 | CHAPTER XXII. Arthur Mervyn, or, Memoirs of the year 1793 |  |
22. CHAPTER XXII.
This narrative threw new light on the character
of Welbeck. If accident had given him possession of
this treasure, it was easy to predict on what schemes of luxury
and selfishness it would have been expended. The same
dependence on the world's erroneous estimation, the same
devotion to imposture, and thoughtlessness of futurity, would
have constituted the picture of his future life, as had distinguished
the past.
This money was another's. To retain it for his own use
was criminal. Of this crime he appeared to be as insensible
as ever. His own gratification was the supreme law of his
actions. To be subjected to the necessity of honest labour,
was the heaviest of all evils, and one from which he was
willing to escape by the commission of suicide.
The volume which he sought was mine. It was my duty
to restore it to the rightful owner, or, if the legal claimant
could not be found, to employ it in the promotion of virtue
and happinefs. To give it to Welbeck was to consecrate it
to the purpose of selfishness and misery. My right, legally
considered, was as valid as his.
But if I intended not to resign it to him, was it proper to
disclose the truth, and explain by whom the volume was purloined
from the shelf? The first impulse was to hide this
truth: but my understanding had been taught, by recent
occurrences, to question the justice, and deny the usefulness
were pure: Why should I scruple to avow my principles,
and vindicate my actions?
Welbeck had ceased to be dreaded or revered. That awe
which was once created by his superiority of age, refinement
of manners and dignity of garb, had vanished. I was a boy
in years, an indigent and uneducated rustic, but I was able
to discern the illusions of power and riches, and abjured
every claim to esteem that was not founded on integrity.
There was no tribunal before which I should faulter in asserting
the truth, and no species of martyrdom which I would
not cheerfully embrace in its cause.
After some pause, I said: cannot you conjecture in what
way this volume has disappeared?
No: he answered with a sigh. Why, of all his volumes,
this only should have vanished, was an inexplicable enigma.
Perhaps, said I, it is less important to know how it was
removed, than by whom it is now possessed.
Unquestionably: and yet, unless that knowledge enables
me to regain the possession it will be useless.
Useless then it will be, for the present possessor will never
return it to you.
Indeed, replied he, in a tone of dejection, your conjecture
is moft probable. Such a prize is of too much value to be
given up.
What I have said, flows not from conjecture, but from
knowledge. I know that it will never be restored to you.
At these words, Welbeck looked at me with anxiety and
doubt—You know that it will not! Have you any knowledge
of the book! Can you tell me what has become of it?
Yes, after our separation on the river, I returned to this
house. I found this volume and secured it, you rightly suspected
its contents. The money was there.
Welbeck started as if he had trodden on a mine of gold.
His first emotion was rapturous, but was immediately chastised
you got it? Is it entire? Have you it with you?
It is unimpaired. I have got it, and shall hold it as a sacred
trust for the rightful proprietor.
The tone with which this declaration was accompanied,
shook the new born confidence of Welbeck. The rightful
Proprietor! true, but I am he. To me only it belongs and
to me, you are, doubtless, willing to restore it.
Mr Welbeck! It is not my desire to give you perplexity
or anguish; to sport with your passions. On the supposition
of your death, I deemed it no infraction of justice to take
this manuscript. Accident unfolded its contents. I could
not hesitate to chuse my path. The natural and legal successor
of Vincentio Lodi is his sister. To her, therefore,
this property belongs, and to her only will I give it.
Presumptuous boy! And this is your sage decision. I tell
you that I am the owner, and to me you shall render it.
Who is this girl! childish and ignorant! Unable to consult
and to act for herself on the most trivial occasion. Am I
not, by the appointment of her dying brother, her protector
and guardian? Her age produces a legal incapacity of property.
Do you imagine that so obvious an expedient, as that
of procuring my legal appointment as her guardian, was
overlooked by me? If it were neglected, still my title to provide
her subsistance and enjoyment is unquestionable.
Did I not rescue her from poverty and prostitution and
infamy? Have I not supplied all her wants with incessant
solicitude? Whatever her condition required has been plenteously
supplied. This dwelling and its furniture, was hers,
as far as a rigid jurisprudence would permit. To prescribe
her expences and govern her family, was the province of her
guardian.
You have heard the tale of my anguish and despair.
Whence did they flow but from the frustration of schemes,
projected for her benefit, as they were executed with her
money and by means which the authority of her guardian
atmosphere, and explored my way, like a thief, to this recess,
but with a view to rescue her from poverty and restore to her,
her own?
Your scruples are ridiculous and criminal. I treat them
with less severity, because your youth is raw and your conceptions
crude. But if, after this proof of the justice of
my claim, you hesitate to restore the money, I shall treat you
as a robber, who has plundered my cabinet and refused to
refund his spoil.
These reasonings were powerful and new. I was acquainted
with the rights of guardianship. Welbeck had, in some
respects, acted as the friend of this lady. To vest himself
with this office, was the conduct which her youth and helplessness
prescribed to her friend. His title to this money,
as her guardian, could not be denied.
But how was this statement compatible with former representations?
No mention had then been made of guardianship.
By thus acting, he would have thwarted all his schemes
for winning the esteem of mankind, and fostering the belief
which the world entertained of his opulence and independence.
