University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XIV.

While sitting alone by the parlor fire, marking the
effects of moonlight, I noted one on horseback coming
towards the gate. At first sight, methought his shape and
guise were not wholly new to me; but all that I could discern
was merely a resemblance to some one whom I had
before seen. Presently he stopped, and, looking towards
the house, made inquiries of a passenger who chanced to
be near. Being apparently satisfied with the answers he
received, he rode with a quick pace, into the court and
alighted at the door. I started from my seat, and, going
forth, waited with some impatience to hear his purpose explained.

He accosted me with the formality of a stranger, and
asked if a young man, by name Edgar Huntly, resided
here. Being answered in the affirmative, and being requested
to come in, he entered, and seated himself, without
hesitation, by the fire. Some doubt and anxiety were
visible in his looks. He seemed desirous of information
upon some topic, and yet betrayed terror lest the answers
he might receive should subvert some hope, or confirm
some foreboding.

Meanwhile I scrutinized his features with much solicitude.
A nearer and more deliberate view convinced me that the
first impression was just; but still I was unable to call up
his name or the circumstances of our former meeting.
The pause was at length ended by his saying, in a faltering
voice;—

My name is Weymouth. I came hither to obtain information
on a subject in which my happiness is deeply concerned.

At the mention of his name, I started. It was a name
too closely connected with the image of thy brother, not to
call up affecting and vivid recollections. Weymouth thou
knowest, was thy brother's friend. It is three years since
this man left America, during which time no tidings had
been heard of him, at least, by thy brother. He had now
returned, and was probably unacquainted with the fate of
his friend.

After an anxious pause, he continued—since my arrival
I have heard of an event which has, on many accounts,
given me the deepest sorrow. I loved Waldegrave, and
know not any person in the world whose life was dearer to
me than his. There were considerations, however, which
made it more precious to me than the life of one whose
merits might be greater. With his life, my own existence
and property were, I have reason to think, inseparably
united.

On my return to my country, after a long absence, I
made immediate inquiries after him. I was informed of
his untimely death. I had questions, of infinite moment
to my happiness, to decide with regard to the state and disposition
of his property. I sought out those of his friends
who had maintained with him the most frequent and confidential

intercourse, but they could not afford me any satisfaction.
At length, I was informed that a young man of your
name, and living in this district, had enjoyed more of his
affection and society than any other, had regulated the property
which he left behind, and was best qualified to afford
the intelligence which I sought. You, it seems, are this
person, and of you I must make inquiries to which I conjure
you to return sincere and explicit answers.

That, said I, I shall find no difficulty in doing. Whatever
questions you shall think proper to ask, I will answer
with readiness and truth.

What kind of property and to what amount was your
friend possessed of at his death?

It was money, and consisted of deposits at the bank of
North America. The amount was little short of eight
thousand dollars?

On whom has this property devolved?

His sister was his only kindred, and she is now in possession
of it?

Did he leave any will by which he directed the disposition
of his property? While thus speaking, Weymouth
fixed his eyes upon my countenance, and seemed anxious
to pierce into my inmost soul. I was somewhat surprised
at his questions, but much more at the manner in which
they were put. I answered him, however, without delay.
He left no will, nor was any paper discovered, by which
we could guess at his intentions. No doubt, indeed, had
he made a will his sister would have been placed precisely
in the same condition in which she now is. He was not
only bound to her by the strongest ties of kindred, but by
affection and gratitude.

