University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER VII.

Clarice, meanwhile, was absent. Her friend seemed,
at the end of a month, to be little less distant from the grave
than at first. My impatience would not allow me to wait
till her death. I visited her, but was once more obliged to
return alone. I arrived late in the city, and being greatly
fatigued, I retired almost immediately to my chamber.

On hearing of my arrival, Sarsefield hastened to see me.
He came to my bedside, and such, in his opinion, was the
importance of the tidings which he had to communicate, that
he did not scruple to rouse me from a deep sleep.......

At this period of his narrative, Clithero stopped. His
complexion varied from one degree of paleness to another.
His brain appeared to suffer some severe constriction. He
desired to be excused, for a few minutes, from proceeding.
In a short time he was relieved from this paroxysm, and resumed
his tale with an accent tremulous at first, but acquiring
stability and force as he went on.

On waking, as I have said, I found my friend seated at
my bedside. His countenance exhibited various tokens of
alarm. As soon as I perceived who it was, I started, exclaiming,
What is the matter?

He sighed. Pardon, said he, this unseasonable intrusion.
A light matter would not have occasioned it. I have waited,
for two days past, in an agony of impatience, for your return.
Happily, you are, at last, come. I stand in the utmost need
of your counsel and aid.

Heaven defend! cried I. This is a terrible prelude.
You may, of course, rely upon my assistance and advice.
What is it that you have to propose?

Tuesday evening, he answered, I spent here. It was late
before I returned to my lodgings. I was in the act of lifting
my hand to the bell, when my eye was caught by a person
standing close to the wall, at the distance of ten paces.
His attitude was that of one employed in watching my motions.

His face was turned towards me, and happened, at
that moment, to be fully illuminated by the rays of a globelamp
that hung over the door. I instantly recognised his
features. I was petrified. I had no power to execute my
design, or even to move, but stood, for some seconds, gazing
upon him. He was, in no degree, disconcerted by the
eagerness of my scrutiny. He seemed perfectly indifferent
to the consequences of being known. At length he
slowly turned his eyes to another quarter, but without changing
his posture, or the sternness of his looks. I cannot describe
to you the shock which this encounter produced in
me. At last I went into the house, and have ever since
been excessively uneasy.

I do not see any ground for uneasiness.

You do not then suspect who this person is?

No—

It is Arthur Wiatte.—

Good heaven! It is impossible. What, my lady's brother?

The same—

It cannot be. Were we not assured of his death? That
he perished in a mutiny on board the vessel in which he was
embarked for transportation?

Such was rumor, which is easily mistaken. My eyes
cannot be deceived in this case. I should as easily fail to
recognise his sister, when I first met her, as him. This is
the man, whether once dead or not, he is, at present, alive,
and in this city.

But has any thing since happened to confirm you in this
opinion.

Yes, there has. As soon as I had recovered from my
first surprise, I began to reflect upon the measures proper to
be taken. This was the identical Arthur Wiatte. You
know his character. No time was likely to change the
principles of such a man, but his appearance sufficiently betrayed
the incurableness of his habits. The same sullen
and atrocious passions were written in his visage. You recollect
the vengeance which Wiatte denounced against his
sister. There is every thing to dread from his malignity.
How to obviate the danger, I know not. I thought, however,

of one expedient. It might serve a present purpose, and
something better might suggest itself on your return.

I came hither early the next day. Old Gowan the porter
is well acquainted with Wiatte's story. I mentioned to
him that I had reason to think that he had returned. I
charged him to have a watchful eye upon every one that
knocked at the gate, and that if this person should come, by
no means to admit him. The old man promised faithfully
to abide by my directions. His terrors, indeed, were greater
than mine, and he knew the importance of excluding
Wiatte from these walls.

Did you not inform my lady of this?

No. In what way could I tell it to her? What end could
it answer? Why should I make her miserable? But I have
not done. Yesterday morning Gowan took me aside, and
informed me that Wiatte had made his appearance, the day
before, at the gate. He knew him, he said, in a moment.
He demanded to see the lady, but the old man told him she
was engaged, and could not be seen. He assumed peremptory
and haughty airs, and asserted that his business was
of such importance as not to endure a moment's delay.
Gowan persisted in his first refusal. He retired with great
reluctance, but said he should return tomorrow, when he
should insist upon admission to the presence of the lady. I
have inquired, and find that he has not repeated his visit.
What is to be done?

