<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3>
<p>"Meanwhile large deductions had been made from my stock of money, and
the remnant would be speedily consumed by my present mode of life. My
expenses far exceeded my previous expectations. In no long time I should
be reduced to my ancient poverty, which the luxurious existence that I
now enjoyed, and the regard due to my beloved and helpless companion,
would render more irksome than ever. Some scheme to rescue me from this
fate was indispensable; but my aversion to labour, to any pursuit the
end of which was merely gain, and which would require application and
attention, continued undiminished.</p>
<p>"I was plunged anew into dejection and perplexity. From this I was
somewhat relieved by a plan suggested by Mr. Thetford. I thought I had
experience of his knowledge and integrity, and the scheme that he
proposed seemed liable to no possibility of miscarriage. A ship was to
be purchased, supplied with a suitable cargo, and despatched to a port
in the West Indies. Loss from storms and enemies was to be precluded by
insurance. Every hazard was to be enumerated, and the ship and cargo
valued at the highest rate. Should the voyage be safely performed, the
profits would be double the original expense. Should the ship be taken
or wrecked, the insurers would have bound themselves to make ample,
speedy, and certain indemnification. Thetford's brother, a wary and
experienced trader, was to be the supercargo.</p>
<p>"All my money was laid out upon this scheme. Scarcely enough was
reserved to supply domestic and personal wants. Large debts were
likewise incurred. Our caution had, as we conceived, annihilated every
chance of failure. Too much could not be expended on a project so
infallible; and the vessel, amply fitted and freighted, departed on her
voyage.</p>
<p>"An interval, not devoid of suspense and anxiety, succeeded. My
mercantile inexperience made me distrust the clearness of my own
discernment, and I could not but remember that my utter and
irretrievable destruction was connected with the failure of my scheme.
Time added to my distrust and apprehensions. The time at which tidings
of the ship were to be expected elapsed without affording any
information of her destiny. My anxieties, however, were to be carefully
hidden from the world. I had taught mankind to believe that this project
had been adopted more for amusement than gain; and the debts which I had
contracted seemed to arise from willingness to adhere to established
maxims, more than from the pressure of necessity.</p>
<p>"Month succeeded month, and intelligence was still withheld. The notes
which I had given for one-third of the cargo, and for the premium of
insurance, would shortly become due. For the payment of the former, and
the cancelling of the latter, I had relied upon the expeditious return
or the demonstrated loss of the vessel. Neither of these events had
taken place.</p>
<p>"My cares were augmented from another quarter. My companion's situation
now appeared to be such as, if our intercourse had been sanctified by
wedlock, would have been regarded with delight. As it was, no symptoms
were equally to be deplored. Consequences, as long as they were involved
in uncertainty, were extenuated or overlooked; but now, when they became
apparent and inevitable, were fertile of distress and upbraiding.</p>
<p>"Indefinable fears, and a desire to monopolize all the meditations and
affections of this being, had induced me to perpetuate her ignorance of
any but her native language, and debar her from all intercourse with the
world. My friends were of course inquisitive respecting her character,
adventures, and particularly her relation to me. The consciousness how
much the truth redounded to my dishonour made me solicitous to lead
conjecture astray. For this purpose I did not discountenance the
conclusion that was adopted by some,—that she was my daughter. I
reflected that all dangerous surmises would be effectually precluded by
this belief.</p>
<p>"These precautions afforded me some consolation in my present
difficulties. It was requisite to conceal the lady's condition from the
world. If this should be ineffectual, it would not be difficult to
divert suspicion from my person. The secrecy that I had practised would
be justified, in the apprehension of those to whom the personal
condition of Clemenza should be disclosed, by the feelings of a father.</p>
<p>"Meanwhile, it was an obvious expedient to remove the unhappy lady to a
distance from impertinent observers. A rural retreat, lonely and
sequestered, was easily procured, and hither she consented to repair.
