University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

Though I had consented to this scheme, I was conscious
that some hazards attended it. I was afraid of
calumny, which might trouble the peace or destroy the
reputation of my friend. I was afraid of my own
weakness, which might be seduced into an indiscreet
marriage, by the charms or sufferings of this bewitching
creature. I felt that there was no price too dear
to save her from slander. A fair fame is of the highest
importance to a young female, and the loss of it
but poorly supplied by the testimony of her own conscience.
I had reason for tenfold solicitude on this account,
since I was her only protector and friend.
Hence, I cherished some hopes, that time might change
her views, and suggest less dangerous schemes. Mean
while, I was to lose no time in visiting Malverton and
Philip Hadwin.

About ten days had elapsed since we had deserted
Malverton. These were days of successive storms,
and travelling had been rendered inconvenient. The
weather was now calm and clear, and, early in the
morning that ensued the dialogue which I have just
related, I set out on horseback.

Honest Caleb was found, eating his breakfast, nearly
in the spot where he had been first discovered.

He answered my enquiries by saying, that, two days
after our departure, several men had come to the house,
one of whom was Philip Hadwin. They had interrogated
him as to the condition of the farm, and the purpose
of his remaining on it. William Hadwin they
knew to have been sometime dead, but where were the
girls, his daughters?

Caleb answered that Susy, the eldest, was likewise
dead.

These tidings excited astonishment. When died
she, and how, and where was she buried?

It happened two days before, and she was buried, he
believed, but could not tell where.

Not tell where? By whom then was she buried?

Really, he could not tell. Some strange man came
there just as she was dying. He went to the room, and
when she was dead, took her away, but what he did
with the body, was more than he could say, but he had
a notion that he buried it. The man staid till the
morning, and then went off with Lizzy, leaving him to
keep house by himself. He had not seen either of
them, nor indeed, a single soul since.

This was all the information that Caleb could afford
the visitants. It was so lame and incredible, that they
began to charge the man with falsehood, and to threaten
him with legal animadversion. Just then, Mr. Ellisentered
the house, and being made acquainted with the subject
of discourse, told all that he himself knew. He related
the midnight visit which I had paid him, explained my
former situation in the family, and my disappearance in
September. He stated the advice he had given me to
carry Eliza to her uncle's, and my promise to comply
with his counsel. The uncle declared he had seen nothing
of his niece, and Caleb added, that when she set
out, she took the road that led to town.

These hints afforded grounds for much conjecture
and suspicion. Ellis now mentioned some intelligence
that he had gathered respecting me in a late journey to
_____. It seems I was the son of an honest
farmer in that quarter, who married a tidy girl of a

milk maid, that lived with him. My father had detected
me in making some atrocious advances to my mother-in-law,
and had turned me out of doors. I did not
go off, however, without rifling his drawer of some
hundreds of dollars, which he had laid up against a rainy
day. I was noted for such pranks, and was hated by
all the neighbors for my pride and laziness. It was
easy by comparison of circumstances, for Ellis to ascertain
that Hadwin's servant Mervyn, was the same
against whom such hearty charges were laid.

Previously to this journey, he had heard of me from
Hadwin, who was loud in praise of my diligence, sobriety
and modesty. For his part, he had always been
cautious of giving countenance to vagrants, that came
from nobody knew where, and worked their way with a
plausible tongue. He was not surprised to hear it
whispered that Betsey Hadwin had fallen in love
with the youth, and now, no doubt, he had persuaded
her to run away with him. The heiress of a fine
farm was a prize not to be met with every day.

Philip broke into rage at this news; swore that if it
turned out so, his niece should starve upon the town,
and that he would take good care to baulk the lad.
His brother he well knew had left a will, to which he
was executor, and that this will, would in good time,
be forth coming. After much talk and ransacking the
house, and swearing at his truant niece, he and his company
departed, charging Caleb to keep the house and
its contents for his use. This was all that Caleb's memory
had retained of that day's proceedings.

Curling had lately commented on the character of
Philip Hadwin. This man was totally unlike his
brother, was a noted brawler and bully, a tyrant to his
children, a plague to his neighbors, and kept a rendezvous
for drunkards and idlers, at the sign of the Bull's
Head, at_____. He was not destitute of parts,
and was no less dreaded for cunning than malignity.
He was covetous, and never missed an opportunity of
overreaching his neighbor. There was no doubt that
his niece's property would be embezzled, should it ever

come into his hands, and any power which he might obtain
over her person, would be exercised to her destruction.
His children were tainted with the dissoluteness
of their father, and marriage had not repaired the reputation
of his daughters, or cured them of depravity:
this was the man whom I now proposed to visit.

