CHAPTER XXXIII.
Though I had consented to this scheme, I was conscious
that some hazards attended it. I was afraid of calumny,
which might trouble the peace or destroy the reputation of
my friend. I was afraid of my own weakness, which might
be seduced into an indiscreet marriage, by the charms or
sufferings of this bewitching creature. I felt that there
was no price too dear to save her from slander. A fair fame
is of the highest importance to a young female, and the loss
of it but poorly supplied by the testimony of her own conscience.
I had reason for tenfold solicitude on this account,
since I was her only protector and friend. Hence, I cherished
some hopes, that time might change her views, and
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suggest less dangerous schemes. Meanwhile, I was to lose
no time in visiting Malverton and Philip Hadwin.
About ten days had elasped since we had deserted Malverton.
These were days of successive storms, and travelling
had been rendered inconvenient. The weather was
now calm and clear, and, early in the morning that ensued
the dialogue which I have just related, I set out on horseback.
Honest Caleb was found, eating his breakfast nearly in the
spot where he had been first discovered. He answered
my inquiries by saying, that, two days after our departure,
several men had come to the house, one of whom was
Philip Hadwin. They had interrogated him as to the condition
of the farm, and the purpose of his remaining on it.
William Hadwin they knew to have been sometime dead,
but where were the girls, his daughters?
Caleb answered that Susy, the eldest, was likewise dead.
These tidings excited astonishment. When died she,
and how, and where was she buried?
It happened two days before, and she was buried, he believed,
but could not tell where.
Not tell where? By whom then was she buried?
Really he could not tell. Some strange man came there
just as she was dying. He went to the room, and when
she was dead, took her away, but what he did with the
body, was more than he could say, but he had a notion
that he buried it. The man stayed till the morning, and then
went off with Lizzy, leaving him to keep house by himself.
He had not seen either of them, nor indeed, a single
soul since.
This was all the information that Caleb could afford the
visitants. It was so lame and incredible, that they began to
charge the man with falsehood, and to threaten him with
legal animadversion. Just then, Mr. Ellis entered the house,
and being made acquainted with the subject of discourse,
told all that he himself knew. He related the midnight
visit which I had paid him, explained my former situation
in the family, and my disappearance in September. He
stated the advice he had given me to carry Eliza to her
uncle's and my promise to comply with his counsel. The
uncle declared he had seen nothing of his niece, and Caleb
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added, that when she set out, she took the road that led
to town.
These hints afforded grounds for much conjecture and
suspicion. Ellis now mentioned some intelligence that he
had gathered respecting me in a late journey to—. It
seems I was the son of an honest farmer in that quarter, who
who married a tidy girl of a milk-maid, that lived with him.
My father had detected me in making some atrocious advances
to my mother in law, and had turned me out of
doors. I did not go off, however, without rifling his drawer
of some hundreds of dollars, which he had laid up against
a rainy day. I was noted for such pranks, and was hated
by all the neighbors for my pride and laziness. It was easy,
by comparison of circumstances, for Ellis to ascertain that
Hadwin's servant Mervyn, was the same against whom such
hearty charges were laid.
Previously to this journey, he had heard of me from Hadwin,
who was loud in praise of my diligence, sobriety and
modesty. For his part, he had always been cautious of
giving countenance to vegrants, that came from nobody
knew where, and worked their way with a plausible tongue.
He was not surprised to hear it whispered that Betsey Hadwin
had fallen in love with the youth, and now, no doubt,
he had persuaded her to run away with him. The heiress
of a fine farm was a prize not to be met with every day.
Philip broke into rage at this news; swore that if it turned
out so, his niece should starve upon the town, and that he
would take good care to baulk the lad. His brother he well
knew had left a will, to which he was executor, and that this
will, would in good time, be forth coming. After much
talk and ransacking the house, and swearing at his truant
niece, he and his company departed, charging Caleb to
keep the house and its contents for his use. This was all
that Caleb's memory had retained of that day's proceedings.
Curling had lately commented on the character of Philip
Hadwin. This man was totally unlike his brother, was a
noted brawler and bully, a tyrant to his children, a plague
to his neighbors, and kept a rendezvous for drunkards and
idlers, at the sign of the Bull's Head, at —. He
was not destitute of parts, and was no less dreaded for cunning
than malignity. He was covetous, and never missed
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an opportunity of overreaching his neighbor. There was no
doubt that his niece's property would be embezzled, should
it ever come into his hands, and any power which he might
obtain over her person, would be exercised to her destruction.