This arrangement being concerted, I had leisure to reflect upon the
evils which every hour brought nearer, and which threatened to
exterminate me.</p>
<p>"My inquietudes forbade me to sleep, and I was accustomed to rise before
day and seek some respite in the fields. Returning from one of these
unseasonable rambles, I chanced to meet you. Your resemblance to the
deceased Lodi, in person and visage, is remarkable. When you first met
my eye, this similitude startled me. Your subsequent appeal to my
compassion was clothed in such terms as formed a powerful contrast with
your dress, and prepossessed me greatly in favour of your education and
capacity.</p>
<p>"In my present hopeless condition, every incident, however trivial, was
attentively considered, with a view to extract from it some means of
escaping from my difficulties. My love for the Italian girl, in spite of
all my efforts to keep it alive, had begun to languish. Marriage was
impossible; and had now, in some degree, ceased to be desirable. We are
apt to judge of others by ourselves. The passion I now found myself
disposed to ascribe chiefly to fortuitous circumstances; to the impulse
of gratitude, and the exclusion of competitors; and believed that your
resemblance to her brother, your age and personal accomplishments,
might, after a certain time, and in consequence of suitable
contrivances on my part, give a new direction to her feelings. To gain
your concurrence, I relied upon your simplicity, your gratitude, and
your susceptibility to the charms of this bewitching creature.</p>
<p>"I contemplated, likewise, another end. Mrs. Wentworth is rich. A youth
who was once her favourite, and designed to inherit her fortunes, has
disappeared, for some years, from the scene. His death is most probable,
but of that there is no satisfactory information. The life of this
person, whose name is Clavering, is an obstacle to some designs which
had occurred to me in relation to this woman. My purposes were crude and
scarcely formed. I need not swell the catalogue of my errors by
expatiating upon them. Suffice it to say that the peculiar circumstances
of your introduction to me led me to reflections on the use that might
be made of your agency, in procuring this lady's acquiescence in my
schemes. You were to be ultimately persuaded to confirm her in the
belief that her nephew was dead. To this consummation it was
indispensable to lead you by slow degrees and circuitous paths.
Meanwhile, a profound silence, with regard to your genuine history, was
to be observed; and to this forbearance your consent was obtained with
more readiness than I expected.</p>
<p>"There was an additional motive for the treatment you received from me.
My personal projects and cares had hitherto prevented me from reading
Lodi's manuscript; a slight inspection, however, was sufficient to prove
that the work was profound and eloquent. My ambition has panted, with
equal avidity, after the reputation of literature and opulence. To claim
the authorship of this work was too harmless and specious a stratagem
not to be readily suggested. I meant to translate it into English, and
to enlarge it by enterprising incidents of my own invention. My scruples
to assume the merit of the original composer might thus be removed. For
this end, your assistance as an amanuensis would be necessary.</p>
<p>"You will perceive that all these projects depended on the seasonable
arrival of intelligence from ——. The delay of another week would seal
my destruction. The silence might arise from the foundering of the ship
and the destruction of all on board. In this case, the insurance was not
forfeited, but payment could not be obtained within a year. Meanwhile,
the premium and other debts must be immediately discharged, and this was
beyond my power. Meanwhile, I was to live in a manner that would not
belie my pretensions; but my coffers were empty.</p>
<p>"I cannot adequately paint the anxieties with which I have been haunted.
Each hour has added to the burden of my existence, till, in consequence
of the events of this day, it has become altogether insupportable. Some
hours ago, I was summoned by Thetford to his house. The messenger
informed me that tidings had been received of my ship. In answer to my
eager interrogations, he could give no other information than that she
had been captured by the British. He was unable to relate particulars.</p>
<p>"News of her safe return would, indeed, have been far more acceptable;
but even this information was a source of infinite congratulation. It
precluded the demand of my insurers. The payment of other debts might be
postponed for a month, and my situation be the same as before the
adoption of this successless scheme. Hope and joy were reinstated in my
bosom, and I hasted to Thetford's counting-house.</p>
<p>"He received me with an air of gloomy dissatisfaction. I accounted for
his sadness by supposing him averse to communicate information which was
less favourable than our wishes had dictated. He confirmed, with visible
reluctance, the news of her capture. He had just received letters from
his brother, acquainting him with all particulars, and containing the
official documents of this transaction.</p>
<p>"This had no tendency to damp my satisfaction, and I proceeded to peruse
with eagerness the papers which he put into my hand. I had not proceeded
far, when my joyous hopes vanished. Two French mulattoes had, after much
solicitation, and the most solemn promises to carry with them no
articles which the laws of war decree to be contraband, obtained a
passage in the vessel. She was speedily encountered by a privateer, by
whom every receptacle was ransacked. In a chest, belonging to the
Frenchmen, and which they had affirmed to contain nothing but their
clothes, were found two sabres, and other accoutrements of an officer of
cavalry. Under this pretence, the vessel was captured and condemned, and
this was a cause of forfeiture which had not been provided against in
the contract of insurance.</p>
<p>"By this untoward event my hopes were irreparably blasted. The utmost
efforts were demanded to conceal my thoughts from my companion. The
anguish that preyed upon my heart was endeavoured to be masked by looks
of indifference. I pretended to have been previously informed by the
messenger not only of the capture, but of the cause that led to it, and
forbore to expatiate upon my loss, or to execrate the authors of my
disappointment. My mind, however, was the theatre of discord and agony,
and I waited with impatience for an opportunity to leave him.</p>
<p>"For want of other topics, I asked by whom this information had been
brought. He answered, that the bearer was Captain Amos Watson, whose
vessel had been forfeited, at the same time, under a different pretence.