I scarcely need to say that the calumny of Betty
Lawrence gave me no uneasiness. My father had no doubt
been deceived, as well as my father's neighbors, by the
artifices of this woman. I passed among them for a
thief and a profligate, but their error had hitherto been
harmless to me. The time might come which should
confute the tale, without my efforts. Betty, sooner or
later would drop her mask, and afford the antidote to
her own poisons, unless some new incident should occur
to make me hasten the catastrophe.

I arrived at Hadwin's house. I was received with
some attention as a guest. I looked among the pimpled
visages that filled the piazza, for that of the landlord,
but found him in an inner apartment with two or three
more, seated round a table. On intimating my wish to
speak with him alone, the others withdrew.

Hadwin's visage had some traces of resemblance to
his brother; but the meek, placid air, pale cheeks and
slender form of the latter, were powerfully contrasted
with the bloated arrogance, imperious brow and robust
limbs of the former. This man's rage was awakened
by a straw; it impelled him in an instant to oaths and
buffetings, and made his life an eternal brawl. The
sooner my interview with such a personage should be at
an end, the better. I therefore explained the purpose
of my coming as fully and in as few words as possible.

Your name, Sir, is Philip Hadwin. Your brother
William, of Malverton, died lately and left two daughters.
The youngest only is now alive, and I come,
commissioned from her, to inform you, that as no will
of her father's is extant, she is preparing to administer
to his estate. As her father's brother, she thought you
entitled to this information.

The change which took place in the countenance of
this man, during this address, was remarkable, but not
easily described. His cheeks contracted a deeper crimson,
his eyes sparkled, and his face assumed an expression
in which curiosity was mingled with rage. He
bent forwards and said, in an hoarse and contemptuous
tone, pray, is your name Mervyn?

I answered, without hesitation, and as if the question
were wholly unimportant, yes: my name is Mervyn.

God damn it! You then are the damn'd rascal—(but
permit me to repeat his speech without the oaths, with
which it was plentifully interlarded. Not three words
were uttered without being garnished with a—God
damn it! damnation! I'll be damn'd to hell if—and
the like energetic expletives.) You then are the rascal
that robbed Billy's house; that ran away with the
fool his daughter; persuaded her to burn her father's
will, and have the hellish impudence to come into this
house! But I thank you for it. I was going to look
for you—youv'e saved me trouble. I'll settle all accounts
with you here. Fair and softly, my good lad!
If I don't bring you to the gallows—If I let you escape
without such a dressing! Damned impudence! Fellow!
I've been at Malverton. I've heard of your
tricks: so! finding the will not quite to your mind,
knowing that the executor would baulk your schemes,
you threw the will into the fire; you robbed the house
of all the cash, and made off with the girl!—The old
fellow saw it all, and will swear to the truth.

These words created some surprize. I meant not to
conceal from this man the tenor and destruction of the
will, nor even the measures which his niece had taken
or intended to take. What I supposed to be unknown
to him, appeared to have been communicated by the
talkative Caleb, whose mind was more inquisitive and
less sluggish than first appearances had led me to imagine.
Instead of moping by the kitchen fire, when
Eliza and I were conversing in an upper room, it now
appeared that he had reconnoitred our proceedings

through some key hole or crevice, and had related what
he had seen to Hadwin.

Hadwin proceeded to exhaust his rage in oaths and
menaces. He frequently clenched his fist, and thrust
it in my face, drew it back as if to render his blow more
deadly; ran over the same series of exclamations on my
impudence and villainy, and talked of the gallows and
the whipping-post; enforced each word by the epithets
—damnable and hellish—closed each sentence with—and
be curst to you!

There was but one mode for me to pursue: all forcible
opposition to a man of his strength was absurd. It
was my province to make his anger confine itself to
words, and patiently to wait till the paroxism should
end or subside of itself. To effect this purpose, I kept
my seat, and carefully excluded from my countenance
every indication of timidity and panick on the one hand,
and of scorn and defiance on the other. My look and
attitude were those of a man who expected harsh
words, but who entertained no suspicion that blows
would be inflicted.

I was indebted for my safety to an inflexible adherence
to this medium. To have strayed, for a moment, to either
side, would have brought upon me his blows.
That he did not instantly resort to violence, inspired me
with courage, since it depended on myself whether food
should be supplied to his passion. Rage must either
progress or decline, and since it was in total want
of provocation, it could not fail of gradually subsiding.

