark, crooked,
-- 160 --
[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]
and narrow lane. Being familiar with
every part of this metropolis, and deeming
it advisable to take the shortest and
obscurest road, I turned into the alley.
I proceeded without interruption to the
next turning. One night officer, distinguished
by his usual ensigns, was the
only person who passed me. I had gone
three steps beyond when I perceived a
man by my side. I had scarcely time
to notice this circumstance, when an
hoarse voice exclaimed. “Damn ye villain,
ye're a dead man!”
At the same moment a pistol flashed
at my ear, and a report followed. This,
however, produced no other effect, than,
for a short space, to overpower my senses.
I staggered back, but did not fall.
The ball, as I afterwards discovered,
had grazed my forehead, but without
making any dangerous impression. The
assassin, perceiving that his pistol had
-- 161 --
[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]
been ineffectual, muttered, in an enraged
tone,---This shall do your business---At
the same time, he drew a knife forth
from his bosom.
I was able to distinguish this action
by the rays of a distant lamp, which
glistened on the blade. All this passed
in an instant. The attack was so abrupt
that my thoughts could not be suddenly
recalled from the confusion into which
they were thrown. My exertions were
mechanical. My will might be said to
be passive, and it was only by retrospect
and a contemplation of consequences,
that I became fully informed of the
nature of the scene.
If my assailant had disappeared as
soon as he had discharged the pistol,
my state of extreme surprise might have
slowly given place to resolution and
activity. As it was, my sense was no
sooner struck by the reflection from the
-- 162 --
[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]
blade, than my hand, as if by spontaneous
energy, was thrust into my pocket.
I drew forth a pistol---
He lifted up his weapon to strike,
but it dropped from his powerless fingers.
He fell and his groans informed me that
I had managed my arms with more skill
than my adversary. The noise of this
encounter soon attracted spectators.
Lights were brought and my antagonist
discovered bleeding at my feet. I
explained, as briefly as I was able, the
scene which they witnessed. The prostrate
person was raised by two men,
and carried into a public house, nigh at
hand.
I had not lost my presence of mind.
I, at once, perceived the propriety of
administering assistance to the wounded
man. I dispatched, therefore, one of
the by-standers for a surgeon of considerable
eminence, who lived at a small
-- 163 --
[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]
distance, and to whom I was well known.
The man was carried into an inner apartment
and laid upon the floor. It was
not till now that I had a suitable opportunity
of ascertaining who it was with
whom I had been engaged. I now
looked upon his face. The paleness of
death could not conceal his well known
features. It was Wiatte himself who
was breathing his last groans at my
feet!...
The surgeon, whom I had summoned,
attended; but immediately perceived
the condition of his patient to
be hopeless. In a quarter of an hour
he expired. During this interval, he
was insensible to all around him. I
was known to the surgeon, the landlord
and some of the witnesses. The
case needed little explanation. The
accident reflected no guilt upon me. The
-- 164 --
[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]
landlord was charged with the care of
the corse till the morning, and I was
allowed to return home, without further
impediment.
-- 165 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER VIII.
[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]
Till now my mind had been
swayed by the urgencies of this occasion.
These reflections were excluded, which
rushed tumultuously upon me, the moment
I was at leisure to receive them.
Without foresight of a previous moment,
an entire change had been wrought in
my condition.
I had been oppressed with a sense of
the danger that flowed from the existence
of this man. By what means the
peril could be annihilated, and we be
placed in security from his attempts, no
efforts of mind could suggest. To devise
-- 166 --
[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]
these means, and employ them with success,
demanded, as I conceived, the most
powerful sagacity and the firmest courage.
Now the danger was no more.
The intelligence in which plans of mischief
might be generated, was extinguished
or flown. Lifeless were the
hands ready to execute the dictates of
that intelligence. The contriver of enormous
evil, was, in one moment, bereft of
the power and the will to injure. Our
past tranquility had been owing to the
belief of his death. Fear and dismay
had resumed their dominion when the
mistake was discovered. But now we
might regain possession of our wonted
confidence. I had beheld with my own
eyes the lifeless corpse of our implacable
adversary. Thus, in a moment, had
terminated his long and flagitious career.
His restless indignation, his malignant
projects, that had so long occupied the
-- 167 --
[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]
stage, and been so fertile of calamity,
were now at an end!
In the course of my meditations, the
idea of the death of this man had occurred,
and it bore the appearance of a desirable
event. Yet it was little qualified
to tranquilise my fears. In the long
catalogue of contingencies, this, indeed,
was to be found; but it was as little
likely to happen as any other. It could
not happen without a series of anterior
events paving the way for it. If his death
came from us, it must be the theme of
design. It must spring from laborious
circumvention and deep laid stratagems.
No. He was dead. I had killed him.
What had I done? I had meditated
nothing. I was impelled by an unconscious
necessity. Had the assailant been
my father the consequence would have
been the same. My understanding had
been neutral. Could it be? In a space
-- 168 --
[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]
so short, was it possible that so tremendous
a deed had been executed? Was I
not deceived by some portentous vision?
I had witnessed the convulsions and last
agonies of Wyatte. He was no more,
and I was his destroyer!
Such was the state of my mind for
some time after this dreadful event. Previously
to it I was calm, considerate, and
self-collected. I marked the way that I
was going. Passing objects were observed.
If I adverted to the series of
my own reflections, my attention was not
seized and fastened by them. I could
disengage myself at pleasure, and could
pass, without difficulty, from attention
to the world within, to the contemplation
of that without.
Now my liberty, in this respect, was
at an end. I was fettered, confounded,
smitten with excess of thought, and laid
prostrate with wonder! I no longer
-- 169 --
[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]
attended to my steps. When I emerged
from my stupor, I found that I had
trodden back the way which I had lately
come, and had arrived within sight of
the banker's boor. I checked myself,
and once more turned my steps homeward.
This seemed to be an hint for entering
into new reflections. The deed,
said I, is irretreivable. I have killed the
brother of my patroness, the father of
my love.
This suggestion was new. It instantly
involved me in terror and perplexity.
How shall I communicate the tidings?
What effect will they produce? My
lady's sagacity is obscured by the benevolence
of her temper. Her brother was
sordidly wicked. An hoary ruffian, to
whom the language of pity was as unintelligible
as the gabble of monkeys. His
heart was fortified against compunction,
-- 170 --
[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]
by the atrocious habits of forty years:
he lived only to interrupt her peace, to
confute the promises of virtue, and convert
to rancour and reproach the fair
fame of fidelity.
He was her brother still. As an
human being, his depravity was never
beyond the health-restoring power of
repentance. His heart, so long as it
beat, was accessible to remorse. The
singularity of his birth had made her
regard this being as more intimately her
brother, than would have happened in
different circumstances. It was her obstinate
persuasion that their fates were
blended. The rumour of his death she
had never credited. It was a topic of
congratulation to her friends, but of
mourning and distress to her. That he
would one day reappear upon the stage,
and assume the dignity of virtue, was a
-- 171 --
[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]
source of consolation with which she
would never consent to part.
Her character was now known.
When the doom of exile was pronounced
upon him, she deemed it incumbent on
her to vindicate herself from aspersions
founded on misconceptions of her motives
in refusing her interference. The
manuscript, though unpublished, was
widely circulated. None could resist
her simple and touching eloquence, nor
rise from the perusal without resigning
his heart to the most impetuous impulses
of admiration, and enlisting himself
among the eulogists of her justice and
her fortitude. This was the only monument,
in a written form, of her genius.
As such it was engraven on my memory.
The picture that it described was the
perpetual companion of my thoughts.
-- 172 --
[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]
Alas! It had, perhaps, been well for
me if it had been buried in eternal oblivion.
I read in it the condemnation of
my deed, the agonies she was preparing
to suffer, and the indignation that would
overflow upon the author of so signal a
calamity.
I had rescued my life by the sacrifice
of his. Whereas I should have
died. Wretched and precipitate coward!
What had become of my boasted gratitude?
Such was the zeal that I had vowed
to her. Such the services which it was
the business of my life to perform. I
had snatched her brother from existence.
I had torn from her the hope which she
so ardently and indefatigably cherished.
From a contemptible and dastardly regard
to my own safety I had failed in
the moment of trial, and when called
upon by heaven to evince the sincerity
of my professions.