He added that, my name being mentioned accidentally to Watson, the
latter had betrayed marks of great surprise, and been very earnest in
his inquiries respecting my situation. Having obtained what knowledge
Thetford was able to communicate, the captain had departed, avowing a
former acquaintance with me, and declaring his intention of paying me a
visit.</p>
<p>"These words operated on my frame like lightning. All within me was
tumult and terror, and I rushed precipitately out of the house. I went
forward with unequal steps, and at random. Some instinct led me into the
fields, and I was not apprized of the direction of my steps, till,
looking up, I found myself upon the shore of Schuylkill.</p>
<p>"Thus was I, a second time, overborne by hopeless and incurable evils.
An interval of motley feelings, of specious artifice and contemptible
imposture, had elapsed since my meeting with the stranger at Wilmington.
Then my forlorn state had led me to the brink of suicide. A brief and
feverish respite had been afforded me, but now was I transported to the
verge of the same abyss.</p>
<p>"Amos Watson was the brother of the angel whom I had degraded and
destroyed. What but fiery indignation and unappeasable vengeance could
lead him into my presence? With what heart could I listen to his
invectives? How could I endure to look upon the face of one whom I had
loaded with such atrocious and intolerable injuries?</p>
<p>"I was acquainted with his loftiness of mind; his detestation of
injustice, and the whirlwind passions that ingratitude and villany like
mine were qualified to awaken in his bosom. I dreaded not his violence.
The death that he might be prompted to inflict was no object of
aversion. It was poverty and disgrace, the detection of my crimes, the
looks and voice of malediction and upbraiding, from which my cowardice
shrunk.</p>
<p>"Why should I live? I must vanish from that stage which I had lately
trodden. My flight must be instant and precipitate. To be a fugitive
from exasperated creditors, and from the industrious revenge of Watson,
was an easy undertaking; but whither could I fly, where I should not be
pursued by the phantoms of remorse, by the dread of hourly detection, by
the necessities of hunger and thirst? In what scene should I be exempt
from servitude and drudgery? Was my existence embellished with
enjoyments that would justify my holding it, encumbered with hardships
and immersed in obscurity?</p>
<p>"There was no room for hesitation. To rush into the stream before me,
and put an end at once to my life and the miseries inseparably linked
with it, was the only proceeding which fate had left to my choice. My
muscles were already exerted for this end, when the helpless condition
of Clemenza was remembered. What provision could I make against the
evils that threatened her? Should I leave her utterly forlorn and
friendless? Mrs. Wentworth's temper was forgiving and compassionate.
Adversity had taught her to participate and her wealth enabled her to
relieve distress. Who was there by whom such powerful claims to succour
and protection could be urged as by this desolate girl? Might I not
state her situation in a letter to this lady, and urge irresistible
pleas for the extension of her kindness to this object?</p>
<p>"These thoughts made me suspend my steps. I determined to seek my
habitation once more, and, having written and deposited this letter, to
return to the execution of my fatal purpose. I had scarcely reached my
own door, when some one approached along the pavement. The form, at
first, was undistinguishable, but, by coming, at length, within the
illumination of a lamp, it was perfectly recognised.</p>
<p>"To avoid this detested interview was now impossible. Watson approached
and accosted me. In this conflict of tumultuous feelings I was still
able to maintain an air of intrepidity. His demeanour was that of a man
who struggles with his rage. His accents were hurried, and scarcely
articulate. 'I have ten words to say to you,' said he; 'lead into the
house, and to some private room. My business with you will be despatched
in a breath.'</p>
<p>"I made him no answer, but led the way into my house, and to my study.