I was thrown, by these thoughts, into considerable perplexity.
If his statement were true, his claim to this money
was established, but I questioned its truth. To intimate my
doubts of his veracity, would be to provoke abhorrence and
outrage.
His last insinuation was peculiarly momentous. Suppose
him the fraudulent possessor of this money, shall I be justified
in taking it away by violence under pretence of restoring
it to the genuine proprietor, who, for aught I know, may
be dead, or with whom, at least, I may never procure a
meeting? But will not my behaviour on this occasion, be
deemed illicit? I entered Welbeck's habitation at midnight,
proceeded to his closet, possessed myself of portable property,
like this?
Welbeck waited with impatience for a conclusion to my
pause. My perplexity and indecision did not abate, and my
silence continued. At length, he repeated his demands,
with new vehemence. I was compelled to answer. I told
him, in few words, that his reasonings had not convinced me
of the equity of his claim, and that my determination was
unaltered.
He had not expected this inflexibility from one in my
situation. The folly of opposition, when my feebleness and
loneliness were contrasted with his activity and resources,
appeared to him monstrous and glaring, but his contempt was
converted into rage and fear when he reflected that this folly
might finally defeat his hopes. He had probably determined
to obtain the money, let the purchase cost what it would,
but was willing to exhaust pacific expedients before he should
resort to force. He might likewise question whether the
money was within his reach: I had told him that I had it, but
whether it was now about me, was somewhat dubious; yet,
though he used no direct inquiries, he chose to proceed on
the supposition of its being at hand. His angry tones were
now changed into those of remonstrance and persuasion.
Your present behaviour, Mervyn, does not justify the
expectation I had formed of you. You have been guilty of
a base theft. To this you have added the deeper crime of
ingratitude, but your infatuation and folly are, at least, as
glaring as your guilt. Do you think I can credit your assertions
that you keep this money for another, when I recollect
that six weeks have passed since you carried it off? Why
have you not sought the owner and restored it to her? If
your intentions had been honest, would you have suffered so
long a time to elapse without doing this? It is plain, that
you designed to keep it for your own use.
But whether this were your purpose or not, you have no
longer power to restore it or retain it. You say that you
money? In your present situation you cannot gain access to
the lady. Some other must inherit this wealth. Next to
Signora Lodi, whose right can he put in competition with
mine? But if you will not give it to me, on my own account,
let it be given in trust for her. Let me be the bearer of it to
her own hands. I have already shewn you that my claim to it,
as her guardian, is legal and incontrovertible, but this claim,
I wave. I will merely be the executor of your will. I will
bind myself to comply with your directions by any oath,
however solemn and tremendous, which you shall prescribe.
As long as my own heart acquitted me, these imputations
of dishonesty affected me but little. They excited no anger,
because they originated in ignorance, and were rendered
plausible to Welbeck, by such facts as were known to him.
It was needless to confute the charge by elaborate and circumstantial
details.
It was true that my recovery was, in the highest degree,
improbable, and that my death would put an end to my
power over this money; but had I not determined to secure
its useful application, in case of my death? This project
was obstructed by the presence of Welbeck, but I hoped
that his love of life would induce him to fly. He might
wrest this volume from me by violence, or he might wait
till my deaths hould give him peaceable possession. But
these, though probable events, were not certain, and would,
by no means, justify the voluntary surrender. His strength,
if employed for this end, could not be resisted; but then it
would be a sacrifice, not to choice, but necessity.
Promises were easily given, but were surely not to be
confided in. Welbeck's own tale, in which it could not be
imagined that he had aggravated his defects, attested the
frailty of his virtue. To put into his hands, a sum like this,
in expectation of his delivering it to another, when my
death would cover the transaction with impenetrable secrecy,
proper to impute to me.
These thoughts influenced my resolutions, but they were
revolved in silence. To state them verbally was useless.
They would not justify my conduct in his eyes. They
would only exasperate dispute, and impel him to those
acts of violence which I was desirous of preventing. The
sooner this controversy should end, and my measure be freed
from the obstruction of his company, the better.
Mr. Welbeck, said I, my regard to your safety compells
me to wish that this interview should terminate. At a different
time, I should not be unwilling to discuss this matter.
Now it will be fruitless. My conscience points out to me
too clearly the path I should pursue for me to mistake it.
As long as I have power over this money I shall keep it for
the use of the unfortunate lady, whom I have seen in this
house. I shall exert myself to find her, but if that be impossible,
I shall appropriate it in a way, in which you shall
have no participation.
I will not repeat the contest that succeeded between my
forbearance and his passions. I listened to the dictates of his
rage and his avarice in silence. Astonishment, at my inflexibility,
was blended with his anger. By turns he commented
on the guilt and on the folly of my resolutions. Sometimes
his emotions would mount into fury, and he would approach
me in a menacing attitude, and lift his hand as if he would
exterminate me at a blow. My languid eyes, my cheeks
glowing, and my temples throbbing with fever, and my
total passiveness, attracted his attention and arrested his
stroke. Compassion would take place of rage, and the
belief be revived that remonstrances and arguments would
answer his purpose.
| CHAPTER XXII. Arthur Mervyn, or, Memoirs of the year 1793 | |