-- 173 --
[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]
She had treated my professions lightly.
My vows of eternal devotion she
had rejected with lofty disinterestedness.
She had arraigned my impatience of obligation
as criminal, and condemned every
scheme I had projected for freeing myself
from the burthen which her beneficence
had laid upon me. The impassioned and
vehement anxiety with which, in former
days, she had deprecated the vengeance of
her lover against Wiatte, rung in my ears.
My senses were shocked anew by the
dreadful sounds “Touch not my brother.
Wherever you meet with him, of whatever
outrage he be guilty, suffer him to
pass in safety. Despise me: abandon
me: kill me. All this I can bear even
from you, but spare, I implore you, my
unhappy brother. The stroke that deprives
him of life will not only have the
same effect upon me, but will set my
portion in everlasting misery.”
-- 174 --
[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]
To these supplications I had been
deaf. It is true I had not rushed upon
him unarmed, intending no injury nor
expecting any. Of that degree of wickedness
I was, perhaps, incapable. Alas!
I have immersed myself sufficiently deep
in crimes. I have trampled under foot
every motive dear to the heart of honour.
I have shewn myself unworthy the society
of men.
Such were the turbulent suggestions
of that moment. My pace slackened.
I stopped and was obliged to support
myself against a wall. The sickness
that had seized my heart penetrated
every part of my frame. There was
but one thing wanting to complete my
distraction...My lady, said I, believed her
fate to be blended with that of Wiatte.
Who shall affirm that the persuasion is
a groundless one. She had lived and
prospered, notwithstanding the general
-- 175 --
[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]
belief that her brother was dead. She
would not hearken to the rumour. Why?
Because nothing less than indubitable
evidence would suffice to convince her?
Because the counter-intimation flowed
from an infalible source? How can the
latter supposition be confuted? Has she
not predicted the event?
The period of terrible fulfilment has
arrived. The same blow that bereaved
him of life, has likewise ratified her
doom.
She has been deceived. It is nothing
more, perhaps, than a fond imagination...
It matters not. Who knows not the
cogency of faith? That the pulses of
life are at the command of the will? The
bearer of these tidings will be the messenger
of death. A fatal sympathy will
seize her. She will shrink, and swoon,
and perish at the news!
-- 176 --
[figure description] Page 176.[end figure description]
Fond and short-sighted wretch! This
is the price thou hast given for security.
In the rashness of thy thought thou
said'st, Nothing is wanting but his death
to restore us to confidence and safety.
Lo! the purchase is made. Havock
and despair, that were restrained during
his life, were let loose by his last sigh.
Now only is destruction made sure. Thy
lady, thy Clarice, thy friend, and thyself,
are, by this act, involved in irretreivable
and common ruin!
I started from my attitude. I was
scarcely conscious of any transition. The
interval was fraught with stupor and
amazement. It seemed as if my senses
had been hushed in sleep, while the
powers of locomotion were unconsciously
exerted to bear me to my chamber.
By whatever means the change
was effected, there I was...
-- 177 --
[figure description] Page 177.[end figure description]
I have been able to proceed thus far.
I can scarcely believe the testimony of
my memory that assures me of this. My
task is almost executed, but whence shall
I obtain strength enough to finish it?
What I have told is light as gossamer,
compared with the insupportable and
crushing horrors of that which is to
come. Heaven, in token of its vengeance,
will enable me to proceed. It
is fitting that my scene should thus
close.
My fancy began to be infected with
the errors of my understanding. The
mood into which my mind was plunged
was incapable of any propitious intermission.
All within me was tempestuous
and dark. My ears were accessible
to no sounds but those of shrieks and
lamentations. It was deepest midnight,
and all the noises of a great metropolis
were hushed. Yet I listened as if to
-- 178 --
[figure description] Page 178.[end figure description]
catch some strain of the dirge that was
begun. Sable robes, sobs and a dreary
solemnity encompassed me on all sides.
I was haunted to despair by images of
death, imaginary clamours, and the train
of funeral pageantry. I seemed to have
passed forward to a distant era of my
life. The effects which were to come
were already realized. The foresight
of misery created it, and set me in the
midst of that hell which I feared.
From a paroxysm like this the worst
might reasonably be dreaded, yet the
next step to destruction was not suddenly
taken. I paused on the brink of the
precipice, as if to survey the depth of
that phrensy that invaded me; was able
to ponder on the scene, and deliberate,
in a state that partook of calm, on the
circumstances of my situation. My mind
was harrassed by the repetition of one
idea. Conjecture deepened into
-- 179 --
[figure description] Page 179.[end figure description]
certainty. I could place the object in no
light which did not corroborate the
persuasion that, in the act committed, I
had ensured the destruction of my lady.
At length my mind, somewhat relieved
from the tempest of my fears, began to
trace and analize the consequences
which I dreaded.
The fate of Wiatte would inevitably
draw along with it that of his sister. In
what way would this effect be produced?
Were they linked together by a sympathy
whose influence was independent
of sensible communication? Could she
arrive at a knowledge of his miserable
end by other than verbal means? I had
heard of such extraordinary co-partnerships
in being and modes of instantaneous
intercourse among beings locally
distant. Was this a new instance of
the subtlety of mind? Had she already
-- 180 --
[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]
endured his agonies, and like him already
ceased to breathe.
Every hair bristled at this horrible
suggestion. But the force of sympathy
might be chimerical. Buried in sleep,
or engaged in careless meditation, the
instrument by which her destiny might
be accomplished, was the steel of an
assassin. A series of events, equally
beyond the reach of foresight, with those
which had just happened, might introduce,
with equal abruptness, a similar
disaster. What, at that moment, was
her condition? Reposing in safety in
her chamber, as her family imagined.
But were they not deceived? Was she
not a mangled corse? Whatever were
her situation, it could not be ascertained,
except by extraordinary means, till the
morning. Was it wise to defer the scrutiny
till then? Why not instantly investigate
the truth?
-- 181 --
[figure description] Page 181.[end figure description]
These ideas passed rapidly through
my mind. A considerable portion of
time and amplification of phrase are
necessary to exhibit, verbally, ideas contemplated
in a space of incalculable brevity.
With the same rapidity I conceived
the resolution of determining the truth
of my suspicions. All the family, but
myself, were at rest. Winding passages
would conduct me, without danger of
disturbing them, to the hall from which
double staircases ascended. One of these
led to a saloon above, on the east side
of which was a door that communicated
with a suit of rooms, occupied by the
lady of the mansion. The first was an
antichamber, in which a female servant
usually lay. The second was the lady's
own bed-chamber. This was a sacred
recess, with whose situation, relative to
the other apartments of the building, I
was well acquainted, but of which I
-- 182 --
[figure description] Page 182.[end figure description]
knew nothing from my own examination,
having never been admitted into it.
Thither I was now resolved to repair.
I was not deterred by the sanctity of the
place and hour. I was insensible to all
consequences but the removal of my
doubts. Not that my hopes were balanced
by my fears. That the same tragedy
had been performed in her chamber and
in the street, nothing hindered me from
believing with as much cogency as if my
own eyes had witnessed it, but the reluctance
with which we admit a detestable
truth.
To terminate a state of intolerable
suspense, I resolved to proceed forthwith
to her chamber. I took the light and
paced, with no interruption, along the
galleries. I used no precaution. If I
had met a servant or robber, I am not
sure that I should have noticed him.
My attention was too perfectly engrossed
-- 183 --
[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]
to allow me to spare any to a casual
object. I cannot affirm that no one observed
me. This, however, was probable
from the distribution of the dwelling.
It consisted of a central edifice and two
wings, one of which was appropriated to
domestics, and the other, at the extremity
of which my apartment was placed,
comprehended a library, and rooms for
formal, and social, and literary conferences.
These, therefore, were deserted
at night, and my way lay along these.
Hence it was not likely that my steps
would be observed.
I proceeded to the hall. The principal
parlour was beneath her chamber.
In the confusion of my thoughts I mistook
one for the other. I rectified, as
soon as I detected my mistake. I ascended,
with a beating heart, the staircase.
