University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

When once the subject had been introduced,
Helena was prone to descant upon her own
situation, and listened with deference to the remarks
and admonitions of her companion. Constantia
did not conceal from her any of her sentiments.
She enabled her to view her own condition
in its true light, and set before her the indispensible
advantages of marriage, while she, at
the same time, afforded her the best directions as
to the conduct she ought to pursue in order to effect
her purpose.

The mind of Helena was thus kept in a state of
perpetual and uneasy fluctuation. While absent
from Ormond, or listening to her friend's remonstrances,
the deplorableness of her condition, arose
in its most disastrous hues, before her imagination.
But the spectre seldom failed to vanish at
the approach of Ormond. His voice dissipated
every inqnietude.

She was not insensible of this inconstancy.
She perceived and lamented her own weakness.
She was destitute of all confidence in her own
exertions. She could not be in the perpetual enjoyment

of his company. Her intervals of tranquility
therefore were short, while those of anxiety
and dejection were insupportably tedious.
She revered, but, believed herself incapable to
emulate the magnanimity of her monitor. The
consciousness of inferiority, especially in a case
like this, in which her happiness so much depended
on her own exertions, excited in her the most
humiliating sensations.

While indulging in fruitless melancholy, the
thought one day occurred to her, why may not
Constantia be prevailed upon to plead my cause?
Her capacity and courage are equal to any undertaking.
The reasonings that are so powerful in
my eyes, would they be trivial and futile in those
of Ormond? I cannot have a more pathetic and
disinterested advocate.

This idea was cherished with uncommon ardour.
She seized the first opportunity that offered
itself to impart it to her friend. It was a
wild and singular proposal and was rejected at
the first glance. This scheme, so romantic and
impracticable as it at first seemed, appeared to
Hellen in the most plausible colours. She could
not bear to relinquish her new born hopes. She
saw no valid objection to it. Every thing was
easy to her friend, provided her sense of duty and
her zeal could be awakened. The subject was
frequently suggested to Constantia's reflections.
Perceiving the sanguineness of her friend's confidence,
and fully impressed with the value of
the end to be accomplished, she insensibly veered
to the same opinion. At least, the scheme was
worthy of a candid discussion before it was rejected.

Ormond was a stranger to her. His manners
were repulsive and austere. She was a mere
girl. Her personal attachment to Helena was

all that she could plead in excuse for taking part
in her concerns. The subject was delicate. A
blunt and irregular character like Ormond's,
might throw an air of ridicule over the scene.
She shrunk from the encounter of a boisterous and
manlike spirit.

But were not these scruples effeminate and puerile?
Had she studied so long in the school of
adversity, without conviction of the duty of a
virtuous independence? Was she not a rational
being, fully imbued with the justice of her
cause? Was it not ignoble to refuse the province
of a vindicator of the injured, before any tribunal,
however tremendous or unjust? And who
was Ormond, that his eye should inspire terror?

The father or brother of Helena might assume
the office without indecorum. Nay, a mother or
sister might not be debarred from it. Why then
should she who was actuated by equal zeal, and
was engaged, by ties stronger than consanguinity,
in the promotion of her friend's happiness. It
is true she did not view the subject in the light in
which it was commonly viewed by brothers and
parents. It was not a gust of rage that should
transport her into his presence. She did not go
to awaken his slumbering conscience, and abash
him in the pride of guilty triumph, but to rectify
deliberate errors and change his course by the
change of his principles. It was her business to
point out to him the road of duty and happiness,
from which he had strayed with no sinister intentions.
This was to be done without raving and
fury, but with amicable soberness, and in the way
of calm and rational remonstrance. Yet there
were scruples that would not be shut out, and
continually whispered her, What an office is this
for a girl and a stranger to assume?

In what manner should it be performed?
Should an interview be sought, and her ideas be
explained without confusion or faultering, undismayed
by ludicrous airs or insolent frowns? But
this was a point to be examined. Was Ormond
capable of such behaviour? If he were, it would
be useless to attempt the reformation of his errors.
Such a man is incurable and obdurate.
Such a man is not to be sought as the husband of
Helena; but this surely is a different being.