I was equally at a loss with my friend. This incident was
so unlooked for. What might not be dreaded from the
monstrous depravity of Wiatte? His menaces of vengeance
against his sister still rung in my ears. Some means of
eluding them were indispensable. Could law be resorted to?
Against an evil like this, no legal provision had been made.
Nine years had elapsed since his transportation. Seven
years was the period of his exile. In returning, therefore,
he had committed no crime. His person could not be lawfully
molested. We were justified, merely, in repelling an
attack. But suppose we should appeal to law, could this be
done without the knowledge and concurrence of the lady?
She would never permit it. Her heart was incapable of
fear from this quarter. She would spurn at the mention of

precautions against the hatred of her brother. Her inquietude
would merely be awakened on his own account.

I was overwhelmed with perplexity. Perhaps if he were
sought out, and some judgment formed of the kind of danger
to be dreaded from him, by a knowledge of his situation and
views, some expedient might be thence suggested.

But how should his haunts be discovered? This was
easy. He had intimated the design of applying again for
admission to his sister. Let a person be stationed near at
hand, who, being furnished with an adequate description of
his person and dress, shall mark him when he comes, and
follow him, when he retires, and shall forthwith impart to us
the information on that head which he shall be able to collect.

My friend concurred in this scheme. No better could,
for the present, be suggested. Here ended our conference.

I was thus supplied with a new subject of reflection. It
was calculated to fill my mind with dreary forebodings. The
future was no longer a scene of security and pleasure. It
would be hard for those to partake of our fears, who did not
partake of our experience. The existence of Wiatte, was
the canker that had blasted the felicity of my patroness. In
his reappearance on the stage, there was something portentous.
It seemed to include in it, consequences of the utmost
moment, without my being able to discover what these consequences
were.

That Sarsefield should be so quickly followed by his
arch foe; that they started anew into existence, without
any previous intimation, in a manner wholly unexpected,
and at the same period. It seemed as if there lurked, under
those appearances, a tremendous significance, which human
sagacity could not uncover. My heart sunk within me
when I reflected that this was the father of my Clarice. He
by whose cruelty her mother was torn from the enjoyment
of untarnished honor, and consigned to infamy and an untimely
grave. He by whom herself was abandoned in the
helplessness of infancy, and left to be the prey of obdurate
avarice, and the victim of wretches who traffic in virgin innocence.
Who had done all that in him lay to devote her
youth to guilt and misery. What were the limits of his
power? How may he exert the parental prerogatives?

To sleep, while these images were haunting me, was impossible.
I passed the night in continual motion. I strode,
without ceasing, across the floor of my apartment. My
mind was wrought to a higher pitch than I had ever before
experienced. The occasion, accurately considered, was far
from justifying the ominous inquietudes which I then felt.
How then should I account for them?

Sarsefield probably enjoyed his usual slumber. His repose
might not be perfectly serene, but when he ruminated
on impending or possible calamities, his tongue did not cleave
to his mouth, his throat was not parched with unquenchable
thirst, he was not incessantly stimulated to employ his superfluous
fertility of thought in motion. If I trembled for
the safety of her whom I loved, and whose safety was endangered
by being the daughter of this miscreant, had he not
equal reason to fear for her whom he also loved, and who,
as the sister of this ruffian, was encompassed by the most
alarming perils. Yet he probably was calm while I was
harassed by anxieties.

Alas! The difference was easily explained. Such was
the beginning of a series ordained to hurry me to swift destruction.
Such were the primary tokens of the presence
of that power by whose accursed machinations I was destined
to fall. You are startled at this declaration. It is one to
which you have been little accustomed. Perhaps you regard
it merely as an effusion of phrenzy. I know what I
am saying. I do not build upon conjectures and surmises.
I care not indeed for your doubts. Your conclusion may be
fashioned at your pleasure. Would to heaven that my belief
were groundless, and that I had no reason to believe my
intellects to have been perverted by diabolical instigations.

I could procure no sleep that night. After Sarsefield's
departure I did not even lie down. It seemed to me that I
could not obtain the benefits of repose otherwise than by
placing my lady beyond the possibility of danger.

I met Sarsefield the next day. In pursuance of the
scheme which had been adopted by us on the preceding
evening, a person was selected and commissioned to watch
the appearance of Wiatte. The day passed as usual with
respect to the lady. In the evening she was surrounded by
a few friends. Into this number I was now admitted. Sarsefield

and myself made a part of this company. Various
topics were discussed with ease and sprightliness. Her societies
were composed of both sexes, and seemed to have
monopolized all the ingenuity and wit that existed in the
metropolis.

After a slight repast the company dispersed. This separation
took place earlier than usual on account of a slight
indisposition in Mrs. Lorimer. Sarsefield and I went out
together. We took that opportunity of examining our agent,
and receiving no satisfaction from him, we dismissed him,
for that night, enjoining him to hold himself in readiness for
repeating the experiment tomorrow. My friend directed
his steps homeward, and I proceeded to execute a commission,
with which I had charged myself.

