Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 3 (of 3)

by Charles Brockden Brown

  CHAPTER VII.

  The tumults of curiosity and pleasure did not speedily subside. Thestory of each other's wanderings was told with endless amplification andminuteness. Henceforth, the stream of our existence was to mix; we wereto act and to think in common; casual witnesses and written testimonyshould become superfluous. Eyes and ears were to be eternally employedupon the conduct of each other; death, when it should come, was not tobe deplored, because it was an unavoidable and brief privation to herthat should survive. Being, under any modification, is dear; but thatstate to which death is a passage is all-desirable to virtue andall-compensating to grief.

  Meanwhile, precedent events were made the themes of endlessconversation. Every incident and passion in the course of four years wasrevived and exhibited. The name of Ormond was, of course, frequentlyrepeated by my friend. His features and deportment were described; hermeditations and resolutions, with regard to him, fully disclosed. Mycounsel was asked, in what manner it became her to act.

  I could not but harbour aversion to a scheme which should tend to severme from Constantia, or to give me a competitor in her affections.Besides this, the properties of Ormond were of too mysterious a natureto make him worthy of acceptance. Little more was known concerning himthan what he himself had disclosed to the Dudleys, but this knowledgewould suffice to invalidate his claims.

  He had dwelt, in his conversations with Constantia, sparingly on his ownconcerns. Yet he did not hide from her that he had been left in earlyyouth to his own guidance; that he had embraced, when almost a child,the trade of arms; that he had found service and promotion in the armiesof Potemkin and Romanzow; that he had executed secret and diplomaticfunctions at Constantinople and Berlin; that in the latter city he hadmet with schemers and reasoners who aimed at the new-modelling of theworld, and the subversion of all that has hitherto been conceivedelementary and fundamental in the constitution of man and of government;that some of those reformers had secretly united to break down themilitary and monarchical fabric of German policy; that others, morewisely, had devoted their secret efforts, not to overturn, but to build;that, for this end, they embraced an exploring and colonizing project;that he had allied himself to these, and for the promotion of theirprojects had spent six years of his life in journeys by sea and land, intracts unfrequented till then by any European.

  What were the moral or political maxims which this adventurous andvisionary sect had adopted, and what was the seat of their new-bornempire,--whether on the shore of an _austral_ continent, or in the heartof desert America,--he carefully concealed. These were exhibited orhidden, or shifted, according to his purpose. Not to reveal too much,and not to tire curiosity or overtask belief, was his daily labour. Hetalked of alliance with the family whose name he bore, and who had losttheir honours and estates by the Hanoverian succession to the crown ofEngland.

  I had seen too much of innovation and imposture, in, France and Italy,not to regard a man like this with aversion and fear. The mind of myfriend was wavering and unsuspicious. She had lived at a distance fromscenes where principles are hourly put to the test of experiment; whereall extremes of fortitude and pusillanimity are accustomed to meet;where recluse virtue and speculative heroism gives place, as if bymagic, to the last excesses of debauchery and wickedness; where pillageand murder are engrafted on systems of all-embracing and self-obliviousbenevolence, and the good of mankind is professed to be pursued withbonds of association and covenants of secrecy. Hence, my friend haddecided without the sanction of experience, had allowed herself towander into untried paths, and had hearkened to positions pregnant withdestruction and ignominy.

  It was not difficult to exhibit in their true light the enormous errorsof this man, and the danger of prolonging their intercourse. Her assentto accompany me to England was readily obtained. Too much despatch couldnot be used; but the disposal of her property must first take place.This was necessarily productive of some delay.

  I had been made, contrary to inclination, expert in the management ofall affairs relative to property. My mother's lunacy, subsequentdisease, and death, had imposed upon me obligations and cares littlesuitable to my sex and age. They could not be eluded or transferred toothers; and, by degrees, experience enlarged my knowledge andfamiliarized my tasks.

  It was agreed that I should visit and inspect my friend's estate inJersey, while she remained in her present abode, to put an end to theviews and expectations of Ormond, and to make preparation for hervoyage. We were reconciled to a temporary separation by the necessitythat prescribed it.

  During our residence together, the mind of Constantia was kept inperpetual ferment. The second day after my departure, the turbulence ofher feelings began to subside, and she found herself at leisure topursue those measures which her present situation prescribed.