The door of the antichamber was
-- 184 --
[figure description] Page 184.[end figure description]
unfastened. I entered, totally regardless of
disturbing the girl who slept within. The
bed which she occupied was concealed
by curtains. Whether she were there,
I did not stop to examine. I cannot
recollect that any tokens were given of
wakefulness or alarm. It was not till I
reached the door of her own apartment
that my heart began to falter.
It was now that the momentousness of
the question I was about to decide, rushed
with its genuine force, upon my apprehension.
Appaled and aghast, I had
scarcely power to move the bolt. If the
imagination of her death was not to be
supported, how should I bear the spectacle
of wounds and blood? Yet this
was reserved for me. A few paces
would set me in the midst of a scene, of
which I was the abhorred contriver.
Was it right to proceed? There were
still the remnants of doubt. My
-- 185 --
[figure description] Page 185.[end figure description]
forebodings might possibly be groundless.
All within might be safety and serenity.
A respite might be gained from the execution
of an irrevocable sentence. What
could I do? Was not any thing easy to
endure in comparison with the agonies
of suspense? If I could not obviate the
evil I must bear it, but the torments of
suspense were susceptible of remedy.
I drew back the bolt, and entered
with the reluctance of fear, rather than
the cautiousness of guilt. I could not
lift my eyes from the ground. I advanced
to the middle of the room. Not a
sound like that of the dying saluted my
ear. At length, shaking off the fetters
of hopelesness, I looked up....
I saw nothing calculated to confirm
my fears. Every where there reigned
quiet and order. My heart leaped with
exultation. Can it be, said I, that I have
-- 186 --
[figure description] Page 186.[end figure description]
been betrayed with shadows?....But this
is not sufficient....
Within an alcove was the bed that
belonged to her. If her safety were inviolate,
it was here that she reposed.
What remained to convert tormenting
doubt into ravishing certainty? I was
insensible to the perils of my present
situation. If she, indeed, were there,
would not my intrusion awaken her?
She would start and perceive me, at this
hour, standing at her bed-side. How
should I account for an intrusion so unexampled
and audacious? I could not
communicate my fears. I could not tell
her that the blood with which my hands
were stained had flowed from the wounds
of her brother.
My mind was inaccessible to such
considerations. They did not even modify
my predominant idea. Obstacles
-- 187 --
[figure description] Page 187.[end figure description]
like these, had they existed, would have
been trampled under foot.
Leaving the lamp, that I bore, on
the table, I approached the bed. I
slowly drew aside the curtain and beheld
her tranquilly slumbering. I listened,
but so profound was her sleep
that not even her breathings could be
overheard. I dropped the curtain and
retired.
How blissful and mild were the illuminations
of my bosom at this discovery.
A joy that surpassed all utterance succeeded
the fierceness of desperation. I
stood, for some moments, wrapt in delightful
contemplation. Alas! It was a luminous
but transient interval. The madness,
to whose black suggestions it
bore so strong a contrast, began now
to make sensible approaches on my
understanding.
-- 188 --
[figure description] Page 188.[end figure description]
True, said I, she lives. Her slumber
is serene and happy. She is blind to
her approaching destiny. Some hours
will at least be rescued from anguish
and death. When she wakes the phantom
that soothed her will vanish. The
tidings cannot be withheld from her.
The murderer of thy brother cannot
hope to enjoy thy smiles. Those ravishing
accents, with which thou hast used
to greet me, will be changed. Scouling
and reproaches, the invectives of thy
anger and the maledictions of thy justice
will rest upon my head.
What is the blessing which I made
the theme of my boastful arrogance?
This interval of being and repose is
momentary. She will awake but only
to perish at the spectacle of my ingratitude.
She will awake only to the consciousness
of instantly impending death.
When she again sleeps she will wake no
-- 189 --
[figure description] Page 189.[end figure description]
more. I her son, I, whom the law of
my birth doomed to poverty and hardship,
but whom her unsolicited beneficence
snatched from those evils, and
endowed with the highest good known
to intelligent beings, the consolations of
science and the blandishments of affluence;
to whom the darling of her life,
the offspring in whom are faithfully preserved
the linaments of its angelic
mother, she has not denied!....What is
the recompense that I have made? How
have I discharged the measureless debt
of gratitude to which she is entitled?
Thus!....
Cannot my guilt be extenuated? Is
there not a good that I can do thee?
Must I perpetrate unmingled evil? Is
the province assigned me that of an infernal
emisary, whose efforts are concentred
in a single purpose and that
purpose a malignant one? I am the
-- 190 --
[figure description] Page 190.[end figure description]
author of thy calamities. Whatever
misery is reserved for thee, I am the
source whence it flows. Can I not set
bounds to the stream? Cannot I prevent
thee from returning to a consciousness
which, till it ceases to exist, will not cease
to be rent and mangled?
Yes. It is in my power to screen
thee from the coming storm: to accelerate
thy journey to rest. I will do it....
The impulse was not to be resisted.
I moved with the suddenness of lightning.
Armed with a pointed implement
that lay....it was a dagger. As I set
down the lamp, I struck the edge. Yet
I saw it not, or noticed it not till I needed
its assistance. By what accident it came
hither, to what deed of darkness it had
already been subservient, I had no power
to inquire. I stepped to the table and
seized it.
-- 191 --
[figure description] Page 191.[end figure description]
The time which this action required
was insufficient to save me. My doom
was ratified by powers which no human
energies can counterwork....Need I go
father? Did you entertain any imagination
of so frightful a catastrophe? I am
overwhelmed by turns with dismay and
with wonder. I am prompted by turns
to tear my heart from my breast, and
deny faith to the verdict of my senses.
Was it I that hurried to the deed?
No. It was the dæmon that possessed
me. My limbs were guided to the bloody
office by a power foreign and superior
to mine. I had been defrauded, for a
moment, of the empire of my muscles.
A little moment for that sufficed.
If my destruction had not been decreed
why was the image of Clarice so
long excluded? Yet why do I say long?
The fatal resolution was conceived, and
I hastened to the execution, in a period
-- 192 --
[figure description] Page 192.[end figure description]
too brief for more than itself to be viewed
by the intellect.
What then? Were my hands embrued
in this precious blood? Was it to
this extremity of horror that my evil
genius was determined to urge me? Too
surely this was his purpose; too surely I
was qualified to be its minister.
I lifted the weapon. Its point was
aimed at the bosom of the sleeper. The
impulse was given....
At the instant a piercing shriek was
uttered behind me, and a stretched-out
hand, grasping the blade, made it swerve
widley from its aim. It descended, but
without inflicting a wound. Its force was
spent upon the bed.
O! for words to paint that stormy
transition! I loosed my hold of the dagger.
I started back, and fixed eyes of
frantic curiosity on the author of my
rescue. He that interposed to arrest my
-- 193 --
[figure description] Page 193.[end figure description]
deed, that started into being and activity
at a moment so pregnant with fate, without
tokens of his purpose or his coming
being previously imparted, could not, me-thought,
be less than divinity.
The first glance that I darted on this
being corroborated my conjecture. It
was the figure and the linaments of
Mrs. Lorimer. Neglegently habited in
flowing and brilliant white, with features
bursting with terror and wonder,
the likeness of that being who was
stretched upon the bed, now stood before
me.
All that I am able to conceive of angel
was comprised in the moral constitution
of this woman. That her genius had
overleaped all bounds, and interposed to
save her, was no audacious imagination.
In the state in which my mind then was
no other belief than this could occupy the
first place.
-- 194 --
[figure description] Page 194.[end figure description]
My tongue was tied. I gazed by turns
upon her who stood before me, and her
who lay upon the bed, and who, awakened
by the shriek that had been uttered, now
opened her eyes. She started from her
pillow, and, by assuming a new and more
distinct attitude, permitted me to recognize
Clarice herself!
Three days before, I had left her,
beside the bed of a dying friend, at a
solitary mansion in the mountains of
Donnegal. Here it had been her resolution
to remain till her friend should
breathe her last. Fraught with this persuasion;
knowing this to be the place
and hour of repose of my lady, hurried
forward by the impetuosity of my own
conceptions, deceived by the faint gleam
which penetrated through the curtain
and imperfectly irradiated features which
bore, at all times, a powerful resemblance
-- 195 --
[figure description] Page 195.[end figure description]
to those of Mrs. Lorimer, I had rushed
to the brink of this terrible precipice!
