 | CHAPTER XI. Ormond, or, The secret witness |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
On leaving Mr. Ormond's house, Constance
was met by that gentleman. He saw her as she
came out, and was charmed with the simplicity
of her appearance. On entering, he interrogated
the servant as to the business that brought her
thither.
So, said he, as he entered the drawing-room,
where Craig was seated, you have had a visitant.
She came, it seems, on a pressing occasion, and
would be put off with nothing but a letter.
Craig had not expected this address, but it
only precipitated the execution of a design that
accidents, he had constructed and related on a
previous occasion to Ormond, a story suitable to
his purpose.
Aye, said he, in a tone of affected compassion,
it is a sad affair enough. I am sorry 'tis not in
my power to help the poor girl. She is wrong in
imputing her father's misfortunes to me, but I
know the source of her mistake. Would to heaven
it was in my power to repair the wrongs they
have suffered, not from me, but from one whose
relationship is a disgrace to me.
Perhaps, replied the other, you are willing to
explain this affair.
Yes, I wish to explain it. I was afraid of some
such accident as this. An explanation is due to
my character. I have already told you my story.
I mentioned to you a brother of mine. There is
scarcely thirteen months difference in our ages.
There is a strong resemblance between him and
me, in our exterior, though I hope there is none
at all in our minds. This brother was a partner
of a gentleman, the father of this girl, at New-York.
He was, a long time, nothing better than
an apprentice to Mr. Dudley, but he advanced
so much in the good graces of his master, that he
finally took him into partnership. I did not know
till I arrived on the continent, the whole of his
misconduct. It appears that he embezzled the
property of the house, and fled away with it, and
the consequence was, that his quondam master
was ruined. I am often mistaken for my brother,
to my no small inconvenience: but all this
I told you formerly. See what a letter I just now
received from this girl.
Craig was one of the most plausible of men.
His character was a standing proof of the vanity
of physiognomy. There were few men who
aspect. To this circumstance, perhaps,
he owed his ruin. His temptations to deceive
were stronger than what are incident to most
other men. Deception was so easy a task, that
the difficulty lay, not in infusing false opinions
respecting him, but in preventing them from being
spontaneously imbibed. He contracted habits of
imposture imperceptibly. In proportion as he
deviated from the practice of truth, he discerned
the necessity of extending and systematizing his
efforts, and of augmenting the original benignity
and attractiveness of his looks, by studied additions.
The further he proceeded, the more difficult
it was to return. Experience and habit
added daily to his speciousness, till at length, the
world perhaps might have been searched in vain
for his competitor.
He had been introduced to Ormond under the
most favorable auspices. He had provided against
a danger which he knew to be imminent, by relating
his own story as if it were his brother's.
He had, however, made various additions to it,
serving to aggravate the heinousness of his guilt.
This arose partly from policy, and partly from the
habit of lying, which was prompted by a fertile
invention, and rendered inveterate by incessant
exercise. He interwove in his tale, an intrigue
between Miss Dudley and his brother. The former
was seduced, and this man had employed his
skill in chirographical imitation, in composing
letters from Miss Dudley to his brother, which
sufficiently attested her dishonor. He and his
brother, he related, to have met in Jamaica, where
the latter died, by which means his personal property
and papers came into his possession.
Ormond read the letter which his companion
presented to him on this occasion. The papers
had made him familiar with her hand-writing.
The penmanship was, indeed, similar, yet
this was written in a spirit not quite congenial
with that which had dictated her letters to her
lover. But he reflected that the emergency was
extraordinary, and that the new scenes through
which she had passed, had, perhaps, enabled her
to retreave her virtue and enforce it. The picture
which she drew of her father's distresses, affected
him and his companion very differently.
He pondered on it for some time, in silence; he
then looked up, and with his usual abruptness
said, I suppose you gave her something?
No. I was extremely sorry that it was not in
my power. I have nothing but a little trifling
silver about me. I have no more at home than
will barely suffice to pay my board here, and my
expenses to Baltimore. Till I reach there I cannot
expect a supply. I was less uneasy I confess,
on this account, because I knew you to be
equally willing and much more able to afford the
relief she asks.
This, Mr. Ormond had predetermined to do.