  The time prefixed by Ormond for the termination of his absence hadnearly arrived. Her resolutions respecting this man, lately formed, nowoccurred to her. Her heart drooped as she revolved the necessity ofdisuniting their fates; but that this disunion was proper could notadmit of doubt. How information of her present views might be mostsatisfactorily imparted to him, was a question not instantly decided.She reflected on the impetuosity of his character, and conceived thather intentions might be most conveniently unfolded in a letter. Thisletter she immediately sat down to write. Just then the door opened, andOrmond entered the apartment.

  She was somewhat, and for a moment, startled by this abrupt andunlooked-for entrance. Yet she greeted him with pleasure. Her greetingwas received with coldness. A second glance at his countenance informedher that his mind was somewhat discomposed.

  Folding his hands on his breast, ho stalked to the window and looked upat the moon. Presently he withdrew his gaze from this object, and fixedit upon Constantia. He spoke, but his words were produced by a kind ofeffort.

  "Fit emblem," he exclaimed, "of human versatility! One impediment isgone. I hoped it was the only one. But no! the removal of that merelymade room for another. Let this be removed. Well, fate will interplace athird. All our toils will thus be frustrated, and the ruin will finallyredound upon our heads." There he stopped.

  This strain could not be interpreted by Constantia. She smiled, and,without noticing his incoherences, proceeded to inquire into hisadventures during their separation. He listened to her, but his eyes,fixed upon hers, and his solemnity of aspect, were immovable. When shepaused, he seated himself close to her, and, grasping her hand with avehemence that almost pained her, said,--

  "Look at me; steadfastly. Can you read my thoughts? Can your discernmentreach the bounds of my knowledge and the bottom of my purposes? Catchyou not a view of the monsters that are starting into birth _here_?"(and he put his left hand to his forehead.) "But you cannot. Should Ipaint them to you verbally, you would call me jester or deceiver. Whatpity that you have not instruments for piercing into thoughts!"

  "I presume," said Constantia, affecting cheerfulness which she did notfeel, "such instruments would be useless to me. You never scruple to saywhat you think. Your designs are no sooner conceived than they areexpressed. All you know, all you wish, and all you purpose, are knownto others as soon as to yourself. No scruples of decorum, no foresightof consequences, are obstacles in your way."

  "True," replied he; "all obstacles are trampled under foot but one."

  "What is the insuperable one?"

  "Incredulity in him that hears. I must not say what will not becredited. I must not relate feats and avow schemes, when my hearer willsay, 'Those feats were never performed; these schemes are not yours.' Icare not if the truth of my tenets and the practicability of my purposesbe denied. Still, I will openly maintain them; but when my assertionswill themselves be disbelieved, when it is denied that I adopt the creedand project the plans which I affirm to be adopted and projected by me,it is needless to affirm.

  "To-morrow I mean to ascertain the height of the lunar mountains bytravelling to the top of them. Then I will station myself in the trackof the last comet, and wait ti
ll its circumvolution suffers me to leapupon it; then, by walking on its surface, I will ascertain whether it behot enough to burn my soles. Do you believe that this can be done?"

  "No."

  "Do you believe, in consequence of my assertion, that I design to dothis, and that, in my apprehension, it is easy to be done?"

  "Not unless I previously believe you to be lunatic."

  "Then why should I assert my purposes? Why speak, when the hearer willinfer nothing from my speech but that I am either lunatic or liar?"

  "In that predicament, silence is best."

  "In that predicament I now stand. I am not going to unfold myself. Justnow, I pitied thee for want of eyes. 'Twas a foolish compassion. Thouart happy, because thou seest not an inch before thee or behind." Herehe was for a moment buried in thought; then, breaking from his reverie,he said, "So your father is dead?"

  "True," said Constantia, endeavouring to suppress her rising emotions;"he is no more. It is so recent an event that I imagined you a strangerto it."

  "False imagination! Thinkest thou I would refrain from knowing what sonearly concerns us both? Perhaps your opinion of my ignorance extendsbeyond this. Perhaps I know not your fruitless search for a picture.Perhaps I neither followed you nor led you to a being called SophiaCourtland. I was not present at the meeting. I am unapprized of theeffects of your romantic passion for each other. I did not witness therapturous effusions and inexorable counsels of the newcomer. I know notthe contents of the letter which you are preparing to write."

