University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

Meanwhile large deductions had been
made from my stock of money, and the remnant would be
speedily consumed by my present mode of life. My expences
far exceeded my previous expectations. In no long time
I should be reduced to my ancient poverty, which the luxurious
existence that I now enjoyed, and the regard due to
my beloved and helpless companion, would render more irksome
than ever. Some scheme to rescue me from this fate,
was indispensable; but my aversion to labour, to any pursuit,
the end of which was merely gain, and which would require
application and attention continued undiminished.

I was plunged anew into dejection and perplexity. From
this I was somewhat relieved by a plan suggested by Mr.
Thetford. I thought I had experience of his knowledge and
integrity, and the scheme that he proposed seemed liable to
no possibility of miscarriage. A ship was to be purchased,
supplied with a suitable cargo, and dispatched to a port in the
West-Indies. Loss from storms and enemies was to be precluded
by insurance. Every hazard was to be enumerated,
and the ship and cargo valued at the highest rate. Should
the voyage be safely performed, the profits would be double
the original expense. Should the ship be taken or wrecked,
the insurers would have bound themselves to make ample,
speedy, and certain indemnification—Thetford's brother, a
wary and experienced trader, was to be the supercargo.

All my money was laid out upon this scheme. Scarcely
enough was reserved to supply domestic and personal wants.
Large debts were likewise incurred. Our caution had, as we
conceived, annihilated every chance of failure. Too much
could not be expended on a project so infallible; and the vessel,
amply fitted and freighted, departed on her voyage.

An interval, not devoid of suspense and anxiety, succeeded.
My mercantile inexperience made me distrust the clearness
of my own discernment, and I could not but remember, that
my utter and irretrievable destruction was connected with the
failure of my scheme. Time added to my distrust and apprehensions.
The time, at which tidings of the ship were to be
expected, elapsed without affording any information of her
destiny. My anxieties, however, were to be carefully hidden
from the world. I had taught mankind to believe, that this
project had been adopted more for amusement than gain; and
the debts which I had contracted, seemed to arise from willingness
to adhere to established maxims, more than from the
pressure of necessity.

Month succeeded month, and intelligence was still withheld.
The notes which I had given for one third of the cargo,
and for the premium of insurance, would shortly become due.
For the payment of the former, and the cancelling of the
latter, I had relied upon the expeditious return, or the
demonstrated loss of the vessel. Neither of these events had
taken place.

My cares were augmented from another quarter. My
companion's situation now appeared to be such, as, if our
intercourse had been sanctified by wedlock, would have been
regarded with delight. As it was, no symptoms were equally
to be deplored. Consequences, as long as they were involved
in uncertainty, were extenuated or overlooked; but now,
when they became apparent and inevitable, were fertile of
distress and upbraiding.

Indefinable fears, and a desire to monopolize all the meditations
and affections of this being, had induced me to perpetuate

her ignorance of any but her native language, and
debar her from all intercourse with the world. My friends
were of course inquisitive respecting her character, adventures,
and particularly her relation to me. The consciousness
how much the truth redounded to my dishonour, made
me solicitous to lead conjecture astray. For this purpose I
did not discountenance the conclusion that was adopted by
some, that she was my daughter. I reflected, that all dangerous
surmizes would be effectually precluded by this belief.

These precautions afforded me some consolation in my present
difficulties. It was requisite to conceal the lady's
condition from the world. If this should be ineffectual, it
would not be difficult to divert suspicion from my person.
The secrecy that I had practised would be justified, in the
apprehension of those to whom the personal condition of Clemenza
should be disclosed, by the feelings of a rather.

Meanwhile, it was an obvious expedient to remove the
unhappy lady to a distance from impertinent observers. A
rural retreat, lonely, and sequestered, was easily procured, and
hither she consented to repair. This arrangement being concerted,
I had leisure to reflect upon the evils which every
hour brought nearer, and which threatened to exterminate me.

My inquietudes forbade me to sleep, and I was accustomed
to rise before day, and seek some respite in the fields. Returning
from one of these unseasonable rambles, I chanced
to meet you. Your resemblance to the deceased Lodi, in
person and visage, is remarkable. When you first met my
eye, this similitude startled me. Your subsequent appeal to
my compassion was cloathed in such terms, as formed a powerful
contrast with your dress, and prepossessed me greatly
in favour of your education and capacity.