Weymouth now withdrew his eyes from my face, and
sunk into a mournful reverie. He sighed often and deeply.
This deportment and the strain of his inquiries excited
much surprise. His interest in the fate of Waldegrave
ought to have made the information he had received, a source
of satisfaction rather than of regret. The property which
Waldegrave left was much greater than his mode of life,
and his own professions had given us reason to expect, but
it was no more than sufficient to insure to thee an adequate
subsistence. It ascertained the happiness of those who

were dearest to Waldegrave, and placed them forever beyond
the reach of that poverty which had hitherto beset
them. I made no attempt to interrupt the silence, but prepared
to answer any new interrogatory. At length, Weymouth
resumed;—

Waldegrave was a fortunate man, to amass so considerable
a sum in so short a time. I remember, when we parted,
he was poor. He used to lament that his scrupulous
integrity precluded him from all the common roads to wealth.
He did not contemn riches, but he set the highest value
upon competence; and imagined that he was doomed forever
to poverty. His religious duty compelled him to seek
his livelihood by teaching a school of blacks. The labor
was disproportioned to his feeble constitution, and the profit
was greatly disproportioned to the labor. It scarcely supplied
the necessities of nature, and was reduced sometimes
even below that standard by his frequent indisposition. I
rejoice to find that his scruples had somewhat relaxed their
force, and that he had betaken himself to some more profitable
occupation. Pray, what was his new way of business?

Nay, said I, his scruples continued as rigid, in this respect,
as ever. He was teacher of the Negro free-school
when he died.

Indeed! How then came he to amass so much money?
Could he blend any more lucrative pursuit with his duty as
a school-master?

So it seems.

What was his pursuit?

That question, I believe, none of his friends are qualified
to answer. I thought myself acquainted with the most
secret transactions of his life, but this had been carefully
concealed from me. I was not only unapprised of any
other employment of his time, but had not the slightest suspicion
of his possessing any property besides his clothes and
books. Ransacking his papers, with a different view, I
lighted on his bank-book, in which was a regular receipt for
seven thousand five hundred dollars. By what means he
acquired this money, and even the acquisition of it, till his
death put us in possession of his papers, was wholly unknown
to us.

Possibly he might have held it in trust for another. In
this case some memorandums or letters would be found explaining
this affair.

True. This supposition could not fail to occur, in consequence
of which the most diligent search was made among
his papers, but no shred or scrap was to be found which
countenanced our conjecture.

Your may reasonably be surprised, and perhaps offended,
said Weymouth, at these inquiries; but it is time to explain
my motives for making them. Three years ago I was, like
Waldegrave, indigent, and earned my bread by daily labor.
During seven years service in a public office, I saved, from
the expenses of subsistence, a few hundred dollars. I determined
to strike into a new path, and, with this sum, to
lay the foundation of better fortune. I turned it into a bulky
commodity, freighted and loaded a small vessel, and went
with it to Barcelona in Spain. I was not unsuccessful in
my projects, and, changing my abode to England, France
and Germany, according as my interest required, I became
finally possessed of sufficient for the supply of all my wants.
I then resolved to return to my native country, and, laying
out my money in land, to spend the rest of my days in the
luxury and quiet of an opulent farmer. For this end I invested
the greatest part of my property in a cargo of wine
from Madeira. The remainder I turned into a bill of exchange
for seven thousand five hundred dollars. I had
maintained a friendly correspondence with Waldegrave during
my absence. There was no one with whom I had
lived on terms of so much intimacy, and had boundless
confidence in his integrity. To him therefore I determined
to transmit this bill, requesting him to take the money
into safe keeping until my return. In this manner I endeavored
to provide against the accidents that might befall
my person or my cargo in crossing the ocean.

It was my fate to encounter the worst of these disasters.
We were overtaken by a storm, my vessel was driven ashore
on the coast of Portugal, my cargo was utterly lost, and the
greater part of the crew and passengers were drowned. I
was rescued from the same fate by some fishermen. In
consequence of the hardships to which I had been exposed,
having labored for several days at the pumps, and spent the

greater part of a winter night, hanging from the rigging of
the ship, and perpetually beaten by the waves, I contracted
a severe disease, which bereaved me of the use of my
limbs. The fishermen who rescued me, carried me to their
huts, and there I remained three weeks helpless and miserable.

That part of the coast on which I was thrown, was, in the
highest degree, sterile and rude. Its few inhabitants subsisted
precariously on the produce of the ocean. Their
dwellings were of mud, low, filthy, dark and comfortless.
Their fuel was the stalks of shrubs, sparingly scattered over
a sandy desert. Their poverty scarcely allowed them salt
and black bread with their fish, which was obtained in unequal
and sometimes insufficient quantities, and which they
ate with all its impurities, and half cooked.

