University of Virginia Library

14. EDGAR HUNTLY.
CHAPTER XIV.

While sitting alone by the
parlour fire, marking the effects of moonlight,
I noted one on horseback coming
towards the gate. At first sight, methought
his shape and guise were not
wholly new to me; but all that I
could discern was merely a resemblance
to some one whom I had before seen.
Presently he stopped, and, looking towards
the house, made inquiries of
a passenger who chanced to be near.
Being apparently satisfied with the answers
he received, he rode with a quick

pace, into the court and alighted at the
door. I started from my seat, and, going
forth, waited with some impatience to hear
his purpose explained.

He accosted me with the formality of
a stranger, and asked if a young man, by
name Edgar Huntly, resided here. Being
answered in the affirmative, and being
requested to come in, he entered, and
seated himself, without hesitation, by
the fire. Some doubt and anxiety were
visible in his looks. He seemed desirous
of information upon some topic, and
yet betrayed terror lest the answers he
might receive should subvert some hope,
or confirm some foreboding,

Meanwhile I scrutinized his features
with much solicitude. A nearer and more
deliberate view convinced me that the
first impression was just; but still I was
unable to call up his name or the circumstances
of our former meeting. The

pause was at length ended by his saying,
in a faltering voice:

My name is Weymouth. I came hither
to obtain information on a subject in
which my happiness is deeply concerned.

At the mention of his name, I started.
It was a name too closely connected with
the image of thy brother, not to call up
affecting and vivid recollections. Weymouth
thou knowest, was thy brother's
friend. It is three years since this man
left America, during which time no
tidings had been heard of him, at least,
by thy brother. He had now returned,
and was probably unacquainted with the
fate of his friend.

After an anxious pause, he continued
....Since my arrival I have heard of an
event which has, on many accounts,
given me the deepest sorrow. I loved
Waldegrave, and know not any person in

the world whose life was dearer to me
than his. There were considerations,
however, which made it more precious
to me than the life of one whose merits
might be greater. With his life, my own
existence and property were, I have reason
to think, inseparably united.

On my return to my country, after
a long absence, I made immediate inquiries
after him. I was informed of his
untimely death. I had questions, of
infinite moment to my happiness, to decide
with regard to the state and disposition of
his property. I sought out those of his
friends who had maintained with him the
most frequent and confidential intercourse,
but they could not afford me any
satisfaction. At length, I was informed
that a young man of your name, and living
in this district, had enjoyed more of
his affection and society than any other,
had regulated the property which he left

behind, and was best qualified to afford
the intelligence which I sought. You, it
seems, are this person, and of you I must
make inquiries to which I conjure you to
return sincere and explicit answers.

That, said I, I shall find no difficulty
in doing. Whatever questions you
shall think proper to ask, I will answer
with readiness and truth.

What kind of property and to what
amount was your friend possessed of at
his death?

It was money, and consisted of deposits
at the bank of North America. The
amount was little short of eight thousand
dollars?

On whom has this property devolved?

His sister was his only kindred, and
she is now in possession of it?

Did he leave any will by which he
directed the disposition of his property?
While thus speaking, Weymouth fixed

his eyes upon my countenance, and
seemed anxious to pierce into my inmost
soul. I was somewhat surprised at his
questions, but much more at the manner
in which they were put. I answered
him, however, without delay...He left
no will, nor was any paper discovered, by
which we could guess at his intentions.
No doubt, indeed, had he made a will
his sister would have been placed precisely
in the same condition in which she
now is. He was not only bound to her
by the strongest ties of kindred, but by
affection and gratitude.

