University of Virginia Library

6. EDGAR HUNTLY.
CHAPTER VI.

How propitious, how incredible
was this event! I could scarcely
confide in the testimony of my senses.
Was it true that Clarice was before me,
that she was prepared to countenance
my presumption, that she had slighted
obstacles which I had deemed insurmountable,
that I was fondly beloved by
her, and should shortly be admitted to
the possession of so inestimable a good?
I will not repeat the terms in which I
poured forth, at her feet, the raptures of
my gratitude. My impetuosity soon extorted
from Clarice, a confirmation of

her mother's declaration. An unrestrained
intercourse was thenceforth established
between us. Dejection and languor
gave place, in my bosom, to the irradiations
of joy and hope. My flowing
fortunes seemed to have attained their
utmost and immutable height.

Alas! They were destined to ebb
with unspeakably greater rapidity, and to
leave me, in a moment, stranded and
wrecked.

Our nuptials would have been solemnised
without delay, had not a melancholy
duty interferred. Clarice had a
friend in a distant part of the kingdom.
Her health had long been the prey of a
consumption. She was now evidently
tending to dissolution. In this extremity
she intreated her friend to afford her the
consolation of her presence. The only
wish that remained was to die in her
arms

This request could not but be willingly
complied with. It became me
patiently to endure the delay that would
thence arise to the completion of my
wishes. Considering the urgency and
mournfulness of the occasion, it was
impossible for me to murmur, and the
affectionate Clarice would suffer nothing
to interfere with the duty which she
owed to her dying friend. I accompanied
her on this journey, remained with
her a few days, and then parted from
her to return to the metropolis. It was
not imagined that it would be necessary
to prolong her absence beyond a month.
When I bade her farewell, and informed
her on what day I proposed to return for
her, I felt no decay of my satisfaction.
My thoughts were bright and full of
exultation. Why was not some intimation
afforded me of the snares that lay in my
path? In the train laid for my destruction,

the agent had so skilfully contrived
that my security was not molested by the
faintest omen.

I hasten to the crisis of my tale. I am
almost dubious of my strength. The
nearer I approach to it, the stronger is
my aversion. My courage, instead of
gathering force as I proceed, decays. I
am willing to dwell still longer on preliminary
circumstances. There are
other incidents without which my story
would be lame. I retail them because
they afford me a kind of respite from
horrors, at the thought of which every
joint in my frame trembles. They must
be endured, but that infirmity may
be forgiven, which makes me inclined to
procrastinate my suffering.

I mentioned the lover whom my
patroness was compelled, by the machinations
of her brother, to discard. More
than twenty years had passed since their

separation. His birth was mean and he
was without fortune. His profession
was that of a surgeon. My lady not only
prevailed upon him to abandon his country,
but enabled him to do this by supplying
his necessities from her own purse.
His excellent understanding was, for a
time, obscured by passion; but it was not
difficult for my lady ultimately to obtain
his concurrence to all her schemes. He
saw and adored the rectitude of her motives,
did not disdain to accept her gifts,
and projected means for maintaining an
epistolary intercourse during their separation.

Her interest procured him a post in
the service of the East-India company.
She was, from time to time, informed of
his motions. A war broke out between
the Company and some of the native
powers. He was present at a great battle
in which the English were defeated.

She could trace him by his letters and
by other circumstances thus far, but
here the thread was discontinued, and
no means which she employed could procure
any tidings of him. Whether he
was captive, or dead, continued, for several
years, to be merely matter of conjecture.

On my return to Dublin, I found my
patroness engaged in conversation with
a stranger. She introduced us to each
other in a manner that indicated the
respect which she entertained for us both.
I surveyed and listened to him with
considerable attention. His aspect was
noble and ingenious, but his sun-burnt and
rugged features bespoke a various and
boisterous pilgrimage. The furrows of
his brow were the products of vicissitude
and hardship, rather than of age. His
accents were fiery and energetic, and the

impassioned boldness of his address, as
well as the tenor of his discourse, full of
allusions to the past, and regrets that the
course of events had not been different,
made me suspect something extraordinary
in his character.