A few days before, a large sum had been deposited in the
hands of a banker, for the use of my lady. It was the
amount of a debt which had lately been recovered. It was
lodged here for the purpose of being paid on demand of her
or her agents. It was my present business to receive this
money. I had deferred the performance of this engagement
to this late hour, on account of certain preliminaries which
were necessary to be adjusted.

Having received this money, I prepared to return home.
The inquietude which had been occasioned by Sarsefield's
intelligence, had not incapacitated me from performing my
usual daily occupations. It was a theme, to which, at every
interval of leisure from business or discourse, I did not fail
to return. At those times I employed myself in examining
the subject on all sides; in supposing particular emergencies,
and delineating the conduct that was proper to be observed
on each. My daily thoughts were, by no means, so
fear-inspiring as the meditations of the night had been.

As soon as I left the banker's door, my meditations fell
into this channel. I again reviewed the recent occurrences,
and imagined the consequences likely to flow from them.
My deductions were not, on this occasion, peculiarly distressful.
The return of darkness had added nothing to my
apprehensions. I regarded Wiatte merely as one against
whose malice it was wise to employ the most vigilant precautions.
In revolving these precautions nothing occurred
that was new. The danger appeared without unusual aggravations,

and the expedients that offered themselves to my
choice, were viewed with a temper not more sanguine or
despondent than before.

In this state of mind I began and continued my walk.
The distance was considerable between my own habitation
and that which I had left. My way lay chiefly through
populous and well frequented streets. In one part of the
way, however, it was at the option of the passenger either to
keep along the large streets, or considerably to shorten the
journey, by turning into a dark, crooked, and narrow lane.
Being familiar with every part of this metropolis, and deeming
it advisable to take the shortest and obscurest road, I
turned into the alley. I proceeded without interruption to
the next turning. One night officer, distinguished by his
usual ensigns, was the only person who passed me. I had
gone three steps beyond when I perceived a man by my
side. I had scarcely time to notice this circumstance, when
a hoarse voice exclaimed. "Damn ye villain, ye're a
dead man!"

At the same moment a pistol flashed at my ear, and a report
followed. This, however, produced no other effect,
than, for a short space, to overpower my senses. I staggered
back, but did not fall.

The ball, as I afterwards discovered, had grazed my forehead,
but without making any dangerous impression. The
assassin, perceiving that his pistol had been ineffectual, muttered,
in an enraged tone,—This shall do your business—
At the same time, he drew a knife forth from his bosom.

I was able to distinguish this action by the rays of a distant
lamp, which glistened on the blade. All this passed in
an instant. The attack was so abrupt that my thoughts
could not be suddenly recalled from the confusion into
which they were thrown. My exertions were mechanical.
My will might be said to be passive, and it was only by
retrospect and a contemplation of consequences, that I became
fully informed of the nature of the scene.

If my assailant had disappeared as soon as he had discharged
the pistol, my state of extreme surprise might have
slowly given place to resolution and activity. As it was, my
sense was no sooner struck by the reflection from the blade,

than my hand, as if by spontaneous energy, was thrust into
my pocket. I drew forth a pistol—

He lifted up his weapon to strike, but it dropped from
his powerless fingers. He fell, and his groans informed me
that I had managed my arms with more skill than my adversary.
The noise of this encounter soon attracted spectators.
Lights were brought, and my antagonist discovered
bleeding at my feet. I explained, as briefly as I was able,
the scene which they witnessed. The prostrate person
was raised by two men, and carried into a public house,
nigh at hand.

I had not lost my presence of mind. I, at once, perceived
the propriety of administering assistance to the wounded
man. I despatched, therefore, one of the by-standers
for a surgeon of considerable eminence, who lived at a
small distance, and to whom I was well known. The man
was carried into an inner apartment and laid upon the floor.
It was not till now that I had a suitable opportunity of ascertaining
who it was with whom I had been engaged. I now
looked upon his face. The paleness of death could not
conceal his well known features. It was Wiatte himself who
was breathing his last groans at my feet!—

The surgeon, whom I had summoned, attended; but
immediately perceived the condition of his patient to be
hopeless. In a quarter of an hour he expired. During
this interval, he was insensible to all around him. I was
known to the surgeon, the landlord, and some of the witnesses.
The case needed little explanation. The accident
reflected no guilt upon me. The landlord was charged
with the care of the corse till the morning, and I was allowed
to return home, without further impediment.