Weymouth now withdrew his eyes
from my face, and sunk into a mournful
reverie. He sighed often and deeply.
This deportment and the strain of his
inquiries excited much surprise. His
interest in the fate of Waldegrave ought
to have made the information he had
received, a source of satisfaction rather

than of regret. The property which
Waldegrave left was much greater than
his mode of life, and his own professions
had given us reason to except, but it was
no more than sufficient to insure to thee
an adequate subsistence. It ascertained
the happiness of those who were dearest
to Waldegrave, and placed them forever
beyond the reach of that poverty which
had hitherto beset them. I made no
attempt to interrupt the silence, but prepared
to answer any new interrogatory.
At length, Weymouth resumed:

Waldegrave was a fortunate man, to
amass so considerable a sum in so short
a time. I remember, when we parted,
he was poor. He used to lament that
his scrupulous integrity precluded him
from all the common roads to wealth.
He did not contemn riches, but he set
the highest value upon competence; and
imagined that he was doomed forever

to poverty. His religious duty compelled
him to seek his livelihood by
teaching a school of blacks. The labour
was disproportioned to his feeble constitution,
and the profit was greatly disproportioned
to the labour. It scarcely
supplied the necessities of nature, and
was reduced sometimes even below that
standard by his frequent indisposition.
I rejoice to find that his scruples had
somewhat relaxed their force, and that
he had betaken himself to some more
profitable occupation. Pray, what was
his new way of business?

Nay, said I, his scruples continued
as rigid, in this respect, as ever. He
was teacher of the Negro free-school
when he died.

Indeed! How then came he to
amass so much money? Could he blend
any more lucrative pursuit with his duty
as a school-master?

So it seems.

What was his pursuit?

That question, I believe, none of his
friends are qualified to answer. I thought
myself acquainted with the most secret
transactions of his life, but this had been
carefully concealed from me. I was not
only unapprised of any other employment
of his time, but had not the
slightest suspicion of his possessing any
property beside his clothes and books.
Ransacking his papers, with a different
view, I lighted on his bank-book, in
which was a regular receipt for seven
thousand five hundred dollars. By what
means he acquired this money, and even
the acquisition of it, till his death put us
in possession of his papers, was wholly
unknown to us.

Possibly he might have held it in
trust for another. In this case some

memorandums or letters would be found
explaining this affair.

True. This supposition could not
fail to occur, in consequence of which
the most diligent search was made among
his papers, but no shred or scrap was
to be found which countenanced our
conjecture.

You may reasonably be surprised,
and perhaps offended, said Weymouth, at
these inquiries; but it is time to explain
my motives for making them. Three
years ago I was, like Waldegrave, indigent,
and earned my bread by daily
labour. During seven years service in a
public office, I saved, from the expences
of subsistence, a few hundred dollars.
I determined to strike into a new path,
and, with this sum, to lay the foundation
of better fortune. I turned it into a bulky
commodity, freighted and loaded a small
vessel, and went with it to Barcelona in

Spain. I was not unsuccessful in my
projects, and, changing my abode to
England, France and Germany, according
as my interest required, I became finally
possessed of sufficient for the supply of
all my wants. I then resolved to return
to my native country, and, laying out my
money in land, to spend the rest of my
days in the luxury and quiet of an opulent
farmer. For this end I invested the
greatest part of my property in a cargo
of wine from Madeira. The remainder
I turned into a bill of exchange for
seven thousand five hundred dollars. I
had maintained a friendly correspondence
with Waldegrave during my absence.
There was no one with whom
I had lived on terms of so much intimacy,
and had boundless confidence in his
integrity. To him therefore I determined
to transmit this bill, requesting him to
take the money into safe keeping until
my return. In this manner I endeavoured
to provide against the accidents that
might befall my person or my cargo in
crossing the ocean.

It was my fate to encounter the worst
of these disasters. We were overtaken
by a storm, my vessel was driven ashore
on the coast of Portugal, my cargo was
utterly lost, and the greater part of the
crew and passengers were drowned. I
was rescued from the same fate by some
fishermen. In consequence of the hardships
to which I had been exposed,
having laboured for several days at the
pumps, and spent the greater part of a
winter night, hanging from the rigging
of the ship, and perpetually beaten by
the waves, I contracted a severe disease,
which bereaved me of the use of my
limbs. The fishermen who rescued me,
carried me to their huts, and there I

remained three weeks helpless and miserable.

That part of the coast on which I
was thrown, was, in the highest degree,
sterile and rude. Its few inhabitants
subsisted precariously on the produce of
the ocean. Their dwellings were of mud,
low, filthy, dark, and comfortless. Their
fuel was the stalks of shrubs, sparingly
scattered over a sandy desert. Their
poverty scarcely allowed them salt and
black bread with their fish, which was
obtained in unequal and sometimes insufficient
quantities, and which they ate
with all its impurities and half cooked.

