Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793

by Charles Brockden Brown

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  This scene lasted I know not how long. Insensibly the passions andreasonings of Welbeck assumed a new form. A grief, mingled withperplexity, overspread his countenance. He ceased to contend or tospeak. His regards were withdrawn from me, on whom they had hithertobeen fixed; and, wandering or vacant, testified a conflict of mindterrible beyond any that my young imagination had ever conceived.

  For a time he appeared to be unconscious of my presence. He moved to andfro with unequal steps, and with gesticulations that possessed ahorrible but indistinct significance. Occasionally he struggled forbreath, and his efforts were directed to remove some choking impediment.

  No test of my fortitude had hitherto occurred equal to that to which itwas now subjected. The suspicion which this deportment suggested wasvague and formless. The tempest which I witnessed was the prelude ofhorror. These were throes which would terminate in the birth of somegigantic and sanguinary purpose. Did he meditate to offer a bloodysacrifice? Was his own death or was mine to attest the magnitude of hisdespair or the impetuosity of his vengeance?

  Suicide was familiar to his thoughts. He had consented to live but onone condition; that of regaining possession of this money. Should I bejustified in driving him, by my obstinate refusal, to this fatalconsummation of his crimes? Yet my fear of this catastrophe wasgroundless. Hitherto he had argued and persuaded; but this method waspursued because it was more eligible than the employment of force, orthan procrastination.

  No. These were tokens that pointed to me. Some unknown instigation wasat work within him, to tear away his remnant of humanity and fit him forthe office of my murderer. I knew not how the accumulation of guiltcould contribute to his gratification or security. His actions had beenpartially exhibited and vaguely seen. What extenuations or omissions hadvitiated his former or recent narrative; how far his actual performanceswere congenial with the deed which was now to be perpetrated, I knewnot.

  These thoughts lent new rapidity to my blood. I raised my head from thepillow, and watched the deportment of this man with deeper attention.The paroxysm which controlled him at length, in some degree, subsided.He muttered, "Yes. It must come. My last humiliation must cover me. Mylast confession must be made. To die, and leave behind me this train ofenormous perils, must not be.

  "O Clemenza! O Mervyn! Ye have not merited that I should leave you alegacy of persecution and death. Your safety must be purchased at whatprice my malignant destiny will set upon it. The cord of theexecutioner, the note of everlasting infamy, is better than to leave youbeset by the consequences of my guilt. It must not be."

  Saying this, Welbeck cast fearful glances at the windows and door. Heexamined every avenue and listened. Thrice he repeated this scrutiny.Having, as it seemed, ascertained that no one lurked within audience, heapproached the bed. He put his mouth close to my face. He attempted tospeak, but once more examined the apartment with suspicious glances.

  He drew closer, and at length, in a tone scarcely articulate, andsuffocated with emotion, he spoke:--"Excellent but fatally-obstinateyouth! Know at least the cause of my importunity. Know at least thedepth of my infatuation and the enormity of my guilt.

  "The bills--surrender them to me, and save yourself from persecution anddisgrace. Save the woman whom you wish to benefit, from the blackestimputations; from hazard to her life and her fame; from languishing indungeons; from expiring on the gallows!

  "The bills--oh, save me from the bitterness of death! Let the evils towhich my miserable life has given birth terminate here and in myself.Surrender them to me, for----"

  There he stopped. His utterence was choked by terror. Rapid glances wereagain darted at the windows and door. The silence was uninterrupted,except by far-off sounds, produced by some moving carriage. Once more hesummoned resolution, and spoke:--

  "Surrender them to me--for--_they are forged_!

  "Formerly I told you, that a scheme of forgery had been conceived. Shamewould not suffer me to add, that my scheme was carried into execution.The bills were fashioned, but my fears contended against my necessities,and forbade me to attempt to exchange them. The interview with Lodisaved me from the dangerous experiment. I enclosed them in that volume,as the means of future opulence, to be used when all other and lesshazardous resources should fail.

