University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

It was not in my power to release my friend by the
payment of his debt; but, by contracting with the
keeper of the prison for his board, I could save him
from famine; and, by suitable exertions, could procure
him lodging as convenient as the time would admit.
I could promise to console and protect his sisters, and,
by cheerful tones and frequent visits, dispel some part
of the evil which encompassed him.

After the first surprize had subsided, he enquired by
what accident this meeting had been produced. Conscious
of my incapacity to do him any essential service,
and unwilling to make me a partaker in his miseries, he
had forborne to inform me of his condition.

This assurance was listened to with some wonder.
I showed him the billet. It had not been written by
him. He was a stranger to the penmanship. None
but the attorney and officer were apprized of his fate.
It was obvious to conclude, that this was the interposition
of some friend, who, knowing my affection for
Carlton, had taken this mysterious method of calling
me to his succour.

Conjectures, as to the author and motives of this
interposition, were suspended by more urgent considerations.

I requested an interview with the keeper, and
enquired how Carlton could be best accommodated.

He said, that all his rooms were full but one, which,
in consequence of the dismission of three persons in
the morning, had at present but one ten nt. This
person had lately arrived, was sick, and had with him,
at this time, one of his friends. Carlton might divide
the chamber with this person. No doubt his consent
would be readily given; though this arrangement, being
the best, must take place whether he consented or
not.

This consent I resolved immediately to seek, and,
for that purpose, desired to be led to the chamber.
The door of the apartment was shut. I knocked for
admission. It was instantly opened, and I entered.
The first person who met my view was—Arthur Mervyn.

I started with astonishment. Mervyn's countenance
betrayed nothing but satisfaction at the interview.
The traces of fatigue and anxiety gave place to tenderness
and joy. It readily occurred to me that Mervyn
was the writer of the note which I had lately received.
To meet him within these walls, and at this
time, was the most remote and undesirable of all contingences.
The same hour had thus made me acquainted
with the kindred and unwelcome fate of two beings
whom I most loved.

I had scarcely time to return his embrace, when,
taking my hand, he led me to a bed that stood in one
corner. There was stretched upon it one whom a second
glance enabled me to call by his name, though I
had never before seen him. The vivid portrait which
Mervyn had drawn was conspicuous in the sunken and
baggard visage before me. This face had, indeed,
proportions and lines which could never be forgotten
or mistaken. Welbeck, when once seen or described,
was easily distinguished from the rest of mankind.
He had stronger motives than other men for abstaining
from guilt, the difficulty of concealment or disguise
being tenfold greater in him than in others, by reason

of the indelible and eye-attracting marks which nature
had set upon him.

He was pallid and emaciated. He did not open his
eyes on my entrance. He seemed to be asleep; but,
before I had time to exchange glances with Mervyn,
or to enquire into the nature of the scene, he awoke.
On seeing me he started, and cast a look of upbraiding
on my companion. The latter comprehended his emotion
and endeavored to appease him.

This person, said he, is my friend. He is likewise
a physician; and, perceiving your state to require medical
assistance, I ventured to send for him.

Welbeck replied, in a contemptuous and indignant
tone, thou mistakest my condition, boy. My disease lies
deeper than his scrutiny will ever reach. I had hoped
thou wert gone. Thy importunities are well meant,
but they aggravate my miseries.

He now rose from the bed, and continued, in a firm
and resolute tone, you are intruders into this apartment.
It is mine, and I desire to be left alone.

Mervyn returned, at first, no answer to this address.
He was immersed in perplexity. At length, raising
his eyes from the floor, he said, my intentions are indeed
honest, and I am grieved that I want the power
of persuasion. To-morrow, perhaps, I may reason
more cogently with your despair, or your present mood
may be changed. To aid my own weakness I will entreat
the assistance of this friend.

These words roused a new spirit in Welbeck. His
confusion and anger encressed. His tongue faultered
as he exclaimed, good God! what mean you? Headlong
and rash as you are, you will not share with this
person your knowledge of me?— Here he checked himself,
conscious that the words he had already uttered
tended to the very end which he dreaded. This consciousness,
added to the terror of more ample disclosures,
which the simplicity and rectitude of Mervyn
might prompt him to make, chained up his tongue, and
covered him with dismay.

Mervyn was not long in answering—I comprehend
your fears and your wishes. I am bound to tell you the
truth. To this person your story has already been told.
Whatever I have witnessed under your roof, whatever I
have heard from your lips, have been faithfully disclosed
to him.

The countenance of Welbeck now betrayed a mixture
of incredulity and horror. For a time his utterance
was stifled by his complicated feelings.

It cannot be. So enormous a deed is beyond thy
power. Thy qualities are marvellous. Every new act
of thine outstrips the last, and belies the newest calculations.
But this—this perfidy exceeds—This outrage
upon promises, this violation of faith, this blindness
to the future is incredible. There he stopped;
while his looks seemed to call upon Mervyn for a contradiction
of his first assertion.