His children were tainted with the dissoluteness of
their father, and marriage had not repaired the reputation
of his daughters, or cured them of depravity; this was the
man whom I now proposed to visit.
I scarcely need to say that the calumny of Betty Lawrence
gave me no uneasiness. My father had no doubt
been deceived, as well as my father's neighbors, by the artifices
of this woman. I passed among them for a thief and
a profligate, but their error had hitherto been harmless to
me. The time might come which should confute the tale,
without my efforts. Betty, sooner or later, would drop her
mask, and afford the antidote to her own poisons, unless
some new incident should occur to make me hasten the
catastrophe.
I arrived at Hadwin's house. I was received with some
attention as a guest. I looked among the pimpled visages
that filled the piazza, for that of the landlord, but found him
in an inner apartment with two or three more, seated round
a table. On intimating my wish to speak with him alone,
the others withdrew.
Hadwin's visage had some traces of resemblance to his
brother; but the meek, placid air, pale cheeks and slender
form of the latter, were powerfully contrasted with the
bloated arrogance, imperious brow and robust limbs of the
former. This man's rage was awakened by a straw; it
impelled him in an instant to oaths and buffetings, and made
his life an eternal brawl. The sooner my interview with
such a personage should be at an end, the better. I therefore
explained the purpose of my coming as fully and in as
few words as possible.
Your name, Sir, is Philip Hadwin. Your brother William,
of Malverton, died lately and left two daughters. The
youngest only is now alive, and I come, commissioned from
her, to inform you, that as no will of her father's is extant,
she is preparing to administer to his estate. As her father's
brother, she thought you entitled to this information.
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The change which took place in the countenance of this
man, during this address, was remarkable, but not easily
described. His cheeks contracted a deeper crimson, his
eyes sparkled, and his face assumed an expression in which
curiosity was mingled with rage. He bent forwards and
said, in a hoarse and contemptuous tone, pray, is your name
Mervyn?
I answered, without hesitation, and as if the question were
wholly unimportant, yes; my name is Mervyn.
God damn it! You then are the damned rascal—(but
permit me to repeat his speech without the oaths, with which
it was plentifully interlarded. Not three words were uttered
without being garnished with a—God damn it! damnation!
I'll be damned to hell if—and the like energetic expletives.)
You then are the rascal that robbed Billy's house; that ran
away with the fool his daughter; persuaded her to burn her
father's will, and have the hellish impudence to come into
this house! But I thank you for it. I was going to look
for you—you've saved me trouble. I'll settle all accounts
with you here. Fair and softly, my good lad! If I don't
bring you to the gallows—If I let you escape without such
a dressing! Damned impudence! Fellow! I've been
at Malverton. I've heard of your tricks; so! finding the
will not quite to your mind, knowing that the executor would
baulk your schemes, you threw the will into the fire; you
robbed the house of all the cash, and made off with the girl!—
The old fellow saw it all, and will swear to the truth.
These words created some surprise. I meant not to
conceal from this man the tenor and destruction of the will,
nor even the measures which his niece had taken or intended
to take. What I supposed to be unknown to him, appeared
to have been communicated by the talkative Caleb, whose
mind was more inquisitive and less sluggish than first appearances
had led me to imagine. Instead of moping by
the kitchen fire, when Eliza and I were conversing in an
upper room, it now appeared that he had reconnoitred our
proceedings through some key hole or crevice, and had related
what he had seen to Hadwin.
Hadwin proceeded to exhaust his rage in oaths and menaces.
He frequently clenched his fist, and thrust it in my
face, drew it back as if to render his blow more deadly;
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ran over the same series of exclamations on my impudence
and villany, and talked of the gallows and the whipping-post;
enforced each word by the epithets—damnable and
hellish—closed each sentence with—and be curst to you!
There was but one mode for me to pursue; all forcible
opposition to a man of his strength was absurd. It was my
province to make his anger confine itself to words, and patiently
to wait till the paroxysm should end or subside of
itself. To effect this purpose, I kept my seat, and carefully
excluded from my countenance every indication of
timidity and panic on the one hand, and of scorn and defiance
on the other. My look and attitude were those of a man
who expected harsh words, but who entertained no suspicion
that blows would be inflicted.
I was indebted for my safety to an inflexible adherence to
this medium. To have strayed, for a moment, to either
side, would have brought upon me his blows. That he did
not instantly resort to violence, inspired me with courage,
since it depended on myself whether food should be supplied
to his passion. Rage must either progress or decline, and
since it was in total want of provocation, it could not fail of
gradually subsiding.