Why did I linger on the verge?
Why, thus perilously situated, did I not
throw myself headlong? The steel was
yet in my hand. A single blow would
have pierced my heart, and shut out
from my remembrance and foresight the
past and the future?
The moment of insanity had gone
by, and I was once more myself. Instead
of regarding the act which I had
mediatated as the dietate of compassion
or of justice, it only added to the sum
of my ingratitude, and gave wings to the
whirlwind that was sent to bear me to
perdition.
Perhaps I was influenced by a sentiment
which I had not leisure to distribute
into parts. My understanding was, no
doubt, bewildered in the maze of
-- 196 --
[figure description] Page 196.[end figure description]
consequences which would spring from my act.
How should I explain my coming hither
in this murderous guise, my arm lifted
to destroy the idol of my soul, and the
darling child of my patroness? In what
words should I unfold the tale of Wiatte,
and enumerate the motives that terminated
in the present scene? What penalty
had not my infatuation and cruelty
deserved? What could I less than turn
the dagger's point against my own bosom?
A second time, the blow was thwarted
and diverted. Once more this beneficent
interposer held my arm from the perpetration
of a new iniquity. Once more
frustrated the instigations of that dæmon,
of whose malice a mysterious destiny had
consigned me to be the sport and the
prey.
Every new moment added to the sum
of my inexpiable guilt. Murder was
-- 197 --
[figure description] Page 197.[end figure description]
succeeded, in an instant, by the more
detestable enormity of suicide. She, to
whom my ingratitude was flagrant in
proportion to the benefits of which she
was the author, had now added to her
former acts, that of rescuing me from
the last of mischiefs.
I threw the weapon on the floor.
The zeal which prompted her to seize
my arm, this action occasioned to subside,
and to yield place to those emotions
which this spectacle was calculated to
excite. She watched me in silence, and
with an air of ineffable solicitude. Clarice,
governed by the instinct of modesty,
wrapt her bosom and face in the bed-clothes,
and testified her horror by vehement,
but scarcely articulate exclamations.
I moved forward, but my steps were
random and tottering. My thoughts
were fettered by reverie, and my
-- 198 --
[figure description] Page 198.[end figure description]
gesticulations destitute of meaning. My
tongue faltered without speaking, and I
felt as if life and death were struggling
within me for the mastery.
My will, indeed, was far from being
neutral in this contest. To such as I,
annihilation is the supreme good. To
shake off the ills that fasten on us by
shaking off existence, is a lot which the
system of nature has denied to man. By
escaping from life, I should be delivered
from this scene, but should only
rush into a world of retribution, and be
immersed in new agonies.
I was yet to live. No instrument of
my deliverance was within reach. I
was powerless. To rush from the presence
of these women, to hide me forever
from their scrutiny, and their upbraiding,
to snatch from their minds all traces of
the existence of Clithero, was the scope
of unutterable longings.
-- 199 --
[figure description] Page 199.[end figure description]
Urged to flight by every motive of
which my nature was susceptible, I
was yet rooted to the spot. Had the
pause been only to be interrupted by me,
it would have lasted forever.
At length, the lady, clasping her
hands and lifting them, exclaimed, in a
tone melting into pity and grief:
Clithero! what is this? How came
you hither and why?
I struggled for utterance: I came to
murder you. Your brother has perished
by my hands. Fresh from the commission
of this deed, I have hastened
hither, to perpetrate the same crime
upon you.
My brother! replied the lady, with
new vehemence, O! say not so! I have
just heard of his return from Sarsefield
and that he lives.
-- 200 --
[figure description] Page 200.[end figure description]
He is dead, repeated I, with fierceness:
I know it. It was I that killed him.
Dead! she faintly articulated, And
by thee Clithero? O! cursed chance
that hindered thee from killing me also!
Dead! Then is the omen fulfilled!
Then am I undone! Lost forever!
Her eyes now wandered from me,
and her countenance sunk into a wild and
rueful expression. Hope was utterly extinguished
in her heart, and life forsook
her at the same moment. She sunk upon
the floor pallid and breathless....
How she came into possession of this
knowledge I know not. It is possible
that Sarsefield had repented of concealment,
and, in the interval that passed
between our separation and my encounter
with Wiatte, had returned, and informed
her of the reappearance of this
miscreant
-- 201 --
[figure description] Page 201.[end figure description]
Thus then was my fate consummated.
I was rescued from destroying her by a
dagger, only to behold her perish by the
tidings which I brought. Thus was
every omen of mischief and misery fulfilled.
Thus was the enmity of Wiatte,
rendered efficacious, and the instrument
of his destruction, changed into the executioner
of his revenge.
Such is the tale of my crimes. It is
not for me to hope that the curtain of oblivion
will ever shut out the dismal spectacle.
It will haunt me forever. The
torments that grow out of it, can terminate
only with the thread of my existence,
but that I know full well will never end.
Death is but a shifting of the scene, and
the endless progress of eternity, which, to
the good, is merely the perfection of felicity,
is, to the wicked, an accumulation
of woe. The self-destroyer is his own
enemy. this has ever been my opinion.
-- 202 --
[figure description] Page 202.[end figure description]
Hitherto it has influenced my action.
Now, though the belief continues, its
influence on my conduct is annihilated.
I am no stranger to the depth of that
abyss, into which I shall plunge. No matter.
Change is precious for its own sake.
Well: I was still to live. My abode
must be somewhere fixed. My conduct
was henceforth the result of a perverse
and rebellious principle. I banished myself
forever from my native soil. I vowed
never more to behold the face of my
Clarice, to abandon my friends, my
books, all my wonted labours, and
accustomed recreations.
I was neither ashamed nor afraid. I
considered not in what way the justice of
the country would affect me. It merely
made no part of my contemplations. I
was not embarrassed by the choice of
expedients, for trammeling up the visible
consequences and for eluding
-- 203 --
[figure description] Page 203.[end figure description]
suspicion. The idea of abjuring my country,
and flying forever from the hateful scene,
partook, to my apprehension, of the vast,
the boundless, and strange: of plunging
from the height of fortune to obscurity
and indigence, corresponded with my
present state of mind. It was of a piece
with the tremendous and wonderful
events that had just happened.
These were the images that haunted
me, while I stood speechlessly gazing at
the ruin before me. I heard a noise from
without, or imagined that I heard it. My
reverie was broken, and my muscular
power restored. I descended into the
street, through doors of which I possessed
one set of keys, and hurried by
the shortest way beyond the precincts of
the city. I had laid no plan. My conceptions,
with regard to the future, were
shapeless and confused. Successive incidents
supplied me with a clue, and
-- 204 --
[figure description] Page 204.[end figure description]
suggested, as they rose, the next step to
be taken.
I threw off the garb of affluence, and
assumed a beggar's attire. That I had
money about me for the accomplishment
of my purposes was wholly accidental. I
travelled along the coast, and when I
arrived at one town, knew not why I
should go further; but my restlessness
was unabated, and change was some relief.
I at length arrived at Belfast. A vessel
was preparing for America. I embraced
eagerly the opportunity of passing into a
new world. I arrived at Philadelphia.
As soon as I landed I wandered hither,
and was content to wear out my few
remaining days in the service of Inglefield.
I have no friends. Why should I
trust my story to another? I have no
solicitude about concealment; but who is
there who will derive pleasure or benefit
-- 205 --
[figure description] Page 205.[end figure description]
from my rehearsal? And why should I
expatiate on so hateful a theme? Yet now
have I consented to this. I have confided
in you the history of my disasters. I am
not fearful of the use that you may be disposed
to make of it. I shall quickly set
myself beyond the reach of human tribunals.
I shall relieve the ministers of law
from the trouble of punishing. The
recent events which induced you to summon
me to this conference, have likewise
determined me to make this disclosure.
I was not aware, for some time, of my
perturbed sleep. No wonder that sleep
cannot soothe miseries like mine: that I
am alike infested by memory in wakefulness
and slumber. Yet I was anew distressed
at the discovery that my thoughts
found their way to my lips, without my
being conscious of it, and that my steps
-- 206 --
[figure description] Page 206.[end figure description]
wandered forth unknowingly and without
the guidance of my will.
The story you have told is not incredible.