In my present hopeless condition, every incident, however
trivial, was attentively considered, with a view to extract
from it some means of escaping from my difficulties. My
love for the Italian girl, in spite of all my efforts to keep it
alive, had begun to languish. Marriage was impossible;

and had now, in some degree, ceased to be desirable. We are
apt to judge of others by ourselves. The passion, I now
found myself disposed to ascribe chiefly to fortuitous circumstances;
to the impulse of gratitude, and the exclusion of
competitors; and believed that your resemblance to her
brother, your age, and personal accomplishments, might,
after a certain time, and in consequence of suitable contrivances,
on my part, give a new direction to her feelings. To
gain your concurrence, I relied upon your simplicity, your
gratitude, and your susceptibility to the charms of this bewitching
creature.

I contemplated, likewise, another end. Mrs. Wentworth
is rich. A youth who was once her favourite, and designed
to inherit her fortunes, has disappeared, for some years, from
the scene. His death is most probable, but of that there is
no satisfactory information. The life of this person, whose
name is Clavering, is an obstacle to some designs which had
occurred to me in relation to this woman. My purposes were
crude and scarcely formed. I need not swell the catalogue
of my errors by expatiating upon them. Suffice it to say,
that the peculiar circumstances of your introduction to me,
led me to reflections on the use that might be made of your
agency, in procuring this lady's acquiescence in my schemes.
You were to be ultimately persuaded to confirm in her the
belief that her nephew was dead. To this consummation it
was indispensible to lead you by slow degrees, and circuitous
paths. Meanwhile, a profound silence, with regard to your
genuine history, was to be observed; and to this forbearance,
your consent was obtained with more readiness than I
expected.

There was an additional motive for the treatment you
received from me. My personal projects and cares had
hitherto prevented me from reading Lodi's manuscript; a
slight inspection, however, was sufficient to prove that the
work was profound and eloquent. My ambition has panted,
with equal avidity, after the reputation of literature and

opulence. To claim the authorship of this work was too
harmless and specious a stratagem, not to be readily suggested.
I meant to translate it into English, and to enlarge
it by enterprising incidents of my own invention. My scruples
to assume the merit of the original composer, might thus
be removed. For this end, your assistance as an amanuensis
would be necessary.

You will perceive, that all these projects depended on
the seasonable arrival of intelligence from........... The
delay of another week would seal my destruction. The
silence might arise from the foundering of the ship, and the
destruction of all on board. In this case, the insurance was
not forfeited, but payment could not be obtained within a
year. Meanwhile, the premium and other debts must be
immediately discharged, and this was beyond my power.
Meanwhile I was to live in a manner that would not belie
my pretensions; but my coffers were empty.

I cannot adequately paint the anxieties with which I have
been haunted. Each hour has added to the burthen of my
existence, till, in consequence of the events of this day, it has
become altogether insupportable. Some hours ago, I was
summoned by Thetford to his house. The messenger
informed me that tidings had been received of my ship. In
answer to my eager interrogations, he could give no other
information than that she had been captured by the British.
He was unable to relate particulars.

News of her safe return would, indeed, have been far
more acceptable; but even this information was a source of
infinite congratulation. It precluded the demand of my
insurers. The payment of other debts might be postponed
for a month, and my situation be the same as before the
adoption of this successless scheme. Hope and joy were
reinstated in my bosom, and I hasted to Thetford's compting
house.

He received me with an air of gloomy dissatisfaction. I
accounted for his sadness by supposing him averse to communicate

information, which was less favourable than our
wishes had dictated. He confirmed, with visible reluctance,
the news of her capture. He had just received letters from
his brother, acquainting him with all particulars, and con
taining the official documents of this transaction.