My former habits as well as my present
indisposition required very different treatment
from what the ignorance and penury
of these people obliged them to bestow.
I lay upon the moist earth, imperfectly
sheltered from the sky, and with neither

raimentor fire to keep me warm. My hosts
had little attention or compassion to spare
to the wants of others. They could not
remove me to a more hospitable district,
and here, without doubt, I should have
perished had not a monk chanced to
visit their hovels. He belonged to a
convent of St. Jago, some leagues farther
from the shore, who used to send one of
its members annually to inspect the
religious concerns of those outcasts.
Happily this was the period of their visitations.

My abode in Spain had made me
somewhat conversant with its language.
The dialect of this monk did not so
much differ from Castilian, but that, with
the assistance of Latin, we were able to
converse. The jargon of the fishermen
was unintelligible, and they had
vainly endeavoured to keep up my spirits
by informing me of this expected visit.

This monk was touched with compassion
at my calamity, and speedily
provided the means of my removal to his
convent. Here I was charitably entertained,
and the aid of a physician was procured
for me. He was but poorly skilled
in his profession, and rather confirmed
than alleviated my disease. The Portuguese
of his trade, especially in remoter
districts, are little more than dealers in
talismans and nostrums. For a long
time I was unable to leave my pallet,
and had no prospect before me but that
of consuming my days in the gloom of
this cloister.

All the members of this convent, but
he who had been my first benefactor, and
whose name was Chaledro, were bigotted
and sordid. Their chief motive for
treating me with kindness, was the hope
of obtaining a convert from heresy. They
spared no pains to subdue my errors,

and were willing to prolong my imprisonment,
in the hope of finally gaining
their end. Had my fate been governed
by those, I should have been immured in
this convent, and compelled, either to
adopt their fanatical creed or to put an
end to my own life, in order to escape
their well meant persecutions. Chaledro,
however, though no less sincere in his
faith and urgent in his intreaties, yet
finding me invincible, exerted his influence
to obtain my liberty.

After many delays, and strenuous exertions
of my friend, they consented to
remove me to Oporto. The journey was
to be performed in an open cart over a
mountainous country, in the heats of summer.
The monks endeavoured to dissuade
me from the enterprize, for my own
sake, it being scarcely possible that one in
my feeble state, should survive a journey
like this; but I despaired of improving my

condition by other means. I preferred
death to the imprisonment of a Portuguese
monastery, and knew that I could
hope for no alleviation of my disease, but
from the skill of Scottish or French physicians,
whom I expected to meet with in
that city. I adhered to my purpose with
so much vehemence and obstinacy, that
they finally yielded to my wishes.

My road lay through the wildest and
most rugged districts. It did not exceed
ninety miles, but seven days were consumed
on the way. The motion of the
vehicle racked me with the keenest
pangs, and my attendants concluded
that every stage would be my last. They
had been selected without due regard to
their characters. They were knavish and
inhuman, and omitted nothing, but actual
violence, to hasten my death. They purposely
retarded the journey, and protracted
to seven, what might have been

readily performed in four days. They
neglected to execute the orders which
they had received, respecting my lodging
and provisions, and from them, as
well as from the peasants, who were sure
to be informed that I was an heretic, I
suffered every species of insult and
injury. My constitution, as well as my
frame, possessed a fund of strength of
which I had no previous conception. In
spite of hardship and exposure and abstinence,
I, at last, arrived at Oporto.

Instead of being carried, agreeably
to Chaledro's direction, to a convent of
St. Jago, I was left, late in the evening,
in the porch of a common hospital. My
attendants, having laid me on the pavement
and loaded me with imprecations,
left me to obtain admission by my own
efforts. I passed the live-long night
in this spot, and in the morning was
received into the house, in a state which

left it uncertain whether I was alive or
dead.