He paused only to deliberate in what manner it
could, with most propriety, be done. He was
always willing, when he conferred benefits, to
conceal the author. He was not displeased when
gratitude was misplaced, and readily allowed his
instruments to act as if they were principals. He
questioned not the veracity of Craig, and was,
therefore, desirous to free him from the molestation
that was threatened in the way which had
been prescribed. He put a note of one hundred
dollars into his hand, and enjoined him to send it
to the Dudleys that evening, or early the next
morning. I am pleased, he added, with the style
it in my possession.
Craig would much rather have thrown it into
the fire; but he knew the character of his companion,
and was afraid to make any objection to
his request. He promised to send, or carry the
note, the next morning, before he set out on his
intended journey.
This journey was to Baltimore, and was undertaken
so soon merely to oblige his friend, who
was desirous of remitting to Baltimore a considerable
sum in English guineas, and who had been
for some time in search of one who might execute
this commission with fidelity. The offer of
Craig had been joyfully accepted, and next
morning had been the time fixed for his departure,
a period the most opportune for Craig's designs,
that could be imagined.—To return to
Miss Dudley.
The sum that remained to her after the discharge
of her debts, would quickly be expended.
It was no argument of wisdom to lose sight of the
future in the oblivion of present care. The time
would inevitably come when new resources
would be necessary. Every hour brought nearer
the period without facilitating the discovery of
new expedients. She related the recent adventure
to her father. He acquiesced in the propriety
of her measures, but the succour that she
had thus obtained consoled him but little. He
saw how speedily it would again be required, and
was hopeless of a like fortunate occurrence.
Some days had elapsed, and Constantia had
been so fortunate as to procure some employment.
She was thus engaged in the evening
when they were surprised by a visit from their
landlord. This was an occurrence that foreboded
and scarcely noticed the salutations that he received.
His bosom swelled with discontent,
which seemed ready to be poured out upon his
two companions. To the enquiry as to the condition
of his health and that of his family, he surlily
answered; Nevermind how I am: None the
better for my tenants I think. Never was a man
so much plagued as I have been; what with one
putting me off from time to time: What with
another quarrelling about terms, and denying his
agreement, and another running away in my
debt, I expect nothing but to come to poverty,
God help me, at last: but this was the worst of
all. I was never before treated so in all my life.
I don't know what or when I shall get to the end
of my troubles. To be fobbed out of my rent and
twenty five dollars into the bargain! It is very
strange treatment, I assure you, Mr. Dudley.
What is it you mean? replied that gentleman.
You have received your dues, and —
Received my dues, indeed! High enough too!
I have received none of my dues. I have been
imposed upon. I have been put to very great
trouble and expect some compensation. There
is no knowing the character of one's tenants.
There is nothing but knavery in the world, one
would think. I'm sure no man has suffered more
by bad tenants than I have. But this is the
strangest treatment I ever met with. Very
strange indeed Dudley, and I must be paid without
delay. To lose my rent and twenty five dollars
into the bargain, is too hard. I never met
with the equal of it, not I: Besides, I wou'dn't
be put to all this trouble for twice the sum.
What does all this mean, Mr. M'Crea? You
seem inclined to scold, but I cannot conceive
is improper—
No, its very proper, and I want payment of
my money. Fifty dollars you owe me. Miss
comes to me to pay me my rent as I thought. She
brings me a fifty dollar note; I changes it for her,
for I thought to be sure, I was quite safe: but,
behold, when I sends it to the bank to get the
money, they sends me back word that it's forged,
and calls on me, before a magistrate to tell them
where I got it from. I'm sure I never was so
flustered in my life. I would not have such a
thing for ten times the sum.
He proceeded to descant on his loss without
any interruption from his auditors, whom this intelligence
had struck dumb. Mr. Dudley instantly
saw the origin, and full extent of this misfortune.
He was, nevertheless, calm, and indulged
in no invectives against Craig. It is all of a
piece, said he: Our ruin is inevitable. Well,
then, let it come.
After M'Crea had railed himself weary, he
flung out of the house, warning them that, next
morning he should destrain for his rent, and, at
the same time, sue them for the money that Constance
had received in exchange for her note.
Miss Dudley was unable to pursue her task.