  As he spoke this, the accents of Ormond gradually augmented invehemence. His countenance bespoke a deepening inquietude and growingpassion. He stopped at the mention of the letter, because his voice wasoverpowered by emotion. This pause afforded room for the astonishment ofConstantia. Her interviews and conversations with me took place atseasons of general repose, when all doors were fast and avenues shut, inthe midst of silence, and in the bosom of retirement. The theme of ourdiscourse was, commonly, too sacred for any ears but our own;disclosures were of too intimate and delicate a nature for any but afemale audience; they were too injurious to the fame and peace of Ormondfor him to be admitted to partake of them: yet his words implied a fullacquaintance with recent events, and with purposes and deliberationsshrouded, as we imagined, in impenetrable secrecy.

  As soon as Constantia recovered from the confusion of these thoughts,she eagerly questioned him:--"What do you know? How do you know what hashappened, or what is intended?"

  "Poor Constantia!" he exclaimed, in a tone bitter and sarcastic. "Howhopeless is thy ignorance! To enlighten thee is past my power. Whatdo I know? Every thing. Not a tittle has escaped me. Thy letter issuperfluous; I know its contents before they are written. I wasto be told that a soldier and a traveller, a man who refused hisfaith to dreams, and his homage to shadows, merited only scorn andforgetfulness. That thy affections and person were due to another; thatintercourse between us was henceforth to cease; that preparation wasmaking for a voyage to Britain, and that Ormond was to walk to his gravealone!"

  In spite of harsh tones and inflexible features, these words wereaccompanied with somewhat that betrayed a mind full of discord andagony. Constantia's astonishment was mingled with dejection. Thediscovery of a passion deeper and less curable than she suspected--theperception of embarrassments and difficulties in the path which she hadchosen, that had not previously occurred to her--threw her mind intoanxious suspense.

  The measures she had previously concerted were still approved. To partfrom Ormond was enjoined by every dictate of discretion and duty. Anexplanation of her motives and views could not take place moreseasonably than at present. Every consideration of justice to herselfand humanity to Ormond made it desirable that this interview should bethe last. By inexplicable means, he had gained a knowledge of herintentions. It was expedient, therefore, to state them with clearnessand force. In what words this was to be done, was the subject ofmomentary deliberation.

  Her thoughts were discerned, and her speech anticipated, by hercompanion:--"Why droopest thou, and why thus silent, Constantia? Thesecret of thy fate will never be detected. Till thy destiny be finished,it will not be the topic of a single fear. But not for thyself, but me,art thou concerned. Thou dreadest, yet determinest, to confirm mypredictions of thy voyage to Europe and thy severance from me.

  "Dismiss thy inquietudes on that score. What misery thy scorn and thyrejection are able to inflict is inflicted already. Thy decision wasknown to me as soon as it was formed. Thy motives were known. Not anargument or plea of thy counsellor, not a syllable of her invective, nota sound of her persuasive rhetoric, escaped my hearing. I know thydecree to be immutable. As my doubts, so my wishes have taken theirflight. Perhaps, in the depth of thy ignorance, it was supposed that Ishould struggle to reverse thy purpose by menaces or supplications; thatI should boast of the cruelty with which I should avenge an imaginarywrong upon myself. No. All is very well. Go. Not a whisper of objectionor reluctance shalt thou hear from me."

  "If I could think," said Constantia, with tremulous hesitation, "thatyou part from me without anger; that you see the rectitude of myproceeding--"

  "Anger! Rectitude! I pr'ythee, peace. I know thou art going.--I knowthat all objection to thy purpose would be vain. Thinkest thou that thystay, undictated by love, the mere fruit of compassion, would afford mepleasure or crown my wishes? No. I am not so dastardly a wretch. Therewas something in thy power to bestow, but thy will accords not with thypower. I merit not the boon, and thou refusest it. I am content."

  Here Ormond fixed more significant eyes upon her. "Poor Constantia!" hecontinued. "Shall I warn thee of the danger that awaits thee? For whatend? To elude it is impossible. It will come, and thou, perhaps, wilt beunhappy. Foresight that enables not to shun, only precreates, the evil.