This had no tendency to damp my satisfaction, and I
proceeded to peruse with eagerness, the papers which he put
into my hand. I had not proceeded far when my joyous hopes
vanished. Two French mulattoes had, after much solicitation,
and the most solemn promises to carry with them no
articles which the laws of war decree to be contraband,
obtained a passage in the vessel. She was speedily encountered
by a privateer, by whom every receptacle was ransacked.
In a chest, belonging to the Frenchmen, and which they had
affirmed to contain nothing but their clothes, were found
two sabres, and other accoutrements of an officer of cavalry.
Under this pretence, the vessel was captured and condemned,
and this was a cause of forfeiture, which had not been provided
against in the contract of insurance.

By this untoward event my hopes were irreparably blasted.
The utmost efforts were demanded to conceal my thoughts
from my companion. The anguish that preyed upon my
heart was endeavoured to be masked by looks of indifference.
I pretended to have been previously informed by the messenger,
not only of the capture, but of the cause that led to
it, and forbore to expatiate upon my loss, or to execrate the
authors of my disappointment. My mind, however, was the
theatre of discord and agony, and I waited with impatience
for an opportunity to leave him.

For want of other topics, I asked by whom this information
had been brought. He answered, that the bearer was
Captain Amos Watson, whose vessel had been forfeited, at
the same time, under a different pretence. He added, that
my name being mentioned, accidentally, to Watson, the
latter had betrayed marks of great surprise, and been very
earnest in his inquiries respecting my situation. Having

obtained what knowledge Thetford was able to communicate,
the captain had departed, avowing a former acquaintance
with me, and declaring his intention of paying me
a visit.

These words operated on my frame like lightning. All
within me was tumult and terror, and I rushed precipitately
out of the house. I went forward with unequal steps, and
at random. Some instinct led me into the fields, and I was
not apprized of the direction of my steps, till, looking up, I
found myself upon the shore of Schuylkill.

Thus was I, a second time, overborne by hopeless and
incurable evils. An interval of motley feelings, of specious
artifice, and contemptible imposture, had elapsed since
my meeting with the stranger at Wilmington. Then my
forlorn state had led me to the brink of suicide. A brief
and feverish respite had been afforded me, but now was I
transported to the verge of the same abyss.

Amos Watson was the brother of the angel whom I had
degraded and destroyed. What but fiery indignation and
unappeasable vengeance, could lead him into my presence?
With what heart could I listen to his invectives? How could
I endure to look upon the face of one, whom I had loaded
with such atrocious and intolerable injuries?

I was acquainted with his loftiness of mind: his detestation
of injustice, and the whirl-wind passions that ingratitude
and villainy like mine were qualified to awaken in his bosom.
I dreaded not his violence. The death that he might be
prompted to inflict, was no object of aversion. It was
poverty and disgrace, the detection of my crimes, the looks
and voice of malediction and upbraiding, from which my
cowardice shrunk.

Why should I live? I must vanish from that stage which
I had lately trodden. My flight must be instant and precipitate.
To be a fugitive from exasperated creditors, and
from the industrious revenge of Watson, was an easy undertaking;
but whither could I fly, where I should not be pursued

by the phantoms of remorse, by the dread of hourly
detection, by the necessities of hunger and thirst? In what
scene should I be exempt from servitude and drudgery?
Was my existence embellished with enjoyments that would
justify my holding it, encumbered with hardships, and immersed
in obscurity?

There was no room for hesitation. To rush into the stream
before me, and to put an end at once to my life and the miseries
inseparably linked with it, was the only proceeding which
fate had left to my choice. My muscles were already exerted
for this end, when the helpless condition of Clemenza was
remembered. What provision could I make against the evils
that threatened her? Should I leave her utterly forlorn and
friendless? Mrs. Wentworth's temper was forgiving and
compassionate. Adversity had taught her to participate, and
her wealth enabled her to relieve distress. Who was there
by whom such powerful claims to succour and protection
could be urged as by this desolate girl? Might I not state
her situation in a letter to this lady, and urge irresistible
pleas for the extension of her kindness to this object?

These thoughts made me suspend my steps. I determined
to seek my habitation once more, and having written and
deposited this letter, to return to the execution of my fatal
purpose. I had scarcely reached my own door, when some
one approached along the pavement. The form, at first, was
undistinguishable, but by coming, at length, within the illumination
of a lamp, it was perfectly recognized.