My demeanor was calculated to damp the flame, not only
by its direct influence, but by diverting his attention from the
wrongs which he had received, to the novelty of my behavior.
The disparity in size and strength between us, was
too evident to make him believe that I confided in my sinews
for my defence; and since I betrayed neither contempt nor
fear, he could not but conclude that I trusted to my own integrity
or to his moderation. I seized the first pause in his
rhetoric to enforce this sentiment.
You are angry, Mr. Hadwin, and are loud in your threats,
but they do not frighten me. They excite no apprehension
or alarm, because I know myself able to convince you that
I have not injured you. This is an inn, and I am your
guest. I am sure I shall find better entertainment than
blows. Come, continued I, smiling, it is possible that I
am not so mischievous a wretch as your fancy paints me.
I have no claims upon your niece but that of friendship, and
she is now in the house of an honest man, Mr. Curling,
where she proposes to continue as long as is convenient.
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It is true that your brother left a will, which his daughter
burnt in my presence, because she dreaded the authority
which that will gave you, not only over her property, but person.
It is true that on leaving the house, she took away the
money which was now her own, and which was necessary
to subsistence. It is true that I bore her company, and have
left her in an honest man's keeping. I am answerable for
nothing more. As to you, I meant not to injure you; I advised
not the burning of the will. I was a stranger till after
that event, to your character. I knew neither good nor ill
of you. I came to tell you all this, because, as Eliza's
uncle, you had a right to the information.
So! you come to tell me that she burnt the will, and is
going to administer—to what, I beseech you? To her father's
property? Aye, I warrant you; but take this along
with you, that property is mine; land, house, stock, every
thing. All is safe and snug under cover of a mortgage, to
which Billy was kind enough to add a bond. One was sued,
and the other entered up, a week ago. So that all is safe
under my thumb, and the girl may whistle or starve for me.
I shall give myself no concern about the strumpet. You
thought to get a prize; but, damn me, you've met with your
match in me. Phil. Haddin's not so easily choused, I promise
you. I intended to give you this news, and a drubbing
into the bargain; but you may go, and make haste. She
burnt the will, did she; because I was named in it—and
sent you to tell me so? Good souls! It was kind of you,
and I am bound to be thankful. Take her back news of
the mortgage; and, as for you, leave my house. You may
go scot free this time; but I pledge my word for a sound
beating when you next enter these doors. I'll pay it you
with interest. Leave my house, I say!
A mortgage, said I, in a low voice, and affecting not to
hear his commands, that will be sad news for my friend.
Why, sir, you are a fortunate man. Malverton is an excellent
spot; well watered and manured; newly and completely
fenced; not a larger barn in the county; oxen
and horses, and cows in the best order; I never sat
eyes on a finer orchard. By my faith, sir, you are a
fortunate man. But, pray, what have you for dinner? I
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am hungry as a wolf. Order me a beef-steak, and some
potation or other. The bottle there—it is cider, I take it;
pray, push it to this side. Saying this, I stretched out my
hand towards the bottle which stood before him.
I confided in the power of a fearless and sedate manner.
Methought that as anger was the food of anger, it must unavoidably
subside in a contest with equability. This opinion
was intuitive, rather than the product of experience, and
perhaps, I gave no proof of my sagacity in hazarding my
safety on its truth. Hadwin's character made him dreaded
and obeyed by all. He had been accustomed to ready
and tremulous submission from men far more brawny and
robust than I was, and to find his most vehement menaces
and gestures, totally ineffectual on a being so slender and diminutive,
at once wound up his rage and excited his astonishment.
One motion counteracted and suspended the
other. He lifted his hand, but delayed to strike. One
blow, applied with his usual dexterity, was sufficient to
destroy me. Though seemingly careless, I was watchful of
his motions, and prepared to elude the stroke by shrinking
or stooping. Meanwhile, I stretched my hand far enough
to seize the bottle, and pouring its contents into a tumbler,
put it to my lips.
Come, sir, I drink your health, and wish you speedy
possession of Malverton. I have some interest with Eliza,
and will prevail on her to forbear all opposition and complaint.
Why should she complain? While I live, she shall
not be a beggar. No doubt, your claim is legal, and therefore
ought to be admitted. What the law gave, the law has
taken away. Blessed be the dispensers of law—excellent
cider! open another bottle, will you, and I beseech hasten
dinner, if you would not see me devour the table.