The disaster to which you allude
did not fail to excite my regret. I can
still weep over the untimely fall of youth
and worth. I can no otherwise account
for my frequenting this shade than by
the distant resemblance which the death
of this man bore to that of which I was
the perpetrator. This resemblance occurred
to me at first. If time were able
to weaken the impression which was produced
by my crime, this similitude was
adapted to revive and inforce them.
The wilderness, and the cave to
which you followed me, were familiar
to my sunday rambles. Often have I
indulged in audible griefs on the cliffs
of that valley. Often have I brooded
over my sorrows in the recesses of that
cavern. This scene is adapted to my
-- 207 --
[figure description] Page 207.[end figure description]
temper. Its mountainous asperities supply
me with images of desolation and
seclusion, and its headlong streams lull
me into temporary forgetfulness of mankind.
I comprehend you. You suspect me
of concern in the death of Waldegrave.
You could not do otherwise. The conduct
that you have witnessed was that
of a murderer. I will not upbraid you
for your suspicions, though I have
bought exemption from them at an
high price.
-- 208 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER IX.
[figure description] Page 208.[end figure description]
There ended his narrative.
He started from the spot where he stood,
and, without affording me any opportunity
of replying or commenting, disappeared
amidst the thickest of the wood.
I had no time to exert myself for his
detention. I could have used no arguments
for this end, to which it is probable
he would have listened. The story
I had heard was too extraordinary, too
completely the reverse of all my expectations,
to allow me to attend to the
intimations of self-murder which he
dropped.
-- 209 --
[figure description] Page 209.[end figure description]
The secret, which I imagined was
about to be disclosed, was as inscrutable
as ever. Not a circumstance, from the
moment when Clithero's character became
the subject of my meditations, till
the conclusion of his tale, but served to
confirm my suspicion. Was this error
to be imputed to credulity? Would not
any one, from similar appearances, have
drawn similar conclusions? Or is there
a criterion by which truth can always
be distinguished. Was it owing to my
imperfect education that the inquietudes
of this man were not traced to a deed
performed at the distance of a thousand
leagues, to the murder of his patroness
and friend?
I had heard a tale which apparently
related to scenes and persons far distant,
but though my suspicions have appeared
to have been misplaced, what should
hinder but that the death of my friend
-- 210 --
[figure description] Page 210.[end figure description]
was, in like manner, an act of momentary
insanity and originated in a like spirit of
mistaken benevolence?
But I did not consider this tale
merely in relation to myself. My life
had been limited and uniform. I had
communed with romancers and historians,
but the impression made upon me
by this incident was unexampled in
my experience. My reading had furnished
me with no instance, in any
degree, parallel to this, and I found that
to be a distant and second-hand spectator
of events was widely different
from witnessing them myself and partaking
in their consequences. My judgement
was, for a time, sunk into imbecility
and confusion. My mind was full
of the images unavoidably suggested by
this tale, but they existed in a kind of
chaos, and not otherwise, than gradually,
was I able to reduce them to distinct
-- 211 --
[figure description] Page 211.[end figure description]
particulars, and subject them to a deliberate
and methodical inspection.
How was I to consider this act of
Clithero? What a deplorable infatuation!
Yet it was the necessary result of a series
of ideas mutually linked and connected.
His conduct was dictated by a motive
allied to virtue. It was the fruit of an
ardent and grateful spirit.
The death of Wiatte could not be
censured. The life of Clithero was
unspeakably more valuable than that of
his antagonist. It was the instinct of
self-preservation that swayed him. He
knew not his adversary in time enough,
to govern himself by that knowledge.
Had the assailant been an unknown
ruffian, his death would have been followed
by no remorse. The spectacle
of his dying agonies would have dwelt
upon the memory of his assassin like any
-- 212 --
[figure description] Page 212.[end figure description]
other mournful sight, in the production
of which he bore no part.
It must at least be said that his will
was not concerned in this transaction.
He acted in obedience to an impulse
which he could not controul, nor resist.
Shall we impute guilt where there is no
design? Shall a man extract food for
self-reproach from an action to which it
is not enough to say that he was actuated
by no culpable intention, but that he was
swayed by no intention whatever? If
consequences arise that cannot be foreseen,
shall we find no refuge in the persuasion
of our rectitude and of human
frailty? Shall we deem ourselves criminal
because we do not enjoy the attributes
of deity? Because our power and
our knowledge are confined by impassable
boundaries?
But whence arose the subsequent
intention? It was the fruit of a dreadful
-- 213 --
[figure description] Page 213.[end figure description]
mistake. His intents were noble and
compassionate. But this is of no avail
to free him from the imputation of guilt.
No remembrance of past beneficence
can compensate for this crime. The
scale, loaded with the recriminations of
his conscience, is immovable by any
counter-weight.
But what are the conclusions to be
drawn by dispassionate observers? Is it
possible to regard this person with disdain
or with enmity? The crime originated
in those limitations which nature
has imposed upon human faculties.
Proofs of a just intention are all that
are requisite to exempt us from blame.
He is thus in consequence of a double
mistake. The light in which he views
this event is erroneous. He judges
wrong and is therefore miserable.
How imperfect are the grounds of
all our decisions? Was it of no use to
-- 214 --
[figure description] Page 214.[end figure description]
superintend his childhood, to select his
instructors and examples, to mark the
operations of his principles, to see him
emerging into youth, to follow him
through various scenes and trying vicissitudes,
and mark the uniformity of his
integrity? Who would have predicted
his future conduct? Who would not
have affirmed the impossibility of an
action like this?
How mysterious was the connection
between the fate of Wiatte and his sister!
By such circuitous, and yet infalible
means, were the prediction of the
lady and the vengeance of the brother
accomplished! In how many cases may
it be said, as in this, that the prediction
was the cause of its own fulfilment?
That the very act, which considerate
observers, and even himself, for
a time, imagined to have utterly precluded
the execution of Wiatte's menaces,
-- 215 --
[figure description] Page 215.[end figure description]
should be that inevitably leading to it.
That the execution should be assigned
to him, who, abounding in abhorrence,
and in the act of self-defence, was the
slayer of the menacer.
As the obstructor of his designs,
Wiatte way-laid and assaulted Clithero.
He perished in the attempt. Were his
designs frustrated?...No, It was thus
that he secured the gratification of his
vengeance. His sister was cut off in the
bloom of life and prosperity. By a refinement
of good fortune, the voluntary
minister of his malice had entailed upon
himself exile without reprieve and misery
without end.
But what chiefly excited my wonder
was the connection of this tale with the
destiny of Sarsefield. This was he
whom I have frequently mentioned to
you as my preceptor. About four years
previous to this era, he appeared in this
-- 216 --
[figure description] Page 216.[end figure description]
district without fortune or friend. He
desired, one evening, to be accomodated
at my uncle's house. The conversation
turning on the objects of his journey,
and his present situation, he professed
himself in search of lucrative employment.
My uncle proposed to him to
become a teacher, there being a sufficient
number of young people in this
neighbourhood to afford him occupation
and subsistence. He found it his interest
to embrace this proposal.
I, of course, became his pupil, and
demeaned myself in such a manner as
speedily to grow into a favourite. He
communicated to us no part of his early
history, but informed us sufficiently of
his adventures in Asia and Italy, to
make it plain that this was the same
person alluded to by Clithero. During
his abode among us his conduct was
irreproachable. When he left us, he
-- 217 --
[figure description] Page 217.[end figure description]
manifested the most poignant regret, but
this originated chiefly in his regard to
me. He promised to maintain with me
an epistolary intercourse. Since his
departure, however, I had heard nothing
respecting him. It was with unspeakable
regret that I now heard of the disappointment
of his hopes, and was inquisitive
respecting the measures which he
would adopt in his new situation. Perhaps
he would once more return to America,
and I should again be admitted to
the enjoyment of his society. This event
I anticipated with the highest satisfaction.
At present, the fate of the unhappy
Clithero was the subject of abundant anxiety.
On his suddenly leaving me, at the
conclusion of his tale, I supposed that
he had gone upon one of his usual rambles,
and that it would terminate only
with the day. Next morning a message
-- 218 --
[figure description] Page 218.[end figure description]
was received from Inglefield inquiring if
any one knew what had become of his
servant. I could not listen to this message
with tranquility. I recollected the hints
that he had given of some design upon
his life, and admitted the most dreary
forebodings. I speeded to Inglefield's.