I know full well how inexpiably stupid or wicked my
act will appear to you, but I will not prevaricate or
lie. I repeat, that every thing is known to him.
Your birth; your early fortunes; the incidents at
Charleston and Wilmington; your treatment of the
brother and sister; your interview with Watson, and
the fatal issue of that interview—I have told him all,
just as it was told to me.

Here the shock that was felt by Welbeck overpowered
his caution and his strength. He sunk upon the
side of the bed. His air was still incredulous, and he
continued to gaze upon Mervyn. He spoke in a tone
less vehement.

And hast thou then betrayed me? Hast thou shut
every avenue to my return to honor? Am I known to
be a seducer and assassin? To have meditated all
crimes, and to have perpetrated the worst?

Infamy and death are my portion. I know they are
reserved for me; but I did not think to receive them
at thy hands, that under that innocent guise there
lurked a heart treacherous and cruel. But go; leave
me to myself. This stroke has exterminated my remnant

of hope. Leave me to prepare my neck for the
halter, and my lips for this last, and bitterest cup.

Mervyn struggled with his tears and replied, all this
was foreseen, and all this I was prepared to endure.
My friend and I will withdraw, as you wish; but to-morrow
I return; not to vindicate my faith or my humanity;
not to make you recant your charges, or forgive
the faults which I seem to have committed, but
to extricate you from your present evil, or to arm you
with fortitude.

So saying he led the way out of the room. I followed
him in silence. The strangeness and abruptness
of this scene left me no power to assume a part in it.
I looked on with new and indescribable sensations. I
reached the street before my recollection was perfectly
recovered. I then reflected on the purpose that had
led me to Welbeck's chamber. This purpose was yet
unaccomplished. I desired Mervyn to linger a moment
while I returned into the house. I once more enquired
for the keeper, and told him I should leave to
him the province of acquainting Welbeck with the necessity
of sharing his apartment with a stranger. I
speedily rejoined Mervyn in the street.

I lost no time in requiring an explanation of the
scene that I had witnessed. How became you once
more the companion of Welbeck? Why did you not
inform me by letter of your arrival at Malverton, and
of what occurred during your absence? What is the
fate of Mr. Hadwin and of Wallace?

Alas! said he, I perceive, that, though I have written,
you have never received my letters. The tale of
what has occurred since we parted is long and various.
I am not only willing but eager to communicate the
story, but this is no suitable place. Have patience till
we reach your house. I have involved myself in perils
and embarrassments from which I depend upon
your counsel and aid to release me.

I had scarcely reached my own door, when I was
overtaken by a servant, whom I knew to belong to the
family in which Carlton and his sisters resided. Her

message, therefore, was readily guessed. She came,
as I expected, to enquire for my friend, who had left
his home in the morning with a stranger, and had not
yet returned. His absence had occasioned some inquietude,
and his sister had sent this message to me, to
procure what information respecting the cause of his
detention I was able to give.

My perplexity hindered me, for some time, from answering.
I was willing to communicate the painful
truth with my own month. I saw the necessity of putting
an end to her suspence, and of preventing the
news from reaching her with fallacious aggravations or
at an unseasonable time.

I told the messenger, that I had just parted with
Mr. Carlton, that he was well, and that I would
speedily come and acquaint his sister with the cause of
his absence.

Though burning with curiosity respecting Mervyn
and Welbeck, I readily postponed its gratification till
my visit to Miss Carlton was performed. I had rarely
seen this lady; my friendship for her brother, though
ardent, having been lately formed, and chiefly matured
by interviews at my house. I had designed to introduce
her to my wife, but various accidents had hindered
the execution of my purpose. Now consolation and
counsel was more needed than ever, and delay or reluctance
in bestowing it would have been, in an high
degree, unpardonable.

I therefore parted with Mervyn, requesting him to
await my return, and promising to perform the engagement
which compelled me to leave him with the utmost
dispatch. On entering Miss Carlton's apartment, I
assumed an air of as much tranqillity as possible. I
found the lady seated at a desk, with pen in hand and
parchment before her. She greeted me with affectionate
dignity, and caught from my countenance that
cheerfulness of which on my entrance she was destitute.

You come, said she, to inform me what has made
my brother a truant to-day. Till your message was

received I was somewhat anxious. This day he usually
spends in rambling through the fields, but so bleak and
stormy an atmosphere I suppose would prevent his excursion.
I pray, sir, what is it detains him?

To conquer my embarrassment, and introduce the
subject by indirect and cautious means, I eluded her
question, and casting an eye at the parchment, how
now? said I; this is strange employment for a lady.
I knew that my friend pursued this trade, and lived by
binding fast the bargains which others made, but I
knew not that the pen was ever usurped by his sister.