  "In the agonies of my remorse at the death of Watson, they wereforgotten. They afterwards recurred to recollection. My wishes pointedto the grave; but the stroke that should deliver me from life wassuspended only till I could hasten hither, get possession of thesepapers, and destroy them.

  "When I thought upon the chances that should give them an owner; bringthem into circulation; load the innocent with suspicion; and lead themto trial, and, perhaps, to death, my sensations were fraught with agony;earnestly as I panted for death, it was necessarily deferred till I hadgained possession of and destroyed these papers.

  "What now remains? You have found them. Happily they have not been used.Give them, therefore, to me, that I may crush at once the brood ofmischiefs which they could not but generate."

  This disclosure was strange. It was accompanied with every token ofsincerity. How had I tottered on the brink of destruction! If I had madeuse of this money, in what a labyrinth of misery might I not have beeninvolved! My innocence could never have been proved. An alliance withWelbeck could not have failed to be inferred. My career would have foundan ignominious close; or, if my punishment had been transmuted intoslavery and toil, would the testimony of my conscience have supportedme?

  I shuddered at the view of those disasters from which I was rescued bythe miraculous chance which led me to this house. Welbeck's request wassalutary to me and honourable to himself. I could not hesitate a momentin compliance. The notes were enclosed in paper, and deposited in a foldof my clothes. I put my hand upon them.

  My motion and attention were arrested, at the instant, by a noise whicharose in the street. Footsteps were heard upon the pavement before thedoor, and voices, as if busy in discourse. This incident was adapted toinfuse the deepest alarm into myself and my companion. The motives ofour trepidation were, indeed, different, and were infinitely morepowerful in my case than in his. It portended to me nothing less thanthe loss of my asylum, and condemnation to an hospital.

  Welbeck hurried to the door, to listen to the conversation below. Thisinterval was pregnant with thought. That impulse which led myreflections from Welbeck to my own state passed away in a moment, andsuffered me to meditate anew upon the terms of that confession which hadjust been made.

  Horror at the fate which this interview had enabled me to shun wasuppermost in my conceptions. I was eager to surrender these fatal bills.I held them for that purpose in my hand, and was impatient for Welbeck'sreturn. He continued at the door; stooping, with his face averted, andeagerly attentive to the conversation in the street.

  All the circumstances of my present situation tended to arrest theprogress of thought and chain my contemplations to one image; but evennow there was room for foresight and deliberation. Welbeck intended todestroy these bills. Perhaps he had not been sincere; or, if hispurpose had been honestly disclosed, this purpose might change when thebills were in his possession. His poverty and sanguineness of tempermight prompt him to use them.

  That this conduct was evil, and would only multiply his miseries, couldnot be questioned. Why should I subject his frailty to this temptation?The destruction of these bills was the loudest injunction of my duty;was demanded by every sanction which bound me to promote the welfare ofmankind.

  The means of destruction was easy. A lighted candle stood on a table, atthe distance of a few yards. Why should I hesitate a moment toannihilate so powerful a cause of error and guilt? A passing instant wassufficient. A momentary lingering might change the circumstances thatsurrounded me, and frustrate my project.

  My languors were suspended by the urgencies of this occasion. I startedfrom my bed and glided to the table. Seizing the notes with my righthand, I held them in the flame of the candle, an
d then threw them,blazing, on the floor.

  The sudden illumination was perceived by Welbeck. The cause of itappeared to suggest itself as soon. He turned, and, marking the paperwhere it lay, leaped to the spot, and extinguished the fire with hisfoot. His interposition was too late. Only enough of them remained toinform him of the nature of the sacrifice.

  Welbeck now stood, with limbs trembling, features aghast, and eyesglaring upon me. For a time he was without speech. The storm wasgathering in silence, and at length burst upon me. In a tone menacingand loud, he exclaimed,--

  "Wretch! what have you done?"