After recovering my sensibility, I
made various efforts to procure a visit
from some English merchant. This was
no easy undertaking for one in my deplorable
condition. I was too weak to articulate
my words distinctly, and these words
were rendered by my foreign accent,
scarcely intelligible. The likelihood of
my speedy death made the people about
me more indifferent to my wants and
petitions.

I will not dwell upon my repeated
disappointments, but content myself with
mentioning that I gained the attention
of a French gentleman, whose curiosity
brought him to view the hospital.
Through him, I obtained a visit from
an English merchant, and finally gained
the notice of a person, who formerly
resided in America, and of whom I had

imperfect knowledge. By their kindness
I was removed from the hospital to a
private house. A Scottish surgeon was
summoned to my assistance, and in seven
months, I was restored to my present
state of health.

At Oporto, I embarked, in an American
ship, for New-York. I was destitute
of all property, and relied, for the payment
of the debts which I was obliged to
contract, as well as for my future subsistence,
on my remittance, to Waldegrave.
I hastened to Philadelphia, and was soon
informed that my friend was dead. His
death had taken place a long time since
my remittance to him, hence this disaster
was a subject of regret chiefly on his own
account. I entertained no doubt but
that my property had been secured, and
that either some testamentary directions,
or some papers had been left behind
respecting this affair

I sought out those who were formerly
our mutual acquaintance, I found that
they were wholly strangers to his affairs.
They could merely relate some particulars
of his singular death, and point out
the lodgings which he formerly occupied.
Hither I forthwith repaired, and discovered
that he lived in this house with
his sister, disconnected with its other
inhabitants. They described his mode
of life in terms that shewed them to be
very imperfectly acquainted with it. It
was easy indeed to infer, from their aspect
and manners, that little sympathy or
union could have subsisted between them
and their co-tenants, and this inference
was confirmed by their insinuations, the
growth of prejudice and envy. They
told me that Waldegrave's sister had gone
to live in the country, but whither or for
how long, she had not condescended to

inform them, and they did not care to ask.
She was a topping dame whose notions
were much too high for her station.
Who was more nice than wise, and yet
was one who could stoop, when it most
became her to stand upright. It was no
business of theirs, but they could not
but mention their suspicions that she had
good reasons for leaving the city, and
for concealing the place of her retreat.
Some things were hard to be disguised.
They spoke for themselves, and the
only way to hinder disagreeable discoveries,
was to keep out of sight.

I was wholly a stranger to Waldegrave's
sister. I knew merely that he
had such a relation. There was nothing
therefore to outbalance this unfavourable
report, but the apparent malignity
and grossness of those who gave it. It was
not, however, her character about which
I was solicitous, but merely the place

where she might be found, and the suitable
inquiries respecting her deceased
brother, be answered. On this head,
these people professed utter ignorance
and were either unable or unwilling to
direct me to any person in the city who
knew more than themselves. After
much discourse they, at length, let fall
an intimation that if any one knew her
place of retreat, it was probably a country
lad, by name Huntly, who lived near the
Forks of Delaware. After Waldegrave's
death, this lad had paid his sister a visit,
and seemed to be admitted on a very
confidential footing. She left the house,
for the last time, in his company, and he,
therefore, was most likely to know what
had become of her.

The name of Huntly was not totally
unknown to me. I myself was born
and brought up in the neighbouring
township of Chetasco. I had some

knowledge of your family, and your name
used often to be mentioned by Waldegrave,
as that of one who, at a maturer
age, would prove himself useful to his
country. I determined therefore to apply
to you for what information you could
give. I designed to visit my father who
lives in Chetasco and relieve him from
that disquiet which his ignorance of my
fate could not fail to have inspired, and
both these ends could be thus, at the same
time, accomplished.

Before I left the city, I thought it
proper to apply to the merchant on whom
my bill had been drawn. If this bill
had been presented and paid, he had
doubtless preserved some record of it,
and hence a clue might be afforded,
though every other expedient should
fail. My usual ill fortune pursued me
upon this occasion, for the merchant had
lately become insolvent, and, to avoid the

rage of his creditors, had fled, without
leaving any vestige of this or similar
transactions behind him. He had, some
years since, been an adventurer from
Holland, and was suspected to have
returned thither.