Clithero had not returned, they told me,
the preceding evening. He had not
apprized them of any intention to change
his abode. His boxes, and all that composed
his slender property, were found
in their ordinary state. He had expressed
no dissatisfaction with his present condition.
Several days passed, and no tidings
could be procured of him. His absence
was a topic of general speculation, but
was a source of particular anxiety to no
one but myself. My apprehensions
were surely built upon sufficient grounds.
From the moment that we parted, no one
-- 219 --
[figure description] Page 219.[end figure description]
had seen or heard of him. What mode
of suicide he had selected, he had disabled
us from discovering, by the impenetrable
secrecy in which he had involved
it.
In the midst of my reflections upon
this subject, the idea of the wilderness
occurred. Could he have executed his
design in the deepest of its recesses?
These were unvisited by human foot-steps,
and his bones might lie for ages
in this solitude without attracting observation.
To seek them where they lay,
to gather them together and provide for
them a grave, was a duty which appeared
incumbent on me, and of which the performance
was connected with a thousand
habitual sentiments and mixed pleasures.
Thou knowest my devotion to the
spirit that breathes its inspiration in the
gloom of forests and on the verge of
-- 220 --
[figure description] Page 220.[end figure description]
streams. I love to immerse myself in
shades and dells, and hold converse with
the solemnities and secrecies of nature
in the rude retreats of Norwalk. The
disappearance of Clithero had furnished
new incitements to ascend its cliffs and
pervade its thickets, as I cherished the
hope of meeting in my rambles, with
some traces of this man. But might he
not still live? His words had imparted
the belief that he intended to destroy himself.
This catastrophe, however, was
far from certain. Was it not in my power
to avert it? Could I not restore a mind
thus vigorous, to tranquil and wholesome
existence? Could I not subdue his perverse
disdain and immeasurable abhorrence
of himself. His upbraiding and his
scorn were unmerited and misplaced.
Perhaps they argued phrensy rather than
prejudice; but phrensy, like prejudice,
was curable. Reason was no less an
-- 221 --
[figure description] Page 221.[end figure description]
antidote to the illusions of insanity like
his, than to the illusions of error.
I did not immediately recollect that
to subsist in this desert was impossible.
Nuts were the only fruits it produced, and
these were inadequate to sustain human
life. If it were haunted by Clithero, he
must occasionally pass its limits and beg
or purloin victuals. This deportment
was too humiliating and flagitious to be
imputed to him. There was reason to
suppose him smitten with the charms of
solitude, of a lonely abode in the midst of
mountainous and rugged nature; but this
could not be uninterruptedly enjoyed.
Life could be supported only by occasionally
visiting the haunts of men, in the
guise of a thief or a mendicant. Hence,
since Clithero was not known to have
reappeared, at any farm-house in the
neighbourhood, I was compelled to
-- 222 --
[figure description] Page 222.[end figure description]
conclude, either that he had retired far from
this district, or that he was dead.
Though I designed that my leisure
should chiefly be consumed in the bosom
of Norwalk. I almost dismissed the hope
of meeting with the fugitive. There
were indeed two sources of my hopelessness
on this occasion. Not only it was
probable that Clithero had fled far away,
but, should he have concealed himself
in some nook or cavern, within these
precincts, his concealment was not to be
traced. This arose from the nature of
that sterile region.
It would not be easy to describe the
face of this district, in a few words. Half
of Solebury, thou knowest, admits neither
of plough nor spade. The cultivable
space lies along the river, and the desert,
lying on the north, has gained, by some
means, the apellation of Norwalk. Canst
thou imagine a space, somewhat circular,
-- 223 --
[figure description] Page 223.[end figure description]
about six miles in diameter, and exhibiting
a perpetual and intricate variety of
craggy eminences and deep dells.
The hollows are single, and walled
around by cliffs, ever varying in shape
and height, and have seldom any perceptible
communication with each other.
These hollows are of all dimensions,
from the narrowness and depth of a well,
to the amplitude of one hundred yards.
Winter's snow is frequently found in
these cavities at mid-summer. The
streams that burst forth from every crevice,
are thrown, by the irregularities of
the surface, into numberless cascades,
often disappear in mists or in chasms,
and emerge from subterranean channels,
and, finally, either subside into lakes, or
quietly meander through the lower and
more level grounds.
-- 224 --
[figure description] Page 224.[end figure description]
Wherever nature left a flat it is made
rugged and scarcely passable by enormous
and fallen trunks, accumulated by
the storms of ages, and forming, by their
slow decay, a moss-covered soil, the
haunt of rabbets and lizards. These
spots are obscured by the melancholy
umbrage of pines, whose eternal murmurs
are in unison with vacancy and
solitude, with the reverberations of the
torrents and the whistling of the blasts.
Hiccory and poplar, which abound in
the low-lands, find here no fostering
elements.
A sort of continued vale, winding and
abrupt, leads into the midst of this region
and throught it. This vale serves the
purpose of a road. It is a tedious maze,
and perpetual declivity, and requires,
from the passenger, a cautious and sure
foot. Openings and ascents occasionally
present themselves on each side,
-- 225 --
[figure description] Page 225.[end figure description]
which seem to promise you access to the
interior region, but always terminate,
sooner or later, in insuperable difficulties,
at the verge of a precipice, or the
bottom of a steep.
Perhaps no one was more acquainted
with this wilderness than I, but my
knowledge was extremely imperfect. I
had traversed parts of it, at an early
age, in pursuit of berries and nuts, or
led by a roaming disposition. Afterwards
the sphere of my rambles was
enlarged and their purpose changed.
When Sarsefield came among us, I became
his favourite scholar and the companion
of all his pedestrian excursions.
He was fond of penetrating into these
recesses, partly from the love of picturesque
scenes, partly to investigate its
botanical and mineral productions, and,
partly to carry on more effectually that
species of instruction which he had
-- 226 --
[figure description] Page 226.[end figure description]
adopted with regard to me, and which
chiefly consisted in moralizing narratives
or synthetical reasonings. These excursions
had familiarized me with its
outlines and most accessible parts; but
there was much which, perhaps, could
never be reached without wings, and
much the only paths to which I might
forever overlook.
Every new excursion indeed added
somewhat to my knowledge. New tracks
were pursued, new prospects detected,
and new summits were gained. My
rambles were productive of incessant
novelty, though they always terminated
in the prospect of limits that could not
be overleaped. But none of these had
led me wider from my customary paths
than that which had taken place when
in pursuit of Clithero. I had faint remembrance
of the valley, into which I
had descended after him, but till then
-- 227 --
[figure description] Page 227.[end figure description]
I had viewed it at a distance, and supposed
it impossible to reach the bottom
but by leaping from a precipice some
hundred feet in height. The opposite
steep seemed no less inaccessible, and
the cavern at the bottom was impervious
to any views which my former positions
had enabled me to take of it.
My attention to re-examine this cave
and ascertain whither it led, had, for a
time, been suspended by different considerations.
It was now revived with
more energy than ever. I reflected that
this had formerly been haunted by Clithero,
and might possibly have been the
scene of the desperate act which he had
meditated. It might at least conceal some
token of his past existence. It might
lead into spaces hitherto unvisited, and
to summits from which wider landscapes
might be seen.
-- 228 --
[figure description] Page 228.[end figure description]
One morning I set out to explore this
scene. The road which Clithero had
taken was laboriously circuitous. On
my return from the first pursuit of him,
I ascended the cliff in my former footsteps,
but soon lighted on the beaten
track which I had already described.
This enabled me to shun a thousand
obstacles, which had lately risen before
me, and opened an easy passage to the
cavern.
I once more traversed this way.
The brow of the hill was gained. The
ledges of which it consisted, afforded
sufficient footing, when the attempt was
made, though viewed at a distance they
seemed to be too narrow for that purpose.
As I descended the rugged stair,
I could not but wonder at the temerity
and precipitation with which this descent
had formerly been made. It seemed if
the noon-day-light and the tardiest
-- 229 --
[figure description] Page 229.[end figure description]
circumspection would scarcely enable me
to accomplish it, yet then it had been
done with headlong speed, and with no
guidance but the moon's uncertain rays.