My former habits, as well as my present indisposition,
required very different treatment from what the ignorance
and penury of these people obliged them to bestow. I lay
upon the moist earth, imperfectly sheltered from the sky,
and with neither raiment or fire to keep me warm. My
hosts had little attention or compassion to spare to the wants
of others. They could not remove me to a more hospitable
district, and here, without doubt, I should have perished, had
not a monk chanced to visit their hovels. He belonged to
a convent of St. Jago, some leagues farther from the shore,
who used to send one of its members annually to inspect
the religious concerns of those outcasts. Happily this was
the period of their visitations.

My abode in Spain had made me somewhat conversant
with its language. The dialect of this monk did not so
much differ from Castilian, but that, with the assistance of
Latin, we were able to converse. The jargon of the fishermen
was unintelligible, and they had vainly endeavored to
keep up my spirits by informing me of this expected visit.

This monk was touched with compassion at my calamity,
and speedily provided the means of my removal to his convent.
Here I was charitably entertained, and the aid of a
physician was procured for me. He was but poorly skilled
in his profession, and rather confirmed than alleviated my
disease. The Portuguese of his trade, especially in remoter

districts, are little more than dealers in talismans and
nostrums. For a long time I was unable to leave my pallet,
and had no prospect before me but that of consuming my
days in the gloom of this cloister.

All the members of this convent, but he who had been
my first benefactor, and whose name was Chaledro, were
bigoted and sordid. Their chief motive for treating me
with kindness, was the hope of obtaining a convert from
heresy. They spared no pains to subdue my errors, and
were willing to prolong my imprisonment, in the hope of
finally gaining their end. Had my fate been governed by
those, I should have been immured in this convent, and compelled,
either to adopt their fanatical creed or to put an end
to my own life, in order to escape their well meant persecutions.
Chaledro, however, though no less sincere in his
faith and urgent in his entreaties, yet finding me invincible,
exerted his influence to obtain my liberty.

After many delays, and strenuous exertions of my friend,
they consented to remove me to Oporto. The journey was
to be performed in an open cart over a mountainous country,
in the heats of summer. The monks endeavored to dissuade
me from the enterprise, for my own sake, it being scarcely
possible that one in my feeble state, should survive a journey
like this; but I despaired of improving my condition by other
means. I preferred death to the imprisonment of a Portuguese
monastery, and knew that I could hope for no alleviation
of my disease, but from the skill of Scottish or French
physicians, whom I expected to meet with in that city. I
adhered to my purpose with so much vehemence and
obstinacy, that they finally yielded to my wishes.

My road lay through the wildest and most rugged districts.
It did not exceed ninety miles, but seven days were
consumed on the way. The motion of the vehicle racked
me with the keenest pangs, and my attendants concluded
that every stage would be my last. They had been selected
without due regard to their characters. They were knavish
and inhuman, and omitted nothing, but actual violence to
hasten my death. They purposely retarded the journey,
and protracted to seven, what might have been readily performed
in four days. They neglected to execute the orders
which they had received, respecting my lodging and provisions,

and from them, as well as from the peasants, who were
sure to be informed that I was a heretic, I suffered every
species of insult and injury. My constitution, as well as my
frame, possessed a fund of strength of which I had no previous
conception. In spite of hardship, and exposure, and
abstinence, I at last arrived at Oporto.

Instead of being carried, agreeably to Chaledro's direction,
to a convent of St. Jago, I was left, late in the evening, in
the porch of a common hospital. My attendants, having
laid me on the pavement, and loaded me with imprecations,
left me to obtain admission by my own efforts. I passed
the live-long night in this spot, and in the morning was received
into the house, in a state which left it uncertain
whether I was alive or dead.

