CHAPTER VI.
In a short time the lady retired. I naturally expected that somecomments would be made on her behaviour, and that the cause of hersurprise and distress on seeing me would be explained; but Welbeck saidnothing on that subject. When she had gone, he went to the window andstood for some time occupied, as it seemed, with his own thoughts. Thenhe turned to me, and, calling me by my name, desired me to accompany himup-stairs. There was neither cheerfulness nor mildness in his address,but neither was there any thing domineering or arrogant.
We entered an apartment on the same floor with my chamber, but separatedfrom it by a spacious entry. It was supplied with bureaus, cabinets, andbookcases. "This," said he, "is your room and mine; but we must enter itand leave it together. I mean to act not as your master but your friend.My maimed hand" (so saying, he showed me his right hand, the forefingerof which was wanting) "will not allow me to write accurately orcopiously. For this reason I have required your aid, in a work of somemoment. Much haste will not be requisite, and, as to the hours andduration of employment, these will be seasonable and short.
"Your present situation is new to you, and we will therefore deferentering on our business. Meanwhile you may amuse yourself in whatmanner you please. Consider this house as your home and make yourselffamiliar with it. Stay within or go out, be busy or be idle, as yourfancy shall prompt: only you will conform to our domestic system as toeating and sleep; the servants will inform you of this. Next week wewill enter on the task for which I designed you. You may now withdraw."
I obeyed this mandate with some awkwardness and hesitation. I went intomy own chamber not displeased with an opportunity of loneliness. I threwmyself on a chair and resigned myself to those thoughts which wouldnaturally arise in this situation. I speculated on the character andviews of Welbeck. I saw that he was embosomed in tranquillity andgrandeur. Riches, therefore, were his; but in what did his opulenceconsist, and whence did it arise? What were the limits by which it wasconfined, and what its degree of permanence? I was unhabituated to ideasof floating or transferable wealth. The rent of houses and lands was theonly species of property which was, as yet, perfectly intelligible. Myprevious ideas led me to regard Welbeck as the proprietor of thisdwelling and of numerous houses and farms. By the same cause I was fainto suppose him enriched by inheritance, and that his life had beenuniform.
I next adverted to his social condition. This mansion appeared to havebut two inhabitants besides servants. Who was the nymph who had hoveredfor a moment in my sight? Had he not called her his daughter? Theapparent difference in their ages would justify this relation; but herguise, her features, and her accents, were foreign. Her language Isuspected strongly to be that of Italy. How should he be the father ofan Italian? But were there not some foreign lineaments in hiscountenance?
This idea seemed to open a new world to my view. I had gained, from mybooks, confused ideas of European governments and manners. I knew thatthe present was a period of revolution and hostility. Might not these beillustrious fugitives from Provence or the Milanese? Their portablewealth, which may reasonably be supposed to be great, they havetransported hither. Thus may be explained the sorrow that veils theircountenance. The loss of estates and honours; the untimely death ofkindred, and perhaps of his wife, may furnish eternal food for regrets.Welbeck's utterance, though rapid and distinct, partook, as I conceived,in some very slight degree of a foreign idiom.
Such was the dream that haunted my undisciplined and unenlightenedimagination. The more I revolved it, the more plausible it seemed. Ondue supposition every appearance that I had witnessed was easilysolved,--unless it were their treatment of me. This, at first, was asource of hopeless perplexity. Gradually, however, a clue seemed to beafforded. Welbeck had betrayed astonishment on my first appearance. Thelady's wonder was mingled with distress. Perhaps they discovered aremarkable resemblance between me and one who stood in the relation ofson to Welbeck, and of brother to the lady. This youth might haveperished on the scaffold or in war. These, no doubt, were his clothes.This chamber might have been reserved for him, but his death left it tobe appropriated to another.
I had hitherto been unable to guess at the reason why all this kindnesshad been lavished on me. Will not this conjecture sufficiently accountfor it? No wonder that this resemblance was enhanced by assuming hisdress.
Taking all circumstances into view, these ideas were not, perhaps,destitute of probability. Appearances naturally suggested them to me.They were, also, powerfully enforced by inclination. They threw me intotransports of wonder and hope. When I dwelt upon the incidents of mypast life, and traced the chain of events, from the death of my motherto the present moment, I almost acquiesced in the notion that somebeneficent and ruling genius had prepared my path for me. Events which,when foreseen, would most ardently have been deprecated, and when theyhappened were accounted in the highest degree luckless, were now seen tobe propitious. Hence I inferred the infatuation of despair, and thefolly of precipitate conclusions.