I reached the mouth of the cave.
Till now I had forgotten that a lamp or
a torch might be neccessary to direct
my subterranean foot-steps. I was unwilling
to defer the attempt. Light might
possibly be requisite, if the cave had no
other outlet. Somewhat might present
itself within to the eyes, which might
forever elude the hands, but I was more
inclined to consider it merely as an avenue,
terminating in an opening on the
summit of the steep, or on the opposite
side of the ridge. Caution might supply
the place of light, or, having explored
the cave as far as possible at present, I
might hereafter return, better furnished
for the scrutiny.
-- 230 --
EDGAR HUNTLY. CHAPTER X.
[figure description] Page 230.[end figure description]
With these determinations, I
proceeded. The entrance was low, and
compelled me to resort to hands as well
as feet. At a few yards from the mouth
the light disappeared, and I found myself
immersed in the dunnest obscurity.
Had I not been persuaded that another
had gone before me, I should have relinquished
the attempt. I proceeded
with the utmost caution, always ascertaining,
by out-stretched arms, the height
and breadth of the cavity before me. In
a short time the dimensions expanded on
-- 231 --
[figure description] Page 231.[end figure description]
all sides, and permitted me to resume
my feet.
I walked upon a smooth and gentle
declivity. Presently the wall, on one
side, and the ceiling receded beyond my
reach. I began to fear that I should be
involved in a maze, and should be disabled
from returning. To obviate this
danger it was requisite to adhere to
the nearest wall, and conform to the
direction which it should take, without
straying through the palpable obscurity.
Whether the ceiling was lofty or low,
whether the opposite wall of the passage
was distant or near, this, I deemed no
proper opportunity to investigate.
In a short time, my progress was
stopped by an abrupt descent. I set
down the advancing foot with caution,
being aware that I might at the next step
encounter a bottomless pit. To the brink
-- 232 --
[figure description] Page 232.[end figure description]
of such an one I seemed now to have arrived.
I stooped, and stretched my hand
forward and downward, but all was
vacuity.
Here it was needful to pause. I
had reached the brink of a cavity whose
depth it was impossible to ascertain. It
might be a few inches beyond my
reach, or hundreds of feet. By leaping
down I might incur no injury, or might
plunge into a lake or dash myself to
pieces on the points of rocks.
I now saw with new force the propriety
of being furnished with a light. The
first suggestion was to return upon my
foot-steps, and resume my undertaking
on the morrow. Yet, having advanced
thus far, I felt reluctance to recede without
accomplishing my purposes. I reflected
likewise that Clithero had boldy
entered this recess, and had certainly
-- 233 --
[figure description] Page 233.[end figure description]
came forth at a different avenue from
that at which he entered.
At length it occurred to me, that
though I could not go forward, yet
I might proceed along the edge of this
cavity. This edge would be as safe a
guidance, and would serve as well for
a clue by which I might return, as the
wall which it was now necessary to forsake.
Intense dark is always the parent of
fears. Impending injuries cannot in this
state be descried, nor shunned, nor repelled.
I began to feel some faltering of
my courage and seated myself, for a few
minutes, on a stoney mass which arose
before me. My situation was new. The
caverns I had hitherto met with, in this
desert, were chiefly formed of low-browed
rocks. They were chambers, more or
less spacious, into which twi-light was
at least admitted; but here it seemed as
-- 234 --
[figure description] Page 234.[end figure description]
if I was surrounded by barriers that
would forever cut off my return to air
and to light.
Presently I resumed my courage and
proceeded. My road appeared now to
ascend. On one side I seemed still upon
the verge of a precipice, and, on the
other, all was empty and waste. I had
gone no inconsiderable distance, and
persuaded myself that my career would
speedily terminate. In a short time, the
space on the left hand, was again occupied,
and I cautiously proceeded between
the edge of the gulf and a rugged wall.
As the space between them widened I
adhered to the wall.
I was not insensible that my path
became more intricate and more difficult
to retread in proportion as I advanced.
I endeavoured to preserve a vivid conception
of the way which I had already
passed, and to keep the images of the
-- 235 --
[figure description] Page 235.[end figure description]
left, and right-hand wall, and the gulf, in
due succession in my memory.
The path which had hitherto been
considerably smooth, now became rugged
and steep. Chilling damps, the
secret trepidation which attended me,
the length and difficulties of my way,
enhanced by the ceaseless caution and
the numerous expedients which the utter
darkness obliged me to employ, began
to overpower my strength. I was frequently
compelled to stop and recruit
myself by rest. These respites from
toil were of use, but they could not enable
me to prosecute an endless journey,
and to return was scarcely a less arduous
task than to proceed.
I looked anxiously forward in the
hope of being comforted by some dim
ray, which might assure me that my
labours were approaching an end. At
last this propitious token appeared, and
-- 236 --
[figure description] Page 236.[end figure description]
I issued forth into a kind of chamber,
one side of which was open to the air
and allowed me to catch a portion of
the checquered sky. This spectacle
never before excited such exquisite sensations
in my bosom. The air, likewise,
breathed into the cavern, was unspeakably
delicious.
I now found myself on the projecture
of a rock. Above and below the
hill-side was nearly perpendicular. Opposite,
and at the distance of fifteen or
twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At
the bottom was a glen, cold, narrow and
obscure. The projecture, which served
as a kind of vestibule to the cave, was
connected with a ledge, by which, though
not without peril and toil, I was conducted
to the summit.
This summit was higher than any
of those which were interposed between
itself and the river. A large part of
this chaos of rocks and precipices was
-- 237 --
[figure description] Page 237.[end figure description]
sujected, at one view, to the eye. The
fertile lawns and vales which lay beyond
this, the winding course of the river,
and the slopes which rose on its farther
side, were parts of this extensive scene.
These objects were at any time fitted to
inspire rapture. Now my delight was
enhanced by the contrast which this
lightsome and serene element bore to
the glooms from which I had lately
emerged. My station, also, was higher,
and the limits of my view, consequently
more ample than any which I had
hitherto enjoyed.
I advanced to the outer verge of the
hill, which I found to overlook a steep,
no less inaccessible, and a glen equally
profound. I changed frequently my
station in order to diversify the scenery.
At length it became necessary to inquire
by what means I should return. I traversed
the edge of the hill, but on every
side it was equally steep and always too
-- 238 --
[figure description] Page 238.[end figure description]
lofty to permit me to leap from it. As
I kept along the verge, I perceived that
it tended in a circular direction, and
brought me back, at last, to the spot
from which I had set out. From this
inspection, it seemed as if return was
impossible by any other way than that
through the cavern.
I now turned my attention to the
interior space. If you imagine a cylindrical
mass, with a cavity dug in the
centre, whose edge conforms to the exterior
edge; and, if you place in this
cavity another cylinder, higher than that
which surrounds it, but so small as to
leave between its sides and those of the
cavity, an hollow space, you will gain as
distinct an image of this hill as words
can convey. The summit of the inner
rock was rugged and covered with trees
of unequal growth. To reach this summit
would not render my return easier;
but its greater elevation would extend
-- 239 --
[figure description] Page 239.[end figure description]
my view, and perhaps furnish a spot
from which the whole horizon was conspicuous.
As I had traversed the outer, I now
explored the inner edge of this hill. At
length I reached a spot where the chasm,
separating the two rocks, was narrower
than at any other part. At first view, it
seemed as if it were possible to leap over
it, but a nearer examination shewed me
that the passage was impracticable. So
far as my eye could estimate it, the
breadth was thirty or forty feet. I could
scarcely venture to look beneath. The
height was dizzy, and the walls, which
approached each other at top, receded
at the bottom, so as to form the resemblance
of an immense hall, lighted from
a rift, which some convulsion of nature
had made in the roof. Where I stood
there ascended a perpetual mist,
-- 240 --
[figure description] Page 240.[end figure description]
occasioned by a torrent that dashed along the
rugged pavement below.
From these objects I willingly turned
my eye upon those before and above
me, on the opposite ascent. A stream,
rushing from above, fell into a cavity,
which its own force seemed gradually to
have made. The noise and the motion
equally attracted my attention. There
was a desolate and solitary grandeur in
the scene, enhanced by the circumstances
in which it was beheld, and by the perils
through which I had recently passed, that
had never before been witnessed by me.