The usurpation was prompted by necessity. My
brother's impatient temper and delicate frame unfitted
him for this trade. He pursued it with no less reluctance
than diligence, devoting to the task three nights
in the week and the whole of each day. It would long
ago have killed him, if I had not bethought myself of
sharing his tasks. The pen was irksome and toilsome
at first, but use has made it easy, and far more eligible
than the needle, which was formerly my only tool.

This arrangement affords my brother opportunities
of exercise and recreation, without diminishing our
profits; and my time, though not less constantly, is
more agreeably, as well as more lucratively, employed
than formerly.

I admire your reasoning. By this means provision
is made against untoward accidents. If sickness should
disable him, you are qualified to pursue the same means
of support.

At these words the lady's countenance changed.
She put her hand on my arm, and said, in a fluttering
and hurried accent, is my brother sick?

No. He is in perfect health. My observation was
an harmless one. I am sorry to observe your readines
to draw alarming inferences. If I were to say, that
your scheme is useful to supply deficiencies, not only
when your brother is disabled by sickness, but when
thrown, by some inhuman creditor, into jail, no doubt
you would perversely and hastily infer that he is now in
prison.

I had scarcely ended the sentence, when the piercing
eyes of the lady were anxiously fixed upon mine. After
a moment's pause, she exclaimed—The inference,
indeed, is too plain. I know his fate. It has long
been foreseen and expected, and I have summoned up
my equanimity to meet it. Would to Heaven he may
find the calamity as light as I should find it; but I fear
his too irritable spirit.

When her fears were confirmed, she started out into
no vehemence of exclamation. She quickly suppressed
a few tears which would not be withheld, and listened
to my narrative of what had lately occurred, with tokens
of gratitude.

Formal consolation was superfluous. Her mind was
indeed more fertile than my own in those topics which
take away its keenest edge from affliction. She observed
that it was far from being the henviest calamity
which might have happened. The creditor was perhaps
vincible by arguments and supplications. If these
should succeed, the disaster would not only be removed,
but that security from future molestation, be gained, to
which they had for a long time been strangers.

Should he be obdurate, their state was far from being
hopeless. Carlton's situation allowed him to pursue
his profession. His gains would be equal, and his expences
would not be augmented. By their mutual industry
they might hope to amass sufficient to discharge
the debt at no very remote period.

What she chiefly dreaded was the pernicious influence
of dejection and sedentary labor on her brother's
health. Yet this was not to be considered as inevitable.
Fortitude might be inspired by exhortation and
example, and no condition precluded us from every
species of bodily exertion. The less inclined he should
prove to cultivate the means of deliverance and happiness
within his reach, the more necessary it became for
her to stimulate and fortify his resolution.

If I were captivated by the charms of this lady's
person and carriage, my reverence was excited by these
proofs of wisdom and energy. I zealously promised to

concur with her in every scheme she should adopt for
her own or her brother's advantage; and after spending
some hours with her, took my leave.

I now regretted the ignorance in which I had hitherto
remained respecting this lady. That she was, in an
eminent degree, feminine and lovely, was easily discovered;
but intellectual weakness had been rashly inferred
from external frailty. She was accustomed to shrink
from observation, and reserve was mistaken for timidity.
I called on Carlton only when numerous engagements
would allow, and when by some accident, his customary
visits had been intermitted. On those occasions,
my stay was short, and my attention chiefly confined
to her brother. I now resolved to atone for my
ancient negligence, not only by my own assiduities, but
by those of my wife.

On my return home, I found Mervyn and my wife
in earnest discourse. I anticipated the shock which
the sensibility of the latter would receive from the tidings
which I had to communicate respecting Carlton.
I was unwilling, and yet perceived the necessity, of disclosing
the truth. I desired to bring these women, as
soon as possible, to the knowledge of each other, but
the necessary prelude to this was an acquaintance with
the disaster that had happened.

Scarcely had I entered the room, when Mervyn
turned to me and said, with an air of anxiety and impatience—Pray,
my friend, have you any knowledge of
Francis Carlton?

The mention of this name by Mervyn, produced
some surprize. I acknowledged my acquaintance with
him.

Do you know in what situation he now is?

In answer to this question, I stated by what singular
means his situation had been made known to me, and
the purpose, from the accomplishment of which, I
had just returned. I enquired, in my turn, whence
originated this question?

He had overheard the name of Carlton in the prison
Two persons were communing in a corner, and accident

enabled him to catch this name, though uttered by
them in an half whisper, and to discover that the person
talked about, had lately been conveyed thither.

This name was not now heard for the first time. It
was connected with remembrances that made him anxious
for the fate of him to whom it belonged. In discourse
with my wife, this name chanced to be again
mentioned, and his curiosity was roused afresh. I was
willing to communicate all that I knew, but Mervyn's
own destiny was too remarkable not to absorb all my
attention, and I refused to discuss any other theme till
that were fully explained. He postponed his own gratification
to mine, and consented to relate the incidents
that had happened from the moment of our separation
till the present.