  "I have done justly. These notes were false. You desired to destroythem, that they might not betray the innocent. I applauded your purpose,and have saved you from the danger of temptation by destroying themmyself."

  "Maniac! Miscreant! To be fooled by so gross an artifice! The notes weregenuine. The tale of their forgery was false and meant only to wrestthem from you. Execrable and perverse idiot! Your deed has sealed myperdition. It has sealed your own. You shall pay for it with your blood.I will slay you by inches. I will stretch you, as you have stretched me,on the rack."

  During this speech, all was frenzy and storm in the countenance andfeatures of Welbeck. Nothing less could be expected than that the scenewould terminate in some bloody catastrophe. I bitterly regretted thefacility with which I had been deceived, and the precipitation of mysacrifice. The act, however lamentable, could not be revoked. Whatremained but to encounter or endure its consequences with unshrinkingfirmness?

  The contest was too unequal. It is possible that the frenzy whichactuated Welbeck might have speedily subsided. It is more likely thathis passions would have been satiated with nothing but my death. Thisevent was precluded by loud knocks at the street door, and calls by someone on the pavement without, of--"Who is within? Is any one within?"

  These noises gave a new direction to Welbeck's thoughts. "They arecoming," said he. "They will treat you as a sick man and a thief. Icannot desire you to suffer a worse evil than they will inflict. I leaveyou to your fate." So saying, he rushed out of the room.

  Though confounded and stunned by this rapid succession of events, I wasyet able to pursue measures for eluding these detested visitants. Ifirst extinguished the light, and then, observing that the parley in thestreet continued and grew louder, I sought an asylum in the remotestcorner of the house. During my former abode here, I noticed that atrap-door opened in the ceiling of the third story, to which you wereconducted by a movable stair or ladder. I considered that this,probably, was an opening into a narrow and darksome nook formed by theangle of the roof. By ascending, drawing after me the ladder, andclosing the door, I should escape the most vigilant search.

  Enfeebled as I was by my disease, my resolution rendered me strenuous. Igained the uppermost room, and, mounting the ladder, found myself at asufficient distance from suspicion. The stair was hastily drawn up, andthe door closed. In a few minutes, however, my new retreat proved to beworse than any for which it was possible to change it. The air wasmusty, stagnant, and scorchingly hot. My breathing became difficult, andI saw that to remain here ten minutes would unavoidably producesuffocation.

  My terror of intruders had rendered me blind to the consequences ofimmuring myself in this cheerless recess. It was incumbent on me toextricate myself as speedily as possible. I attempted to lift the door.My first effort was successless. Every inspiration was quicker and moredifficult than the former. As my terror, so my strength and my exertionsincreased. Finally my trembling hand lighted on a nail that wasimperfectly driven into the wood, and which, by affording me a firmerhold, enabled me at length to raise it, and to inhale the air frombeneath.

  Relieved from my new peril by this situation, I bent an attentive earthrough the opening, with a view to ascertain if the house had beenentered or if the outer door was still beset, but could hear nothing.Hence I was authorized to conclude that the people had departed, andthat I might resume my former station without hazard.

  Before I descended, however, I cast a curious eye over this recess. Itwas large enough to accommodate a human being. The means by which it wasentered were easily concealed. Though narrow and low, it was long, and,were it possible to contrive some inlet for the air, one studious ofconcealment might rely on its protection with unbounded confidence.

  My scrutiny was imperfect by reason of the faint light which found itsway through the opening; yet it was sufficient to set me afloat on a seaof new wonders and subject my fortitude to a new test.--

  Here Mervyn paused in his narrative. A minute passed in silence andseeming indecision. His perplexities gradually disappeared, and hecontinued:--

  * * * * *

  I have promised to relate the momentous incidents of my life, and havehitherto been faithful in my enumeration. There is nothing which I moredetest than equivocation and mystery. Perhaps, however, I shall nowincur some imputation of that kind. I would willingly escape theaccusation, but confess that I am hopeless of escaping it.