A sort of sanctity and awe environed
it, owing to the consciousness of absolute
and utter loneliness. It was probable
that human feet had never before
gained this recess, that human eyes had
never been fixed upon these gushing
waters. The aboriginal inhabitants had
no motives to lead them into caves like
-- 241 --
[figure description] Page 241.[end figure description]
this, and ponder on the verge of such a
precipice. Their successors were still
less likely to have wandered hither. Since
the birth of this continent, I was probably
the first who had deviated thus remotely
from the customary paths of men.
While musing upon these ideas, my
eye was fixed upon the foaming current.
At length, I looked upon the rocks which
confined and embarrassed its course. I
admired their phantastic shapes, and endless
irregularities. Passing from one to
the other of these, my attention lighted,
at length, as if by some magical transition,
on.....an human countenance!
My surprise was so abrupt, and my
sensations so tumultuous that I forgot
for a moment the perilous nature of my
situation. I loosened my hold of a pine
branch, which had been hitherto one of
my supports, and almost started from my
seat. Had my station been, in a slight
-- 242 --
[figure description] Page 242.[end figure description]
degree nearer the brink than it was, I
should have fallen headlong into the
abyss.
To meet an human creature, even on
that side of the chasm which I occupied,
would have been wholly adverse to my
expectation. My station was accessible
by no other road than that through which
I had passed, and no motives were imaginable
by which others could be prompted
to explore this road. But he whom
I now beheld, was seated where it
seemed impossible for human efforts to
have placed him....
But this affected me but little in
comparison with other incidents. Not
only the countenance was human, but
in spite of shaggy and tangled locks,
and an air of melancholy wildness, I
speedily recognized the features of the
fugitive Clithero?
-- 243 --
[figure description] Page 243.[end figure description]
One glance was not sufficient to
make me acquainted with this scene. I
had come hither partly in pursuit of this
man, but some casual appendage of his
person, something which should indicate
his past rather than his present existence,
was all that I hoped to find. That he
should be found alive in this desert; that
he should have gained this summit, access
to which was apparently impossible, were
scarcely within the boundaries of belief.
His scanty and coarse garb, had been
nearly rent away by brambles and thorns,
his arms, bosom and cheek were overgrown
and half-concealed by hair. There
was somewhat in his attitude and looks
denoting more than anarchy of thoughts
and passions. His rueful, ghastly, and
immoveable eyes, testified not only that
his mind was ravaged by despair, but
that he was pinched with famine.
-- 244 --
[figure description] Page 244.[end figure description]
These proofs of his misery thrilled
to my inmost heart. Horror and shuddering
invaded me as I stood gazing
upon him, and, for a time, I was without
the power of deliberating on the measures
which it was my duty to adopt
for his relief. The first suggestion was,
by calling, to inform him of my presence.
I knew not what counsel or comfort to
offer. By what words to bespeak his
attention, or by what topics to molify his
direful passions I knew not. Though
so near, the gulf by which we were separated
was impassable. All that I could
do was to speak.
My surprise and my horror were still
strong enough to give a shrill and
piercing tone to my voice. The chasm
and the rocks loudened and reverberated
my accents while I exclaimed.....
Man! Clithero!
My summons was effectual. He
shook off his trance in a moment. He
-- 245 --
[figure description] Page 245.[end figure description]
had been stretched upon his back, with
his eyes fixed upon a craggy projecture
above, as if he were in momentary expectation
of its fall, and crushing him to
atoms. Now he started on his feet. He
was conscious of the voice, but not of
the quarter whence it came. He was
looking anxiously around when I again
spoke.....Look hither: It is I who called
He looked. Astonishment was now
mingled with every other dreadful meaning
in his visage. He clasped his hands
together and bent forward, as if to satisfy
himself that his summoner was real. At
the next moment he drew back, placed
his hands upon his breast, and fixed his
eyes on the ground
This pause was not likely to be broken
but by me. I was preparing again
to speak. To be more distinctly heard,
I advanced closer to the brink. During
this action, my eye was necessarily
withdrawn from him. Having gained a
-- 246 --
[figure description] Page 246.[end figure description]
somewhat nearer station, I looked again,
but....he was gone!
The seat which he so lately occupied
was empty. I was not forewarned of
his disappearance, or directed to the
course of his flight by any rustling
among leaves. These indeed would
have been overpowered by the noise of
the cataract. The place where he sat was
the bottom of a cavity, one side of which
terminated in the verge of the abyss, but
the other sides were perpendicular or
overhanging. Surely he had not leaped
into this gulf, and yet that he had so
speedily scaled the steep was impossible.
I looked into the gulf, but the depth
and the gloom allowed me to see nothing
with distinctness. His cries or groans
could not be overhead amidst the uproar
of the waters. His fall must have instantly
destroyed him, and that he had
fallen was the only conclusion I could
draw.
-- 247 --
[figure description] Page 247.[end figure description]
My sensations on this incident cannot
be easily described. The image of
this man's despair, and of the sudden
catastrophe to which my inauspicious
interference had led, filled me with compunction
and terror. Some of my fears
were relieved by the new conjecture,
that, behind the rock on which he had
lain, there might be some aperture or
pit into which he had descended, or in
which he might be concealed.
I derived consolation from this conjecture.
Not only the evil which I
dreaded might not have happened, but
some alleviation of his misery was possible.
Could I arrest his foot-steps and
win his attention, I might be able to
insinuate the lessons of fortitude; but if
words were impotent, and arguments
were nugatory, yet to set by him in
silence, to moisten his hand with tears,
to sigh in unison, to offer him the spectacle
of sympathy, the solace of
-- 248 --
[figure description] Page 248.[end figure description]
believing that his demerits were not estimated
by so rigid a standard by others as by
himself, that one at least among his fellow
men regarded him with love and
pity, could not fail to be of benign
influence.
These thoughts inspired me with
new zeal. To effect my purpose it was
requisite to reach the opposite steep. I
was now convinced that this was not an
impracticable undertaking, since Clithero
had already performed it. I once more
made the circuit of the hill. Every side
was steep and of enormous height, and
the gulf was no where so narrow as at
this spot. I therefore returned hither,
and once more pondered on the means of
passing this tremendous chasm in safety.
Casting my eyes upward, I noted the
tree at the root of which I was standing.
I compared the breadth of the gulf with
the length of the trunk of this tree, and
it appeared very suitable for a bridge.
-- 249 --
[figure description] Page 249.[end figure description]
Happily it grew obliquely, and, if felled
by an axe, would probably fall of itself,
in such a manner as to be suspended
across the chasm. The stock was thick
enough to afford me footing, and would
enable me to reach the opposite declivity
without danger or delay.
A more careful examination of the
spot, the scite of the tree, its dimensions
and the direction of its growth convinced
me fully of the practicability of this expedient,
and I determined to carry it
into immediate execution. For this end
I must hasten home, procure an axe, and
return with all expedition hither. I took
my former way, once more entered the
subterranean avenue, and slowly re-emerged
into day. Before I reached
home, the evening was at hand, and my
tired limbs and jaded spirits obliged me
to defer my undertaking till the morrow.
Though my limbs were at rest, my
thoughts were active through the night.
-- 250 --
[figure description] Page 250.[end figure description]
I carefully reviewed the situation of this
hill, and was unable to conjecture by
what means Clithero could place himself
upon it. Unless he occasionally
returned to the habitable grounds, it was
impossible for him to escape perishing by
famine. He might intend to destroy himself
by this means, and my first efforts
were to be employed to overcome this
fatal resolution. To persuade him to
leave his desolate haunts might be a laborious
and tedious task, meanwhile all
my benevolent intentions would be frustrated
by his want of sustenance. It was
proper, therefore, to carry bread with
me, and to place it before him. The
sight of food, the urgencies of hunger,
and my vehement intreaties might prevail
on him to eat, though no expostulation
might suffice to make him seek food
at a distance.
END OF VOL. I.
Back matter
-- --
[figure description] Blank Leaf.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Blank Leaf.[end figure description]
Brown, Charles Brockden, 1771-1810 [1799], Edgar Huntly, volume 1 (H. Maxwell, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf028v1].