My demeanor was calculated to damp the flame, not
only by its direct influence but by diverting his attention
from the wrongs which he had received, to the novelty
of my behaviour. The disparity in size and
strength between us, was too evident to make him believe
that I confided in my sinews for my defence; and
since I betrayed neither contempt nor fear; he could
not but conclude that I trusted to my own integrity or
to his moderation. I seized the first pause in his rhetorick
to enforce this sentiment.

You are angry, Mr. Hadwin, and are loud in your
threats, but they do not frighten me. They excite no
apprehension or alarm, because I know myself able to
convince you that I have not injured you. This is an
inn, and I am your guest. I am sure I shall find better
entertainment than blows. Come, continued I,
smiling, it is possible that I am not so mischievous a
wretch as your fancy paints me. I have no claims upon
your niece but that of friendship, and she is now in
the house of an honest man, Mr. Curling, where she
proposes to continue as long as is convenient.

It is true that your brother left a will, which his
daughter burnt in my presence, because she dreaded
the authority which that will gave you, not only over
her property, but person. It is true that on leaving the
house, she took away the money which was now her
own, and which was necessary to subsistence. It is
true that I bore her company, and have left her in an
honest man's keeping. I am answerable for nothing
more. As to you, I meant not to injure you; I advised
not the burning of the will. I was a stranger till after
that event, to your character. I knew neither
good nor ill of you. I came to tell you all this, because,
as Eliza's uncle, you had a right to the information.

So! you come to tell me that she burnt the will,
and is going to administer—to what, I beseech you?
To her father's property? Aye, I warrant you; but
take this along with you, that property is mine; land,
house, stock, every thing. All is safe and snug under
cover of a mortgage, to which Billy was kind enough
to add a bond. One was sued, and the other entered
up, a week ago. So that all is safe under my thumb,
and the girl may whistle or starve for me. I shall
give myself no concern about the strumpet. You
thought to get a prize; but, damn me, you've met
with your match in me. Phil. Haddin's not so easily
choused, I promise you. I intended to give you this
news, and a drubbing into the bargain; but you may
go, and make haste. She burnt the will, did she; because

I was named in it—and sent you to tell me so?
Good souls! It was kind of you, and I am bound to
be thankful. Take her back news of the mortgage;
and, as for you, leave my house. You may go scot
free this time; but I pledge my word for a sound beating
when you next enter these doors. I'll pay it you
with interest. Leave my house, I say!

A mortgage, said I, in a low voice, and affecting
not to hear his commands, that will be sad news for
my friend. Why, sir, you are a fortunate man. Malverton
is an excellent spot; well watered and manured;
newly and completely fenced: not a larger barn
in the county: oxen, and horses, and cows in the best
order: I never sat eyes on a finer orchard. By my
faith, sir, you are a fortunate man. But, pray, what
have you for dinner? I am hungry as a wolf. Order
me a beef-steak, and some potation or other. The bottle
there—it is cyder, I take it; pray, push it to this
side. Saying this, I stretched out my hand towards
the bottle which stood before him.

I confided in the power of a fearless and sedate manner.
Methought that as anger was the food of anger,
it must unavoidably subside in a contest with equability.
This opinion was intuitive, rather than the product of
experience, and perhaps, I gave no proof of my sagacity
in hazarding my safety on its truth. Hadwin's character
made him dreaded and obeyed by all. He had
been accustomed to ready and tremulous submission
from men far more brawny and robust than I was, and
to find his most vehement menaces and gestures, totally
ineffectual on a being so slender and diminutive, at
once wound up his rage and excited his astonishment.
One motion counteracted and suspended the other.
He lifted his hand, but delayed to strike. One blow,
applied with his usual dexterity, was sufficient to destroy
me. Though seemingly careless, I was watchful
of his motions, and prepared to elude the stroke by
shrinking or stooping. Meanwhile, I stretched my hand
far enough to seize the bottle, and pouring its contents
into a tumbler, put it to my lips.

Come, sir, I drink your health, and wish you speedy
possession of Malverton. I have some interest with
Eliza, and will prevail on her to forbear all opposition
and complaint. Why should she complain? While I
live, she shall not be a beggar. No doubt, your claim
is legal, and therefore ought to be admitted. What
the law gave, the law has taken away. Blessed be the
dispensers of law—excellent cyder! open another bottle,
will you, and I beseech hasten dinner, if you would
not see me devour the table.