The medium through which she had viewed his
character was an ample one, but might not be
very accurate. The treatment which Helena
had received from him, exclusive of his fundamental
error, betokened a mind to which she did
not disdain to be allied. In spite of his defects
she saw that their elements were more congenial,
and the points of contract, between this person
and herself, more numerous, than between her
and Helena, whose voluptuous sweetness of temper
and mediocrity of understanding, excited in
her bosom no genuine sympathy.

Every thing is progressive in the human mind.
When there is leisure to reflect, ideas will succeed
each other in a long train, before the ultimate
point be gained. The attention must shift
from one side to the other of a given question
many times before it settles. Constantia did not
form her resolutions in haste, but when once
formed, they were exempt from fluctuation. She
reflected before she acted, and therefore acted
with consistency and vigour. She did not apprise
her friend of her intention. She was willing
that she should benefit by her interposition,
before she knew it was employed.

She sent her Lucy with a note to Ormond's
house. It was couched in these terms:

“Constance Dudley requests an interview with
Mr. Ormond. Her business being of some moment,
she wishes him to name an hour when most
disengaged.”

An answer was immediately returned, that at
three o'clock, in the afternoon, he should be glad
to see her.

This message produced no small surprise in Ormond.
He had not withdrawn his notice from
Constance, and had marked, with curiosity and
approbation, the progress of the connexion between
the two women. The impressions which
he had received from the report of Hellen, were
not dissimilar to those which Constance had imbibed,
from the same quarter, respecting himself;
but he gathered from them no suspicion of
the purpose of a visit. He recollected his connection
with Craig. This lady had had an opportunity
of knowing that some connection subsisted
between them. He concluded, that some
information or enquiry respecting Craig, might
occasion this event. As it was, it gave him considerable
satisfaction. It would enable him more
closely to examine one, with respect to whom he
entertained great curiosity.

Ormond's conjecture was partly right. Constantia
did not forget her having traced Craig to
this habitation. She designed to profit by the
occasion, which this circumstance afforded her, of
making some enquiry respecting Craig, in order
to introduce, by suitable degrees, a more important
subject.

The appointed hour having arrived, he received
her in his drawing-room. He knew what was
due to his guest. He loved to mortify, by his
negligence, the pride of his equals and superiors,
but a lower class had nothing to fear from
his insolence. Constantia took the seat that was

offered to her, without speaking. She had made
suitable preparations for this interview, and her
composure was invincible. The manners of her
host were by no means calculated to disconcert
her. His air was conciliating and attentive.

She began with naming Craig, as one known
to Ormond, and desired to be informed of his
place of abode. She was proceeding to apologize
for this request, by explaining in general
terms, that her father's infirmities prevented him
from acting for himself, that Craig was his debtor
to a large amount, that he stood in need of all
that justly belonged to him, and was in pursuit
of some means for tracing Craig to his retreat.
Ormond interrupted her, examining, at the same
time, with a vigilance, somewhat too unsparing,
the effects which his words should produce upon
her.

You may spare yourself the trouble of explaining.
I am acquainted with the whole affair between
Craig and your family. He has concealed
from me nothing. I know all that has passed between
you.

In saying this, Ormond intended that his looks
and emphasis should convey his full meaning. In
the style of her comments he saw none of those
corroborating symptoms that he expected.

Indeed! He has been very liberal of his confidence.
Confession is a token of penitence, but,
alas! I fear he has deceived you. To be sincere
was doubtless his true interest, but he is too much
in the habit of judging superficially. If he has
told you all, there is, indeed, no need of explanation.
This visit is, in that case, sufficiently
accounted for. Is it in your power, Sir, to inform
us whither he has gone?

For what end should I tell you? I promise you
you will not follow him. Take my word for it,

he is totally unworthy of you. Let the past be
no precedent for the future. If you have not
made that discovery yourself, I have made it for
you. I expect, at least, to be thanked for my
trouble.

This speech was unintelligible to Constance.
Her looks betokened a perplexity unmingled with
fear or shame.