As soon as he left us, my lady explained
who he was. He was no other
than the object of her youthful attachment,
who had, a few days before, dropped
among us as from the skies. He
had a long and various story to tell. He
had accounted for his silence by enumerating
the incidents of his life. (He had
escaped from the prisons of Hyder, had
wandered on foot, and under various
disguises, through the northern district
of Hindoostaun. He was sometimes a
scholar of Benares, and sometimes a
disciple of the Mosque. According to
the exigencies of the times, he was a pilgrim
to Mecca or to Jagunaut. By a

long, circuitous, and perilous route, he at
length arrived at the Turkish capital.
Here he resided for several years, deriving
a precarious subsistence from the
profession of a surgeon. He was obliged
to desert this post, in consequence of
a duel between two Scotsmen. One of
them had embraced the Greek religion,
and was betrothed to the daughter of a
wealthy trader of that nation. He perished
in the conflict, and the family of the
lady not only procured the execution of
his antagonist, but threatened to involve
all those who were known to be connected
with him in the same ruin.

His life being thus endangered, it
became necessary for him to seek a new
residence. He fled from Constantinople
with such precipitation as reduced him
to the lowest poverty. He had traversed
the Indian conquests of Alexander,
as a mendicant. In the same character,

he now wandered over the native country
of Philip and Philœpamen. He passed
safely through multiplied perils, and
finally, embarking at Salonichi, he
reached Venice. He descended through
the passes of the Apennine into Tuscany.
In this journey he suffered a long detention
from banditti, by whom he was
waylaid. In consequence of his harmless
department, and a seasonable display of
his chirurgical skill, they granted him his
life, though they, for a time restrained
him of his liberty, and compelled him to
endure their society. The time was not
misemployed which he spent immured
in caverns and carousing with robbers.
His details were eminently singular and
curious, and evinced the accuteness of
his penetration, as well the steadfastness
of his courage.

After emerging from these wilds, he
found his way along the banks of the

Arno to Leghorn. Thence he procured a
passage to America, whence he had just
returned, with many additions to his experience,
but none to his fortune.

This was a remarkable event. It did
not at first appear how far its consequences
would extend. The lady was, at present,
disengaged and independent. Though
the passion which clouded her early prosperity
was extinct, time had not diminished
the worth of her friend, and they were
far from having reached that age when
love becomes chimerical and marriage
folly. A confidential intercourse was
immediately established between them.
The bounty of Mrs. Lorimer soon divested
her friend of all fear of poverty. At
any rate, said she, he shall wander no
further, but shall be comfortably situated
for the rest of his life. All his scruples
were vanquished by the reasonableness

of her remonstrances and the vehemence
of her solicitations.

A cordial intimacy grew between
me and the newly arrived. Our interviews
were frequent, and our communications
without reserve. He detailed to
me the result of his experience, and expatiated
without end on the history of
his actions and opinions. He related
the adventures of his youth, and dwelt
upon all the circumstances of his attachment
to my patroness. On this subject
I had heard only general details. I continually
found cause, in the course of
his narrative, to revere the illustrious
qualities of my lady, and to weep at the
calamities to which the infernal malice
of her brother had subjected her.

The tale of that man's misdeeds, amplified
and dramatised, by the indignant
eloquence of this historian, oppressed
me with astonishment. If a poet had

drawn such a portrait I should have
been prone to suspect the soundness of
his judgment. Till now I had imagined
that no character was uniform and
unmixed, and my theory of the passions
did not enable me to account
for a propensity gratified merely by evil,
and delighting in shrieks and agony for
their own sake.

It was natural to suggest to my friend,
when expatiating on this theme, an inquiry
as to how far subsequent events
had obliterated the impressions that were
then made, and as to the plausibility of
reviving, at this more auspicious period,
his claims on the heart of his friend.
When he thought proper to notice these
hints, he gave me to understand that time
had made no essential alteration in his
sentiments in this respect, that he still
fostered an hope, to which every day added
new vigour, that whatever was the

ultimate event, he trusted in his fortitude
to sustain it, if adverse, and in his wisdom
to extract from it the most valuable
consequences, if it should prove prosperous.

The progress of things was not unfavourable
to his hopes. She treated
his insinuations and professions with
levity; but her arguments seemed to be
urged, with no other view than to afford
an opportunity of confutation; and, since
there was no abatement of familiarity and
kindness, there was room to hope that
the affair would terminate agreeably to
his wishes.