But what was the fate reserved for me? Perhaps Welbeck would adopt mefor his own son. Wealth has ever been capriciously distributed. The merephysical relation of birth is all that entitles us to manors andthrones. Identity itself frequently depends upon a casual likeness or anold nurse's imposture. Nations have risen in arms, as in the case of theStuarts, in the cause of one the genuineness of whose birth has beendenied and can never be proved. But if the cause be trivial andfallacious, the effects are momentous and solid. It ascertains ourportion of felicity and usefulness, and fixes our lot among peasants orprinces.
Something may depend upon my own deportment. Will it not behoove me tocultivate all my virtues and eradicate all my defects? I see that theabilities of this man are venerable. Perhaps he will not lightly orhastily decide in my favour. He will be governed by the proofs that Ishall give of discernment and integrity. I had always been exempt fromtemptation, and was therefore undepraved; but this view of things had awonderful tendency to invigorate my virtuous resolutions. All within mewas exhilaration and joy.
There was but one thing wanting to exalt me to a dizzy height and giveme place among the stars of heaven. My resemblance to her brother hadforcibly affected this lady; but I was not her brother. I was raised toa level with her and made a tenant of the same mansion. Some intercoursewould take place between us. Time would lay level impediments andestablish familiarity, and this intercourse might foster love andterminate in--_marriage_!
These images were of a nature too glowing and expansive to allow me tobe longer inactive. I sallied forth into the open air. This tumult ofdelicious thoughts in some time subsided, and gave way to imagesrelative to my present situation. My curiosity was awake. As yet I hadseen little of the city, and this opportunity for observation was not tobe neglected. I therefore coursed through several streets, attentivelyexamining the objects that successively presented themselves.
At length, it occurred to me to search out the house in which I hadlately been immured. I was not without hopes that at some future periodI should be able to comprehend the allusions and brighten theobscurities that hung about the dialogue of last night.
The house was easily discovered. I reconnoitred the court and gatethrough which I had passed. The mansion was of the first order inmagnitude and decoration. This was not the bound of my presentdiscovery, for I was gifted with that confidence which would make me seton foot inquiries in the neighbourhood. I looked around for a suitablemedium of intelligence. The opposite and adjoining houses were small,and apparently occupied by persons of an indigent class. At one of thesewas a sign denoting it to be the residence of a tailor. Seated on abench at the door was a young man, with coarse uncombed locks, breechesknee-unbuttoned, stockings ungartered, shoes slipshod and unbuckled, anda face unwashed, gazing stupidly from hollow eyes. His aspect wasembellished with good nature, though indicative of ignorance.
This was the only person in sight. He might be able to say somethingconcerning his opulent neighbour. To him, therefore, I resol
ved toapply. I went up to him, and, pointing to the house in question, askedhim who lived there.
He answered, "Mr. Matthews."
"What is his profession,--his way of life?"
"A gentleman. He does nothing but walk about."
"How long has he been married?"
"Married! He is not married as I know on. He never has been married. Heis a bachelor."
This intelligence was unexpected. It made me pause to reflect whether Ihad not mistaken the house. This, however, seemed impossible. I renewedmy questions.
"A bachelor, say you? Are you not mistaken?"
"No. It would be an odd thing if he was married. An old fellow, with onefoot in the grave--Comical enough for him to _git_ a _vife_!"
"An old man? Does he live alone? What is his family?"
"No, he does not live alone. He has a niece that lives with him. She ismarried, and her husband lives there too."
"What is his name?"
"I don't know. I never heard it as I know on."
"What is his trade?"
"He's a merchant; he keeps a store somewhere or other; but I don't knowwhere."
"How long has he been married?"
"About two years. They lost a child lately. The young woman was in ahuge taking about it. They say she was quite crazy some days for thedeath of the child; and she is not quite out of _the dumps_ yet.To-be-sure, the child was a sweet little thing; but they need not makesuch a rout about it. I'll war'n' they'll have enough of them beforethey die."
"What is the character of the young man? Where was he born and educated?Has he parents or brothers?"
My companion was incapable of answering these questions, and I left himwith little essential addition to the knowledge I already possessed.
Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793 Page 6