She laid down her needle, and fixed her eyes upon
her father. They had been engaged in earnest
discourse when their landlord entered.
Now there was a pause of profound silence, till
the affectionate Lucy, who sufficiently comprehended
this scene, gave vent to her affliction in
sobs. Her mistress turned to her:
Cheer up, my Lucy. We shall do well enough
my girl. Our state is bad enough, without doubt,
but despair will make it worse.
The anxiety that occupied her mind related
less to herself, than to her father. He, indeed,
in the present instance, was exposed to prosecution.
It was he who was answerable for the
debt, and whose person would be thrown into
durance by the suit that was menaced. The horrors
of a prison had not hitherto been experienced,
or anticipated. The worst evil that she had
imagined was inexpressibly inferior to this. The
idea had in it something of terrific and loathsome.
The mere supposition of its being possible was
not to be endured. If all other expedients should
fail, she thought of nothing less than desperate
resistance. No. It was better to die than to go
to prison.
For a time, she was deserted of her admirable
equanimity. This no doubt, was the result of
surprise. She had not yet obtained the calmness
necessary to deliberation. During this gloomy
interval, she would, perhaps, have adopted any
scheme, however dismal and atrocious, which
her father's despair might suggest. She would
not refuse to terminate her own and her father's
unfortunate existence, by poison or the chord.
This confusion of mind could not exist long.
It gradually gave place to cheerful prospects.
The evil perhaps was not without its timely remedy.
The person whom she had set out to visit,
when her course was diverted by Craig, she
once more resolved to apply to; to lay before
him, without reserve, her father's situation, to
entreat pecuniary succour, and to offer herself as
a servant in his family, or in that of any of his
friends who stood in need of one. This resolution,
in a slight degree, consoled her; but her
mind had been too thoroughly disturbed to allow
her any sleep during that night.
She equipped herself betimes, and proceeded
with a doubting heart to the house of Mr. Melbourne.
She was informed that he had risen,
but was never to be seen at so early an hour. At
nine o'clock he would be disengaged, and she
would be admitted. In the present state of her
affairs, this delay was peculiarly unwelcome.
At breakfast, her suspense and anxieties would
not allow her to eat a morsal, and when the hour
approached, she prepared herself for a new attempt.
As she went out, she met at the door a person
whom she recognized, and whose office she knew
to be that of a constable. Constantia had exercised,
in her present narrow sphere, that beneficence
which she had formerly exerted in a larger.
There was nothing, consistent with her slender
means, that she did not willingly perform for the
service of others. She had not been sparing of
consolation and personal aid in many cases of
personal distress that had occurred in her neighbourhood.
Hence, as far as she was known, she
was reverenced.
The wife of their present visitant had experienced
her succour and sympathy, on occasion of
the death of a favorite child. The man, notwithstanding
his office, was not of a rugged or
ungrateful temper. The task that was now imposed
upon him, he undertook with extreme reluctance.
He was somewhat reconciled to it by
the reflection that another might not perform it
with that gentleness and lenity which he found in
himself a disposition to exercise on all occasions,
but particularly on the present.
She easily guessed at his business, and having
greeted him with the utmost friendliness, returned
with him into the house. She endeavoured to
remove the embarrassment that hung about him,
properly calls a distress, he proceeded, after
much hesitation, to inform Dudley that he was
charged with a message from a Magistrate, summoning
him to come forthwith, and account for
having a forged bank-note in his possession.
M'Crea had given no intimation of this. The
painful surprise that it produced, soon yielded to
a just view of this affair. Temporary inconvenience
and vexation was all that could be dreaded
from it. Mr. Dudley hated to be seen or known.
He usually walked out in the dusk of evening,
but limited his perambulations to a short space:
At all other times, he was obstinately recluse.
He was easily persuaded by his daughter to allow
her to perform this unwelcome office in his stead.
He had not received, nor even seen the note.
He would have willingly spared her the mortification
of a judicial examination, but he knew that
this was unavoidable. Should he comply with
this summons himself, his daughter's presence
would be equally necessary.
Influenced by these considerations, he was willing
that his daughter should accompany the messenger,
who was content that they should consult
their mutual convenience in this respect.