To avoid this detested interview was now impossible.
Watson approached and accosted me. In this conflict of
tumultuous feelings I was still able to maintain an air of intrepidity.
His demeanour was that of a man who struggles
with his rage. His accents were hurried, and scarcely articulate.
I have ten words to say to you, said he: lead into
the house, and to some private room. My business with
you will be dispatched in a breath.

I made him no answer, but led the way into my house, and
to my study. On entering this room, I put the light upon
the table, and turning to my visitant, prepared, silently to
hear, what he had to unfold. He struck his clenched hand
against the table with violence. His motion was of that
tempestuous kind, as to overwhelm the power of utterance,
and found it easier to vent itself in gesticulations than in
words. At length, he exclaimed,

It is well. Now has the hour, so long, and so impatiently
demanded by my vengeance, arrived. Welbeck! Would
that my first words could strike thee dead! They will so, if
thou hast any title to the name of man.

My sister is dead: dead of anguish and a broken heart.
Remote from her friends; in a hovel; the abode of indigence
and misery.

Her husband is no more. He returned after long absence,
a tedious navigation, and vicissitudes of hardships. He flew
to the bosom of his love; of his wife. She was gone; lost
to him, and to virtue. In a fit of desperation, he retired to
his chamber, and dispatched himself. This is the instrument
with which the deed was performed.

Saying this, Watson took a pistol from his pocket, and
held it to my head. I lifted not my hand to turn aside the
weapon. I did not shudder at the spectacle, or shrink from
his approaching hand. With fingers clasped together, and
eyes fixed upon the floor, I waited till his fury was exhausted.
He continued:

All passed in a few hours. The elopement of his daughter—the
death of his son. O! my father! Most loved, and
most venerable of men! To see thee changed into a maniac!
Haggard and wild! Deterred from outrage on thyself and
those around thee, by fetters and stripes! What was it
that saved me from a like fate? To view this hideous ruin,
and to think by whom it was occasioned! Yet not to become
frantic like thee, my father; or not destroy myself like thee
my brother! My friend!—

No. For this hour was I reserved: to avenge your wrongs
and mine in the blood of this ungrateful villain.

There, continued he, producing a second pistol, and tendering
it to me, there is thy defence. Take we opposite sides
of this table, and fire at the same instant.

During this address I was motionless. He tendered the
pistol, but I unclasped not my hands to receive it.

Why do you hesitate? resumed he. Let the chance between
us be equal, or fire you first.

No, said I, I am ready to die by your hand. I wish it.
It will preclude the necessity of performing the office for
myself. I have injured you, and merit all that your vengeance
can inflict. I know your nature too well, to believe
that my death will be perfect expiation. When the gust of
indignation is past, the remembrance of your deed will only
add to your sum of misery: yet I do not love you well enough
to wish that you would forbear. I desire to die, and to die
by another's hand rather than my own.

Coward! exclaimed Watson, with augmented vehemence.
You know me too well, to believe me capable of assassination.
Vile subterfuge! Contemptible plea! Take the pistol
and defend yourself. You want not the power or the will;
but, knowing that I spurn at murder, you think your safety
will be found in passiveness. Your refusal will avail you
little. Your fame, if not your life, is at my mercy. If you
faulter now, I will allow you to live, but only till I have
stabbed your reputation.

I now fixed my eyes stedfastly upon him, and spoke: How
much a stranger are you to the feelings of Welbeck! How
poor a judge of his cowardice! I take your pistol, and consent
to your conditions.

We took opposite sides of the table. Are you ready? he
cried, fire!

Both triggers were drawn at the same instant. Both pistols
were discharged. Mine was negligently raised. Such is
the untoward chance that presides over human affairs: such

is the malignant destiny by which my steps have ever been
pursued. The bullet whistled harmlessly by me. Levelled
by an eye that never before failed, and with so small an interval
between us. I escaped, but my blind and random shot
took place in his heart.

There is the fruit of this disastrous meeting. The catalogue
of death is thus completed. Thou sleepest Watson!
Thy sister is at rest, and so art thou. Thy vows of vengeance
are at an end. It was not reserved for thee to be thy
own and thy sister's avenger. Welbeck's measure of transgressions
is now full, and his own hand must execute the
justice that is due to him.