It is my way, continued he, to say what I think.
I care little for consequences. I have said that I
know all. This will excuse me for being perfectly
explicit. That I am mistaken is very possible;
but I am inclined to place that matter beyond the
reach of a doubt. Listen to me, and confirm me
in the opinion I have already formed of your good
sense, by viewing, in a just light, the unreservedness
with which you are treated. I have something
to tell, which, if you are wise, you will not
be offended at my telling so roundly. On the
contrary you will thank me, and perceive that
my conduct is a proof of my respect for you. The
person whom you met here is named Craig, but,
as he tells me, is not the man you look for. This
man's brother, the partner of your father, and, as
he assured me, your own accepted and illicitly
gratified lover, is dead.

These words were uttered without any extenuating
hesitation or depression of tone. On the
contrary, the most offensive terms were drawn
out in the most deliberate and emphatic manner.
Constantia's cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled
with indignation, but she forbore to interrupt.
The looks with which she listened to the remainder
of the speech, shewed that she fully comprehended
the scene, and enabled him to comprehend
it. He proceeded.

This man is a brother of that. Their resemblance
in figure occasioned your mistake. Your

father's debtor died, it seems, on his arrival at
Jamaica. There he met with this brother, and
bequeathed to him his property and papers.
Some of these papers are in my possession. They
are letters from Constantia Dudley, and are
parts of an intrigue which, considering the character
of the man, was not much to her honor.
Such was this man's narrative told to me some
time bfore your meeting with him at this house.
I have a right to judge in this affair, that is, I
have a right to my opinion. If I mistake, and I
half suspect myself, you are able, perhaps, to
rectify my error, and in a case like this, doubtless
you will not want the inclination.

Perhaps if the countenance of this man had not
been characterized by the keenest intelligence,
and a sort of careless and overflowing good will,
this speech might have produced different effects.
She was prepared, though imperfectly, for entering
into his character. He waited for an answer,
which she gave without emotion.

You are deceived. I am sorry for your own
sake, that you are. He must had some end in
view, in imposing these falsehoods upon you,
which, perhaps, they have enabled him to accomplish.
As to myself, this man can do me no injury.
I willingly make you my judge. The letters
you speak of will alone suffice to my vindication.
They never were received from me, and
are forgeries. That man always persisted till he
made himself the dupe of his own artifices. That
incident in his plot, on the introduction of which
he probably the most applauded himself, will
most powerfully operate to defeat it.

Those letters never were received from me,
and are forgeries. His skill in imitation extended
no farther in the present case, than my hand-writing.

My modes of thinking and expression
were beyond the reach of his mimicry.

When she had finished, Ormond spent a moment
in ruminating. I perceive you are right,
said he. I suppose he has purloined from me two
hundred guineas, which I entrusted to his fidelity.
And yet I received a letter:—but that may likewise
be a forgery. By my soul, continued he, in
a tone that had more of satisfaction than disappointment
in it, this fellow was an adept at his
trade. I do not repine. I have bought the exhibition
at a cheap rate. The pains that he took
did not merit a less recompense. I am glad that
he was contented with so little. Had he persisted
he might have raised the price far above its
value. 'Twill be lamentable if he receive more
than he stipulated for; if, in his last purchase, the
gallows should be thrown into the bargain. May
he have the wisdom to see that an halter, though
not included in his terms, is only a new instance
of his good fortune: But his cunning will hardly
carry him thus far. His stupidity will, no doubt,
prefer a lingering to a sudden exit.

But this man and his destiny are trifles. Let
us leave them to themselves. Your name is Constance.
'Twas given you I suppose that you
might be known by it. Pr'ythee, Constance,
was this the only purpose that brought you hither?
If it were, it has received as ample a discussion
as it merits. You came for this end, but
will remain, I hope, for a better one. Having
dismissed Craig and his plots, let us now talk of
each other.

I confess, said the lady, with an hesitation she
could not subdue, this was not my only purpose.
One much more important has produced this visit.

Indeed! pray let me know it. I am glad that so
trivial an object as Craig, did not occupy the

first place in your thoughts. Proceed I beseech
you.

