CHAP. VI.
I again return to my story. The recital of my life produced an effect which the good Abdallah had not foreseen. He frequently indulged me in the recapitulation of those circumstances of my disastrous fortune, which no interval of time had been able to erase from my mind. He permitted me, my Harriet, to speak of my wife, of my hopes as a parent; and my wounds bled afresh. To pity and soothings, he added more solid proofs of his regard. “I am old,” observed he, “and cannot live long; you are a comfort to me; and the fate of those you deplore isprobably long since decided. I will give you freedom, and the means of returning to your country, on condition you remain here, and close my eyes.” I, with gratitude, accepted of those terms; and, some months before he died, he had, in presence of the official magistrate, formally registered my freedom. He had, moreover, the precaution to give me a purse of gold, which he ordered me to secrete, saying, that his death might leave me pennyless, as he could not trust to the generosity of those who might succeed him. I was faithful to my benefactor; and in heaven we shall again be friends!
I met with no impediment after his decease in the steps I took for my farther enlargement, and at length with my little treasure I reached Alexandria, where I found a French vessel ready to sail for Marseilles, in which I embarked as a passenger. My early acquaintance with the mathematics, and my desultory voyageswith my patron, had rendered me no inexpert seaman. Our navigation was tedious, and the captain an ignorant babbler. For amusement, I had recourse to my activity; and, in the exercise on deck, I saw that the vessel was badly manœuvred, and in a crazy condition; keeping us constantly at the pump, and under apprehensions for our safety. Inured to labour, and cheerfully giving my time to the common relief of all, I became a favourite with the sailors, which providentially saved their lives and my own. Within a few leagues of our port we met with rough weather; and a swelling sea succeeded the gale, which was only formidable to a ship in the condition of ours. The leak gained upon us rapidly, and the captain, in despair, gave orders for the longboat to be prepared, and for each man to think of his preservation. The night was dark, and the peril obvious, in an attempt to reach land in the boat. My argumentsprevailed; by incessant toil we kept the vessel floating till day break, when we took to the boat, and saw her sink before we had gone half a furlong. We reached, however, the port, and theshipwrecked Duncan, once more saw himself poor and friendless; but I wasfree. I looked at my muscular arms and I smiled; for I wasindependent; and quitting my companions, who were relieved from their necessities by the charity they solicited, I repaired to a house, in order to replenish my strength with bread of myown. My slender purse sufficed, however, for my wants. I had enough to buy me the dress of a seaman, and fortunately finding an American ship bound for London, I offered myself as a shipwrecked Englishman, willing to work my passagehome. Something in my voice and manner betrayed my feelings, when I pronounced the wordhome. The captain had the heart of a man, and I was told, to take mybirth“on board” that very evening,and that it should be a warm one; for he pitied me. During the voyage my quiet melancholy and some accidental discourses of “my learning,” to use the worthy captain’s word, so augmented the interest his benevolence had excited in my behalf, that, on reaching our port, he asked me what were my intentions respecting my future employment. I replied that my first care would be to seek out afriend, who, if found, would determine my fate, and probably place me beyond the reach of penury. “But you may not find him,” replied he, viewing with attention emotions which I was unable to check. “Let me advise you to keep where you are, till you can do better. I like you, and will retain you as ship steward; you are a good seaman and an honest capable man; and may be the maker of your own fortune.” I rejected this offer, saying, that I knew not whether my private concerns would permit me to leave England so soon as he would.“Well,” replied he, “I will not press you into my service; but I must pay for what you have done. I was on the look-out for a hand to supply one who had left me when we met. You have more than done that fellow’s duty, and you are justly entitled to your wages.” He placed ten guineas in my hand, and added, that whilst the ship was at her moorings, he thought I might as well make her my “head quarters,” as she would give me a bed and board until a better hammock was found; “and in order to make this offer sit easy on your mind,” continued he, taking my trembling hand, “You may keep a clear reckoning, by being useful to me with your pen, and your sobriety.” He instantly left me, and at his return I thanked him, and entered on my office of clerkship.
My approach to England had opened those wounds which time and religion had in part closed; but I mean not to placebefore you the condition of a mind torn by the anguish of reflecting on you, and corroded by the feelings of resentment, and the purposes of vengeance, which alternately governed my soul. At the sight of London my spirits forsook me, my heart ceased to beat, and I was conveyed to my bed in a state of insensibility. Would to God! I had found in this respite from misery, my final dismissal from sense and sorrow! But returning recollection only restored me to the contemplation of my wretched state. Forlorn and friendless; cut off from the sweet ties of affinity; blasted in fame; stamped with ignominy, and marked for justice! Deprived of the only comfort, the only hope of my life! my wife, my Harriet! who had been either destroyed in the wreck of my fortune, or lived to despise and to curse me as her undoer—Oh! let me pause!