It was just, perhaps, to conjure up the demon avarice to
fight with the demon anger. Reason alone, would, in
such a contest, be powerless, but, in truth, I spoke
without artifice or disguise. If his claim were legal,
opposition would be absurd and pernicious. I meant
not to rely upon his own assertions, and would not acknowledge
the validity of his claim, till I had inspected
the deed. Having instituted suits, this was now in a
public office, and there the inspection should be made.
Meanwhile, no reason could be urged why I should part
from him in anger, while his kindred to Eliza, and his
title to her property, made it useful to secure his favor.
It was possible to obtain a remission of his claims, even
when the law enforced them: it would be imprudent at
least to diminish the chances of remission by festering
his wrath and provoking his enmity.

What, he exclaimed, in a transport of fury, a'n't I
master of my own house? Out, I say!

These were harsh terms, but they were not accompanied
by gestures and tones so menacing as those
which had before been used. It was plain that the
tide, which so lately threatened my destruction, had
oegun to recede. This encouraged me to persist.

Be not alarmed, my good friend, said I, placidly
and smiling. A man of your bone need not
fear a pigmy like me. I shall scarcely be able to dethrone
you in your own castle, with an army of hostlers,
tapsters, and cooks at your beck. You shall still
be master here, provided you use your influence to procure
me a dinner.

His acquiescence in a pacific system, was extremely
reluctant and gradual. He laid aside one sullen tone
and wrathful look after the other; and, at length,
consented not only to supply me with a dinner, but to
partake of it with me. Nothing was more a topic of
surprize to himself, than his forbearance. He knew
not how it was. He had never been treated so before.
He was not proof against entreaty and submission; but
I had neither supplicated nor submitted. The stuff
that I was made of was at once damnably tough and
devilishly pliant. When he thought of my impudence,
in staying in his house after he had bade me leave it, he
was tempted to resume his passion. When he reflected
on my courage, in making light of his anger, notwithstanding
his known impetuosity and my personal inferiority,
he could not withhold his esteem. But my patience
under his rebukes, my unalterable equanimity,
and my ready consent to the validity of his claims,
scothed and propitiated him.

An exemption from blows and abuse was all that I
could gain from this man. I told him the truth, with
regard to my own history, so far as it was connected
with the Hadwins. I exhibited, in affecting colours,
the helpless condition of Eliza; but could extort from
him nothing but his consent, that, if she chose, she
might come and live with him. He would give her
victuals and clothes for so much house-work as she was
able to do. If she chose to leve elsewhere, he promised
not to molest her, or intermeddle in her concerns.
The house and land were his by law, and he would
have them.

It was not my province to revile, or expostulate with
him. I stated what measures would be adopted by a
man who regarded the interest of others more than his
own; who was anxious for the welfare of an innocent
girl, connected with him so closely by the ties of kindred,
and who was destitute of what is called natural
friends. If he did not cancel, for her sake, his bond
and mortgage, he would, at least, afford her a frugal
maintainance. He would extend to her, in all emergences,
his counsel and protection.

All that, he said, was sheer nonsense. He could
not sufficiently wonder at my folly, in proposing to him
to make a free gift of an hundred rich acres, to a girl
too who scarcely knew her right hand from her left;
whom the first cunning young rogue, like myself, would
chouse out of the whole, and take herself into the bargain.
But my folly was even surpassed by my impudence,
since, as the friend of this girl, I was merely
petitioning on my own account. I had come to him,
whom I never saw before, on whom I had no claim,
and who, as I well knew, had reason to think me a
sharper, and modestly said—“Here's a girl who has
no fortune. I am greatly in want of one. Pray, give
her such an estate that you have in your possession.
If you do,I'll marry her, and take it into my own hands.”
I might be thankful that he did not answer such a petition
with an horse-whipping. But if he did not give
her his estate, he might extend to her, forsooth, his
counsel and protection. That I've offered to do, continued
he. She may come and live in my house, if she
will. She may do some of the family work. I'll discharge
the chamber-maid to make room for her. Lizzy,
if I remember right, has a pretty face. She can't
have a better market for it than as chamber-maid to an
inn. If she minds her p's and q's she may make up a
handsome sum at the year's end.

I thought it time to break off the conference; and,
my dinner being finished, took my leave; leaving behind
me the character of a queer sort of chap. I speeded
to the prothonotary's office, which was kept in the
village, and quickly ascertained the truth of Hadwin's
pretensions. There existed a mortgage, with bond and
warrant of attorney, to so great an amount as would
swallow up every thing at Malverton. Furnished with
these tidings, I prepared, with a drooping heart, to
return to Mr. Curling's.