This interview was to her, not without its terrors,
but she cherished the hope that it might ultimately
conduce to good. She did not foresee
the means by which this would be effected, but
her heart was lightened by a secret and inexplicable
faith in the propitiousness of some event
that was yet to occur. This faith was powerfully
enforced when she reached the magistrate's door,
and found that he was no other than Melbourne,
whose succour she intended to solicit. She was
speedily ushered, not into his office, but into a
private apartment, where he received her alone.
He had been favorably prepossessed with regard
to her character by the report of the officer,
who, on being charged with the message, had
accounted for the regret which he manifested, by
dwelling on the merits of Miss Dudley. He behaved
with grave civility, requested her to be
seated, and accurately scrutinized her appearance.
She found herself not decived in her preconceptions
of this gentleman's character, and
drew a favorable omen as to the event of this interview,
by what had already taken place. He
viewed her in silence for some time, and then,
in a conciliating tone, said:
It seems to me, madam, as if I had seen you
before. Your face, indeed, is of that kind
which, when once seen, is not easily forgotten.
I know it is a long time since, but I cannot tell
when or where. If you will not deem me impertinent,
I will venture to ask you to assist my
conjectures. Your name as I am informed, is
Acworth—I ought to have mentioned that Mr.
Dudley on his removal from New-York, among
other expedients to obliterate the memory of his
former condition, and conceal his poverty from
the world, had made this change in his name.
That, indeed, said the lady, is the name,
which my father, at present, bears. His real
name is Dudley. His abode was formerly in
Queen-Street, New-York. Your conjecture,
Sir, is not erroneous. This is not the first time
we have seen each other. I well recollect your
having been at my father's house in the days of
his prosperity.
Is it possible? exclaimed Mr. Melbourne,
starting from his seat in the first impulse of his astonishment:
Are you the daughter of my friend
Dudley, by whom I have so often been hospitably
entertained. I have heard of his misfortunes,
of the world he resided.
You are summoned on a very disagreeable affair,
but I doubt not you will easily exculpate
your father. I am told that he is blind, and that his
situation is by no means as comfortable as might
be wished. I am grieved that he did not confide
in the friendship of those that knew him. What
could prompt him to conceal himself?
My father has a proud spirit. It is not yet
broken by adversity. He disdains to beg, but I
must now assume that office for his sake. I came
hither this morning to lay before you his situation,
and to entreat your assistance to save him from a
prison. He cannot pay for the poor tenement he
occupies, and our few goods are already under
distress. He has, likewise, contracted a debt.
He is, I suppose, already sued on this account,
and must go to gaol unless saved by the interposition
of some friend.
It is true, said Melbourne, I yesterday granted
a warrant against him at the suit of Malcolm
M'Crea. Little did I think that the defendant
was Stephen Dudley; but you may dismiss all
apprehensions on that score. That affair shall be
settled to your father's satisfaction: Meanwhile,
we will, if you please, dispatch this unpleasant
business respecting a counterfeit note, received
in payment from you by this M'Cea.
Miss Dudley satisfactorily explained that affair.
She stated the relation in which Craig had formerly
stood to her father, and the acts of which
he had been guilty. She slightly touched on the
distresses which the family had undergone during
their abode in this city, and the means by which
she had been able to preserve her father from
want. She mentioned the circumstances which
compelled her to seek his charity as the last resource,
which she was for the present diverted from that
design. She laid before him a copy of the letter
she had written, and explained the result in the
gift of the note which now appeared to be a
counterfeit. She concluded with stating her present
views, and soliciting him to receive her
into his family, in quality of servant, or use his
interest with some of his friends to procure a
provision of this kind. This tale was calculated
deeply to affect a man of Mr. Melbourne's humanity.
No, said he, I cannot listen to such a request.
My inclination is bounded by my means. These
will not allow me to place you in an independent
situation; but I will do what I can. With your
leave, I will introduce you to my wife, in your
true character. Her good sense will teach her
to set a just value on your friendship. There is
no disgrace in earning your subsistence by your
own industry. She and her friends will furnish
you with plenty of materials, but if there ever be
a deficiency, look to me for a supply.
Constantia's heart overflowed at this declaration.
Her silence was more eloquent than any
words could have been. She declined an immediate
introduction to his wife, and withdrew,
but not till her new friend had forced her to accept
some money.