After recovering my sensibility, I made various efforts
to procure a visit from some English merchant. This was
no easy undertaking for one in my deplorable condition.
I was too weak to articulate my words distinctly, and these
words were rendered by my foreign accent, scarcely intelligible.
The likelihood of my speedy death made the people
about me more indifferent to my wants and petitions.

I will not dwell upon my repeated disappointments, but
content myself with mentioning that I gained the attention of
a French gentleman, whose curiosity brought him to view
the hospital. Through him I obtained a visit from an English
merchant, and finally gained the notice of a person, who
formerly resided in America, and of whom I had imperfect
knowledge. By their kindness I was removed from the
hospital to a private house. A Scottish surgeon was summoned
to my assistance, and in seven months, I was restored
to my present state of health.

At Oporto, I embarked, in an American ship, for New-York.
I was destitute of all property, and relied, for the
payment of the debts which I was obliged to contract, as
well as for my future subsistence, on my remittance, to
Waldegrave. I hastened to Philadelphia, and was soon
informed that my friend was dead. His death had taken
place a long time since my remittance to him, hence this
disaster was a subject of regret chiefly on his own account.
I entertained no doubt but that my property had been secured,

and that either some testamentary directions, or
some papers had been left behind respecting this affair.

I sought out those who were formerly our mutual acquaintance,
I found that they were wholly strangers to his
affairs. They could merely relate some particulars of his
singular death, and point out the lodgings which he formerly
occupied. Hither I forthwith repaired, and discovered that
he lived in this house with his sister, disconnected with its
other inhabitants. They described his mode of life in terms
that shewed them to be very imperfectly acquainted with it.
It was easy indeed to infer, from their aspect and manners,
that little sympathy or union could have subsisted between
them and their co-tenants, and this inference was confirmed
by their insinuations, the growth of prejudice and envy.
They told me that Waldegrave's sister had gone to live in
the country, but whither, or for how long, she had not condescended
to inform them, and they did not care to ask.
She was a topping dame, whose notions were much too
high for her station. Who was more nice than wise, and
yet was one who could stoop, when it most became her to
stand upright. It was no business of theirs, but they could
not but mention their suspicions that she had good reasons
for leaving the city, and for concealing the place of her retreat.
Some things were hard to be disguised. They
spoke for themselves, and the only way to hinder disagreeable
discoveries, was to keep out of sight.

I was wholly a stranger to Waldegrave's sister. I knew
merely that he had such a relation. There was nothing therefore
to outbalance this unfavorable report, but the apparent
malignity and grossness of those who gave it. It was not, however,
her character about which I was solicitous, but merely
the place where she might be found, and the suitable inquiries
respecting her deceased brother, be answered. On
this head, these people professed utter ignorance, and were
either unable or unwilling to direct me to any person in the
city who knew more than themselves. After much discourse
they, at length, let fall an intimation that if any one knew
her place of retreat, it was probably a country lad, by name
Huntly, who lived near the Forks of Delaware. After
Waldegrave's death this lad had paid his sister a visit, and
seemed to be admitted on a very confidential footing. She

left the house, for the last time, in his company, and he,
therefore, was most likely to know what had become of
her.

The name of Huntly was not totally unknown to me. I
myself was born and brought up in the neighboring township
of Chetasco. I had some knowledge of your family,
and your name used often to be mentioned by Waldegrave,
as that of one who, at a maturer age, would prove himself
useful to his country. I determined therefore to apply to
you for what information you could give. I designed to
visit my father who lives in Chetasco, and relieve him from
that disquiet which his ignorance of my fate could not fail
to have inspired, and both these ends could be thus, at the
same time, accomplished.

Before I left the city, I thought it proper to apply to the
merchant on whom my bill had been drawn. If this bill
had been presented and paid, he had doubtless preserved
some record of it, and hence a clue might be afforded,
though every other expedient should fail. My usual ill
fortune pursued me upon this occasion, for the merchant
had lately become insolvent, and, to avoid the rage of his
creditors, had fled, without leaving any vestige of this or
similar transactions behind him. He had, some years since,
been an adventurer from Holland, and was suspected to
have returned thither.