  I might, indeed, have precluded your guesses and surmises by omitting torelate what befell me from the time of my leaving my chamber till Iregained it. I might deceive you by asserting that nothing remarkableoccurred; but this would be false, and every sacrifice is trivial whichis made upon the altar of sincerity. Besides, the time may come when noinconvenience will arise from minute descriptions of the objects which Inow saw, and of the reasonings and inferences which they suggested to myunderstanding. At present, it appears to be my duty to pass them over insilence; but it would be needless to conceal from you that the interval,though short, and the scrutiny, though hasty, furnished matter which mycuriosity devoured with unspeakable eagerness, and from whichconsequences may hereafter flow, deciding on my peace and my life.

  Nothing, however, occurred which could detain me long in this spot. Ionce more sought the lower story and threw myself on the bed which I hadleft. My mind was thronged with the images flowing from my lateadventure. My fever had gradually increased, and my thoughts weredeformed by inaccuracy and confusion.

  My heart did not sink when I reverted to my own condition. That I shouldquickly be disabled from moving, was readily perceived. The foresight ofmy destiny was steadfast and clear. To linger for days in thiscomfortless solitude, to ask in vain, not for powerful restoratives oralleviating cordials, but for water to moisten my burning lips and abatethe torments of thirst; ultimately to expire in torpor or frenzy, wasthe fate to which I looked forward; yet I was not terrified. I seemed tobe sustained by a preternatural energy. I felt as if the opportunity ofcombating such evils was an enviable privilege, and, though none wouldwitness my victorious magnanimity, yet to be conscious that praise wasmy due was all that my ambition required.

  These sentiments were doubtless tokens of delirium. The excruciatingagonies which now seized upon my head, and the cord which seemed to bedrawn across my breast, and which, as my fancy imagined, was tightenedby some forcible hand, with a view to strangle me, were incompatiblewith sober and coherent views.

  Thirst was the evil which chiefly oppressed me. The means of relief waspointed out by nature and habit. I rose, and determined to replenish mypitcher at the well. It was easier, however, to descend than to return.My limbs refused to bear me, and I sat down upon the lower step of thestaircase. Several hours had elapsed since my entrance into thisdwelling, and it was now night.

  My imagination now suggested a new expedient. Medlicote was a generousand fearless spirit. To put myself under his protection, if I could walkas far as his lodgings, was the wisest proceeding which I could adopt.From this design, my incapacity to walk thus far, and the consequencesof being discovered in the street, had hitherto deterred me. Theseimpediments were now, in the confusion of my understanding, overlookedor despised, and I forthwith set out upon this hopeless expedition.

  The doors communicating with the court, and, through the court, with thestreet, were fastened by inside bolts. These were easily withdrawn, andI issued f
orth with alacrity and confidence. My perturbed senses and thedarkness hindered me from discerning the right way. I was conscious ofthis difficulty, but was not disheartened. I proceeded, as I have sincediscovered, in a direction different from the true, but hesitated nottill my powers were exhausted and I sunk upon the ground. I closed myeyes, and dismissed all fear, and all foresight of futurity. In thissituation I remained some hours, and should probably have expired onthis spot, had not I attracted your notice, and been provided, underthis roof, with all that medical skill, that the tenderest humanitycould suggest.

  In consequence of your care, I have been restored to life and to health.Your conduct was not influenced by the prospect of pecuniary recompense,of service, or of gratitude. It is only in one way that I am able toheighten the gratification which must flow from reflection on yourconduct:--by showing that the being whose life you have prolonged,though uneducated, ignorant, and poor, is not profligate and worthless,and will not dedicate that life which your bounty has given, tomischievous or contemptible purposes.

  END OF VOL I.

  ARTHUR MERVYN;

  OR,

  MEMOIRS OF THE YEAR 1793.

  VOL. II.

  ARTHUR MERVYN.