It is a subject on which I cannot enter without
hesitation. An hesitation unworthy of me.—

Stop, cried Ormond, rising and touching the
bell, nothing like time to make a conquest of embarrassment.
We will defer this conference six
minutes, just while we eat our dinner.

At the same moment a servant entered, with
two plates and the usual apparatus for dinner.
On seeing this she rose in some hurry, to depart.
I thought, Sir, you were disengaged. I will call
at some other hour.

He seized her hand, and held her from going,
but with an air by no means disrespectful. Nay,
said he, what is it that seares you away? Are
you terrified at the mention of victuals? You
must have fasted long when it comes to that. I
told you true. I am disengaged, but not from the
obligation of eating and drinking. No doubt you
have dined. No reason why I should go without
my dinner. If you do not chuse to partake with
me, so much the better. Your temperance ought
to dispense with two meals in an hour. Be a
looker-on, or, if that will not do, retire into my
library, where, in six minutes, I will be with you;
and lend you my aid in the arduous task of telling
me what you came with an intention of telling.

This singular address disconcerted and abashed
her. She was contented to follow the servant
silently into an adjoining apartment. Here she
reflected with no small surprize on the behaviour
of this man. Though ruffled, she was not heartily
displeased with it. She had scarcely time to
recollect herself, when he entered. He immediately
seated her, and himself opposite to her. He
fixed his eyes without scruple on her face. His
gaze was steadfast, but not insolent or oppressive.

He surveyed her with the looks with which
he would have eyed a charming portrait. His attention
was occupied with what he saw, as that of
an Artist is occupied when viewing a Madonna
of Rafaello. At length he broke silence.

At dinner I was busy in thinking what it was
you had to disclose. I will not fatigue you with
my guesses. They would be impertinent, as long
as the truth is going to be disclosed—He paused,
and then continued: But I see you cannot dispense
with my aid. Perhaps your business relates
to Hellen. She has done wrong, and you
wish me to rebuke the girl.

Constantia profited by this opening, and said,
Yes, she has done wrong. It is true, my business
relates to her. I came hither as a suppliant
in her behalf. Will you not assist her in recovering
the path from which she has deviated?
She left it from confiding more in the judgment
of her guide than her own. There is one method
of repairing the evil. It lies with you to repair
that evil.

During this address, the gaiety of Ormond disappeared.
He fixed his eyes on Constance with
new and even pathetic earnestness. I guessed
as much, said he. I have often been deceived in
my judgment of characters. Perhaps I do not comprehend
your's: Yet it is not little that I have
heard respecting you. Something I have seen.
I begin to suspect a material error in my theory
of human nature. Happy will it be for Hellen if
my suspicions be groundless.

You are Hellen's friend. Be mine also, and
advise me. Shall I marry this girl or not? You
know on what terms we live. Are they suitable
to our respective characters? Shall I wed this
girl, or shall things remain as they are?

I have an irreconcilable aversion to a sad brow
and a sick bed. Hellen is grieved, because her
neighbours sneer and point at her. So far she is
a fool, but that is a folly of which she never will
be cured. Marriage, it seems, will set all right.
Answer me, Constance, shall I marry?

There was something in the tone, but more in
the tenor of this address that startled her. There
was nothing in this man but what came upon her
unaware. This sudden effusion of confidence,
was particularly unexpected and embarrassing.
She scarcely knew whether to regard it as serious
or a jest. On observing her indisposed to speak,
he continued:

Away with these impertinent circuities and
scruples. I know your meaning. Why should I
pretend ignorance, and put you to the trouble of
explanation? You came hither with no other view
than to exact this question, and furnish an answer.
Why should not we come at once to the point?
I have for some time been dubious on this head.
There is something wanting to determine the balance.
If you have that something, throw it into
the proper scale.

