University of Virginia Library

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 solemnized without delay,
had not a melancholy duty interfered. 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 entreated
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
ingenuous, 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 Hindostan. He was sometimes a
scholar of Benares, and sometimes a disciple of the Mosque.
According to the exigences of the times, he was a pilgrim
to Mecca or to Juggernaut. 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 Philœpemen.
He passed safely through multiplied perils, and
finally, embarking at Salonica, 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
deportment, 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 acuteness 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 a hope, to which every day
added new vigor, 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 unfavorable 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.