  "Come it will. Though future, it knows not the empire of contingency. Aninexorable and immutable decree enjoins it. Perhaps it is thy nature tomeet with calmness what cannot be shunned. Perhaps, when it is past, thyreason will perceive its irrevocable nature, and restore thee to peace.Such is the conduct of the wise; but such, I fear, the education ofConstantia Dudley will debar her from pursuing.

  "Fain would I regard it as the test of thy wisdom. I look upon thy pastlife. All the forms of genuine adversity have beset thy youth. Poverty,disease, servile labour, a criminal and hapless parent, have been evilswhich thou hast not ungracefully sustained. An absent friend andmurdered father were added to thy list of woes, and here thy courage wasdeficient. Thy soul was proof against substantial misery, but sunk intohelpless cowardice at the sight of phantoms.

  "One more disaster remains. To call it by its true name would be uselessor pernicious. Useless, because thou wouldst pronounce its occurrenceimpossible; pernicious, because, if its possibility were granted, theomen would distract thee with fear. How shall I describe it? Is it lossof fame? No. The deed will be unwitnessed by a human creature. Thyreputation will be spotless, for nothing will be done by thee unsuitableto the tenor of thy past life. Calumny will not be heard to whisper. Allthat know thee will be lavish of their eulogies as ever. Their eulogieswill be as justly merited. Of this merit thou wilt entertain as just andas adequate conceptions as now.

  "It is no repetition of the evils thou hast already endured; it isneither drudgery, nor sickness, nor privation of friends. Strangeperverseness of human reason! It is an evil; it will be thought uponwith agony; it will close up all the sources of pleasurablerecollection; it will exterminate hope; it will endear oblivion, andpush thee into an untimely grave. Yet to grasp it is impossible. Themoment we inspect it nearly, it vanishes. Thy claims to humanapprobation and divine applause will be undiminished and unaltered byit. The testimony of approving conscience will have lost none of itsexplicitness and energy. Yet thou wilt feed upon sighs; thy tears willflow without remission; thou wilt grow enamoured of death, and perhapswilt anticipate the stroke of disease.

  "Yet perhaps my prediction is groundless as my knowledge. Perhaps thydiscernment
will avail to make thee wise and happy. Perhaps thou wiltperceive thy privilege of sympathetic and intellectual activity to beuntouched. Heaven grant the non-fulfilment of my prophecy, thydisenthralment from error, and the perpetuation of thy happiness."

  Saying this, Ormond withdrew. His words were always accompanied withgestures and looks and tones that fastened the attention of the hearer;but the terms of his present discourse afforded, independently ofgesticulation and utterance, sufficient motives to attention andremembrance. He was gone, but his image was contemplated by Constantia;his words still rung in her ears.

  The letter she designed to compose was rendered, by this interview,unnecessary. Meanings of which she and her friend alone were consciouswere discovered by Ormond, through some other medium than words; yetthat was impossible. A being unendowed with preternatural attributescould gain the information which this man possessed, only by theexertion of his senses.

  All human precautions had been used to baffle the attempts of any secretwitness. She recalled to mind the circumstances in which conversationswith her friend had taken place. All had been retirement, secrecy, andsilence. The hours usually dedicated to sleep had been devoted to thisbetter purpose. Much had been said, in a voice low and scarcely louderthan a whisper. To have overheard it at the distance of a few feet wasapparently impossible.

  Their conversations had not been recorded by her. It could not bebelieved that this had been done by Sophia Courtland. Had Ormond and herfriend met during the interval that had elapsed between her separationfrom the latter and her meeting with the former? Human events areconjoined by links imperceptible to keenest eyes. Of Ormond's means ofinformation she was wholly unapprized. Perhaps accident would some timeunfold them. One thing was incontestable:--that her schemes and herreasons for adopting them were known to him.

  What unforeseen effects had that knowledge produced! In what ambiguousterms had he couched his prognostics of some mighty evil that awaitedher! He had given a terrible but contradictory description of herdestiny. An event was to happen, akin to no calamity which she hadalready endured, disconnected with all which the imagination of man isaccustomed to deprecate, capable of urging her to suicide, and yet of akind which left it undecided whether she would regard it withindifference.

  What reliance should she place upon prophetic incoherences thus wild?What precautions should she take against a danger thus inscrutable andimminent?