It was just, perhaps, to conjure up the demon avarice
to fight with the demon anger. Reason alone, would, in
such a contest, be powerless, but, in truth, I spoke without
artifice or disguise. If his claim were legal, opposition
would be absurd and pernicious. I meant not to rely upon
his own assertions, and would not acknowledge the validity
of his claim, till I had inspected the deed. Having instituted
suits, this was now in a public office, and there the
inspection should be made. Meanwhile, no reason could be
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urged why I should part from him in anger, while his kindred
to Eliza, and his title to her property, made it useful
to secure his favor. It was possible to obtain a remission of
his claims, even when the law enforced them; it would be
imprudent at least to diminish the chances of remission by
fostering his wrath and provoking his enmity.
What, he exclaimed, in a transport of fury, a'n't I master
of my own house? Out, I say!
These were harsh terms, but they were not accompanied
by gestures and tones so menacing as those which had before
been used. It was plain that the tide, which so lately
threatened my destruction, had begun to recede. This
encouraged me to persist.
Be not alarmed, my good friend, said I, placidly and
smiling. A man of your bone need not fear a pigmy like
me. I shall scarcely be able to dethrone you in your own
castle, with an army of hostlers, tapsters, and cooks at
your beck. You shall still be master here, provided you
use your influence to procure me a dinner.
His acquiescence in a pacific system, was extremely reluctant
and gradual. He laid aside one sullen tone and
wrathful look after the other; and, at length, consented not
only to supply me with a dinner, but to partake of it with
me. Nothing was more a topic of surprise to himself, than
his forbearance. He knew not how it was. He had never
been treated so before. He was not proof against entreaty
and submission; but I had neither supplicated nor submitted.
The stuff that I was made of was at once damnably tough
and devilishly pliant. When he thought of my impudence,
in staying in his house after he had bade me leave it, he was
tempted to resume his passion. When he reflected on my
courage, in making light of his anger, notwithstanding his
known impetuosity and my personal inferiority, he could not
withhold his esteem. But my patience under his rebukes,
my unalterable equanimity, and my ready consent to the
validity of his claims, soothed and propitiated him.
An exemption from blows and abuse was all that I
could gain from this man. I told him the truth, with regard
to my own history, so far as it was connected with the
Hadwins. I exhibited, in affecting colors, the helpless condition
of Eliza; but could extort from him nothing but his
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consent, that, if she chose, she might come and live with
him. He would give her victuals and clothes for so much
house-work as she was able to do. If she chose to live
elsewhere, he promised not to molest her, or intermeddle in
her concerns. The house and land were his by law, and
he would have them.
It was not my province to revile or expostulate with him.
I stated what measures would be adopted by a man who
regarded the interest of others more than his own; who was
anxious for the welfare of an innocent girl, connected with
him so closely by the ties of kindred, and who was destitute
of what is called natural friends. If he did not cancel, for
her sake, his bond and mortgage, he would, at least, afford
her a frugal maintenance. He would extend to her, in all
emergencies his counsel and protection.
All that, he said, was sheer nonsense. He could not sufficiently
wonder at my folly, in proposing to him to make a
free gift of a hundred rich acres, to a girl too who scarcely
knew her right hand from her left; whom the first cunning
young rogue, like myself, would chouse out of the whole,
and take herself into the bargain. But my folly was even
surpassed by my impudence, since, as the friend of this
girl, I was merely petitioning on my own account. I had
come to him, whom I never saw before, on whom I had
no claim, and who, as I well knew, had reason to think me
a sharper, and modestly said—“Here's a girl who has no
fortune. I am greatly in want of one. Pray, give her
such an estate that you have in your possession. If you
do, I'll marry her, and take it into my own hands.” I might
be thankful that he did not answer such a petition with
a horse-whipping. But if he did not give her his estate,
he might extend to her, forsooth, his counsel and protection.
That I've offered to do, continued he. She may
come and live in my house, if she will. She may do some
of the family work. I'll discharge the chamber-maid to
make room for her. Lizzy, if I remember right, has a
pretty face. She can't have a better market for it than as
chamber-maid to an inn. If she minds her p's and q's she
may make up a handsome sum at the year's end.
I thought it time to break off the conference; and, my
dinner being finished, took my leave; leaving behind me
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the character of a queer sort of chap. I speeded to the
prothonotary's office, which was kept in the village, and
quickly ascertained the truth of Hadwin's pretensions.
There existed a mortgage, with bond and warrant of attorney,
to so great an amount as would swallow up every thing
at Malverton. Furnished with these tidings, I prepared,
with a drooping heart, to return to Mr. Curling's.
Brown, Charles Brockden, 1771-1810 [1827], The Novels... (S. G. Goodrich, Boston) [word count] [eaf033d].