You err if you think this manner of addressing
you is wild or improper. This girl is the subject
of discourse. If she was not to be so, why did you
favor me with this visit? You have sought me,
and introduced yourself. I have, in like manner,
overlooked ordinary forms: A negligence that
has been systematic with me; but, in the present
case, particularly justifiable by your example.
Shame upon you, presumptuous girl, to suppose
yourself the only rational being among mankind.
And yet, ifyou thought so, why did you thus unceremoniously
intrude upon my retirements? This
act is of a piece with the rest. It shews you to be
one whose existence I did not believe possible.

Take care. You know not what you have done.
You came hither as Hellen's friend. Perhaps
time may shew that in this visit, you have performed
the behest of her bitterest enemy. But
that is out of season. This girl is our mutual property.
You are her friend; I am her lover. Her
happiness is precious in my eyes and in your's.
To the rest of mankind she is a noisome weed,
that cannot be shunned too cautiously, nor trampled
on too much. If we forsake her, infamy that
is now kept at bay, will seize upon her, and while
it mangles her form, will tear from her her innocence.
She has no arms with which to contend
against that foe. Marriage will place her at
once in security. Shall it be? You have an exact
knowledge of her strength and her weakness.
Of me, you know little. Perhaps, before that
question can be satisfactorily answered, it is requisite
to know the qualities of her husband. Be
my character henceforth the subject of your study.
I will furnish you with all the light in my
power. Be not hasty in deciding, but when your
decision is formed, let me know it.—He waited
for an answer, which she, at length, summoned
resolution enough to give.

You have come to the chief point which I had
in view in making this visit. To say truth, I
came hither to remonstrate with you on withholding
that which Helena may justly claim from
you. Her happiness will be unquestionably restored,
and increased by it. Your's will not be
impaired. Matrimony will not produce any essential
change in your situation. It will produce
no greater or different intercouse than now exists.
Helena is on the brink of a gulf which I shudder
to look upon. I believe that you will not injure
yourself by snatching her from it. I am sure that
you will confer an inexpressible benefit upon her.

Let me then persuade you to do her and yourself
justice.

No persuasion, said Ormond, after recovering
from a fit of thoughtfulness, is needful for this
end; I only want to be convinced. You have
decided, but I fear hastily. By what inscrutable
influences are our steps guided. Come, proceed
in your exhortations. Argue with the utmost
clearness and cogency. Arm yourself with all
the irresistibles of eloquence. Yet you are building
nothing. You are only demolishing. Your
argument is one thing. It's tendency is another;
and is the reverse of all you expect and desire.
My assent will be refused with an obstinacy proportioned
to the force that you exert to obtain it,
and to the just application of that force.

I see, replied the lady, smiling and leaving her
seat, you can talk in riddles, as well as other people.
This visit has been too long. I shall, indeed,
be sorry, if my interference, instead of serving
my friend, has injured her. I have acted an uncommon,
and, as it may seem, an ambiguous
part. I shall be contented with construing my
motives in my own way. I wish you a good
evening.

'Tis false, cried he, sternly, you do not
wish it.

How? Exclaimed the astonished Constance.

I will put your sincerity to the test. Allow me
to spend this evening in your company: Then it
will be well spent, and I shall believe your wishes
sincere: Else, continued he, changing his affected
austerity into a smile, Constance is a liar.

You are a singular man. I hardly know how
to understand you.

Well. Words are made to carry meanings.
You shall have them in abundance. Your house
is your citadel. I will not enter it without leave.

Permit me to visit you when I please. But that
is too much. It is more than I would allow
you. When will you permit me to visit you?

I cannot answer when I do not understand.
You cloathe your thoughts in a garb so uncouth,
that I know not in what light they are to be
viewed.

Well, now, I thought you understood my language,
and were an English-woman, but I will use
another. Shall I have the honor (bowing with a
courtly air of supplication) of occasionally paying
my respects to you at your own dwelling. It
would be cruel to condemn those who have the
happiness of knowing Miss Dudley, to fashionable
restraints. At what hour will she be least incommoded
by a visitant?

I am as little pleased with formalities, replied
the lady, as you are. My friends I cannot see
too often. They need to consult merely their
own convenience. Those who are not my
friends I cannot see too seldom. You have only
to establish your title to that name, and your welcome
at all times, is sure. Till then you must
not look for it.