On entering this room, I put the light upon the table, and, turning to
my visitant, prepared silently to hear what he had to unfold. He struck
his clenched hand against the table with violence. His motion was of
that tempestuous kind as to overwhelm the power of utterance, and found
it easier to vent itself in gesticulations than in words. At length he
exclaimed,—</p>
<p>"'It is well. Now has the hour, so long and so impatiently demanded by
my vengeance, arrived. Welbeck! Would that my first words could strike
thee dead! They will so, if thou hast any title to the name of man.</p>
<p>"'My sister is dead; dead of anguish and a broken heart. Remote from her
friends; in a hovel; the abode of indigence and misery.</p>
<p>"'Her husband is no more. He returned after a long absence, a tedious
navigation, and vicissitudes of hardships. He flew to the bosom of his
love; of his wife. She was gone; lost to him, and to virtue. In a fit of
desperation, he retired to his chamber and despatched himself. This is
the instrument with which the deed was performed.'</p>
<p>"Saying this, Watson took a pistol from his pocket, and held it to my
head. I lifted not my hand to turn aside the weapon. I did not shudder
at the spectacle, or shrink from his approaching hand. With fingers
clasped together, and eyes fixed upon the floor, I waited till his fury
was exhausted. He continued:—</p>
<p>"'All passed in a few hours. The elopement of his daughter,—the death
of his son. O my father! Most loved and most venerable of men! To see
thee changed into a maniac! Haggard and wild! Deterred from outrage on
thyself and those around thee by fetters and stripes! What was it that
saved me from a like fate? To view this hideous ruin, and to think by
whom it was occasioned! Yet not to become frantic like thee, my father;
or not destroy myself like thee, my brother! My friend!—</p>
<p>"'No. For this hour was I reserved; to avenge your wrongs and mine in
the blood of this ungrateful villain.'</p>
<p>"'There,' continued he, producing a second pistol, and tendering it to
me,—'there is thy defence. Take we opposite sides of this table, and
fire at the same instant.'</p>
<p>"During this address I was motionless. He tendered the pistol, but I
unclasped not my hands to receive it.</p>
<p>"'Why do you hesitate?' resumed he. 'Let the chance between us be equal,
or fire you first.'</p>
<p>"'No,' said I, 'I am ready to die by your hand. I wish it. It will
preclude the necessity of performing the office for myself. I have
injured you, and merit all that your vengeance can inflict. I know your
nature too well to believe that my death will be perfect expiation. When
the gust of indignation is past, the remembrance of your deed will only
add to your sum of misery; yet I do not love you well enough to wish
that you would forbear. I desire to die, and to die by another's hand
rather than my own.'</p>
<p>"'Coward!' exclaimed Watson, with augmented vehemence, 'you know me too
well to believe me capable of assassination. Vile subterfuge!
Contemptible plea! Take the pistol and defend yourself. You want not the
power or the will; but, knowing that I spurn at murder, you think your
safety will be found in passiveness. Your refusal will avail you little.
Your fame, if not your life, is at my mercy. If you falter now, I will
allow you to live, but only till I have stabbed your reputation.'</p>
<p>"I now fixed my eyes steadfastly upon him, and spoke:—'How much a
stranger are you to the feelings of Welbeck! How poor a judge of his
cowardice! I take your pistol, and consent to your conditions.'</p>
<p>"We took opposite sides of the table. 'Are you ready?' he cried; 'fire!'</p>
<p>"Both triggers were drawn at the same instant. Both pistols were
discharged. Mine was negligently raised. Such is the untoward chance
that presides over human affairs; such is the malignant destiny by which
my steps have ever been pursued. The bullet whistled harmlessly by
me,—levelled by an eye that never before failed, and with so small an
interval between us. I escaped, but my blind and random shot took place
in his heart.</p>
<p>"There is the fruit of this disastrous meeting. The catalogue of death
is thus completed. Thou sleepest, Watson! Thy sister is at rest, and so
art thou. Thy vows of vengeance are at an end. It was not reserved for
thee to be thy own and thy sister's avenger. Welbeck's measure of
transgressions is now full, and his own hand must execute the justice
that is due to him."</p>
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