Place it to account, said he. It is merely paying
you before hand, and discharging a debt at
the time when it happens to be most useful to the
creditor.
To what entire and incredible reverses is the
tenor of human life subject. A short minute
shall effect a transition from a state utterly destitute
of hope, to a condition where all is serene
our exertions to shun, is often found, upon trial,
to be the true road to prosperity.
Constantia retired from this interview with an
heart bounding with exultation. She related to
her father all that had happened. He was pleased
on her account, but the detection of his poverty
by Melbourne was the parent of new mortification.
His only remaining hope relative to himself,
was that he should die in his obscurity,
whereas, it was probable that his old acquaintance
would trace him to his covert. This prognostic
filled him with the deepest inquietude, and
all the reasonings of his daughter were insufficient
to appease him.
Melbourne made his appearance in the afternoon.
He was introduced, by Constantia, to her
father. Mr. Dudley's figure was emaciated, and
his features corroded by his ceaseless melancholy.
His blindness produced in them a woeful and
wildering expression. His dress betokened his
penury, and was in unison with the meanness of
his habitation and furniture. The visitant was
struck with the melancholy contrast, which these
appearances exhibited, to the joyousness and
splendour that he had formerly witnessed.
Mr. Dudley received the salutations of his
guest with an air of embarrassment and dejection.
He resigned to his daughter the task of sustaining
the conversation, and excused himself from
complying with the urgent invitations of Melbourne,
while at the same time, he studiously
forbore all expressions tending to encourage any
kind of intercourse between them.
The guest came with a message from his wife,
who intreated Miss Dudley's company to tea with
her that evening, adding that she should be entirely
alone. It was impossible to refuse compliance
and, in the evening, was introduced to Mrs.
Melbourne, by her husband.
Constantia found in this lady nothing that called
for reverence or admiration, though she could
not deny her some portion of esteem. The impression
which her own appearance and conversation
made upon her entertainer, was much
more powerful and favorable. A consciousness
of her own worth, and disdain of the malevolence
of fortune, perpetually shone forth in her behaviour.
It was modelled by a sort of mean between
presumption on the one hand, and humility
on the other. She claimed no more than
what was justly due to her, but she claimed no
less. She did not soothe our vanity nor fascinate
our pity by diffident reserves and flutterings.
Neither did she disgust by arrogant negligence,
and uncircumspect loquacity.
At parting, she received commissions in the
way of her profession, which supplied her with
abundant and profitable employment. She
abridged her visit on her father's account, and
parted from her new friend just early enough to
avoid meeting with Ormond, who entered the
house a few minutes after she had left it.
What pity, said Melbourne to him, you did
not come a little sooner. You pretend to be a
judge of beauty. I should like to have heard
your opinion of a face that has just left us.
Describe it, said the other.
That is beyond my capacity. Complexion,
and hair, and eyebrows may be painted, but
these are of no great value in the present case.
It is in the putting them together, that nature
has here shewn her skill, and not in the structure
of each of the parts, individually considered.
Perhaps you may at some time meet each other
mix a little common sense with his science, this
girl might hope for an husband, and her father
for a natural protector.
Are they in search of one or the other?
I cannot say they are. Nay, I imagine they
would bear any imputation with more patience
than that, but certain I am, they stand in need
of them. How much would it be to the honor
of a man like you rioting in wealth, to divide it
with one, lovely and accomplished as this girl is,
and struggling with indigence.
Melbourne then related the adventure of the
morning. It was easy for Ormond to perceive
that this was the same person of whom he already
had some knowledge—but there were some particulars
in the narrative that excited surprise.
A note had been received from Craig, at the
first visit in the evening, and this note was for no
more than fifty dollars. This did not exactly
tally with the information received from Craig.
But this note was forged. Might not this girl
mix a little imposture with her truth? Who
knows her temptations to hypocrisy? It might
have been a present from another quarter, and
accompanied with no very honorable conditions.
Exquisite wretch! Those whom honesty will not
let live, must be knaves. Such is the alternative
offered by the wisdom of society.
He listened to the tale with apparent indifference.
He speedily shifted the conversation to
new topics, and put an end to his visit sooner
than ordinary.
| CHAPTER XI. Ormond, or, The secret witness | |