I nowworelife away: one purpose absorbedmy every sense of fatigue, every fear for my safety! No traces of the Keiths remained untrod; these ended in disappointments. Another family had established themselves in the square; and even that had changed, in many respects, its former aspect; for I scarcely saw on the doors a name that I could recall to my memory. Yet to this spot was I irresistibly drawn, and for hours together have I paced it. One day, and towards its close, I perceived that I excited the curiosity of the people who passed me; and that one person in particular was observing me from the window of that abode, in which I had tasted of the cup of bliss, in order, as it should seem, to know more acutely that of wretchedness. I instinctively turned down a passage leading into Ormond Street. In passing a small shop, the window of which displayed, with the food of the poor, the humble luxuries of penny pies and tarts, I stopped with others, inorder to appease the wrath of the woman, whose property had been invaded by a child of about ten years old, whom she had detected in stealing a tart. Her fury was subdued by some one who paid for the delinquent’s trespass; and the collected persons continued their way with the weeping and terrified girl. From the train of thought which this little incident had produced in my mind, I was recalled to the consideration of the Harridan’s face, who wondering probablyat mine, and my remaining before her door, asked me what I wished for. I instantly recognized the girl, when in former times I had daily passed at her station near the passage I was then in, where sitting by a wheelbarrow, she sold her similar commodities, and exhibited a face, which time could not change; for a claret coloured mark so completely covered one side of it, as to form a half mask; and with this defect she was moreover exceedingly deformed;.Struck by the conviction of her being a person who must have some knowledge of Mr. Flamall’s family, I entered the shop, and placing myself on an old chest which half filled it, I asked for some cold meat, she applied herself to cutting and weighing it. “Do not spare it,” said I, throwing down half a crown, “I am hungry and faint, having walked from Wapping; and my return thither to-night must be provided for. Could you procure me a pint of porter?” “In a moment,” answered she with alacrity, calling to a boy opposite, who as instantly supplied the demand. My questions followed; and as the prelude to them, I told her I thought I had seen her many years back, when I was often a visitor in a family, who then resided in Red Lion Square; but that I fancied they were removed, not seeing the name ofFlamallin the Square. “Very likely,” answered she, “mine is a face not easily forgotten; but I thank God, thirtyfiveyears standing at my barrow, have proved it an honest one; and you see me now with a house over my head, which will, I hope, better shelter me, than many in the Square have done those who passed me in all their glory and pride.” “Was Mr. Flamall one of those who lived too fast for his holding the station he was in when I knew him?” asked I, “Oh dear no,” replied she, “there was no fear of that, he knew too well how to get money to be in danger of being poor. He sold his house when he married his sister to a rich old man, and took rooms in Lincoln’s Inn, he was too high to be called an attorney, and it has been forsoothcounsellorFlamall from that time.” “I must find him,” observed I, “for I have some business with himas an attorney. A relation of mine left him to manage her affairs when she died, and I shall expect my little legacy” “I wish you may find it,” answered she, “but they say he is asharp one, and loves money.” It was a shame to marry, as he did, that beautiful young creature his sister, to an old hunks of seventy. “But I suppose the young lady was consulted,” observed I. “I suppose so too,” answered she, “for, God be praised, they cannot in this country force a poor girl to the altar; but, as I have been told, Miss Flamall was broken-hearted for the loss of a sweetheart, and for a long time thought to be dying, and she did not care what became of her honour; she has been lucky on the whole, for the old man soon left her a widow, and she married a very proper looking gentleman; and is now called my lady. But it is years since I have seen her; and she may or may not be living; for she went into the North with her first husband, and I have never seen her since; nor should I have known thus much, but from an acquaintance, who lived sometime with her as cook, when she kept her brother’s house.”“What was the girl’s name?” asked I. “I remember one who lived in the family at the time my aunt died, when I was frequently at the house on the business in question.” “Mary Nutt,” replied she, without embarrassment; “but she married, and died in child-bed, poor soul!” My enquiries terminated here, my agonies were not to be concealed, and hastily rising, observing that I should be late, I withdrew; the woman loudly calling to me to take my change. It was already dark; and the intelligence I had received had harrowed up every image of despair in my benighted soul. Shall I retrace the horrors of that night, when wandering from street to street, my footsteps conducted me to the river side? I stopped: I summed up the blessings I had lost. I became desperate, Harriet! The moment of perdition was suspended by a watchman’s passing me, who roughly asked me what I was about. I replied, that I wanted a boat.“You will do well to wait till day break,” answered he, surveying me with attention. “Come, my poor fellow, let me show you a house where you will be safe.” Subdued by the gracious interposition which had saved me, I burst into tears, and thanking the man, I said, I would walk to my ship, naming it and Captain Nelson. “You are a cup too low,” observed he, “come, I will share a pot with you; you are an honest man by your looks; but you must not remain here.” I complied, and he led the way to a public house which was open. I shared with him the porter he called for; and he returned to his duty, exacting from me a promise, that I would wait for day light. It came, Harriet, and I determined to live, and to take ample vengeance on my destroyer’s head. The state of my mind was such, as to admit of no impediments in my projects of revenge. I informed Captain Nelson that I was going into the country, in the hopeof meeting with a person whom it was necessary for me to see. Again he pressed me to continue with him; but finding me determined, he contented himself with again supplying my purse with five guineas, and recommending me in the strongest terms, to the owner of the wharf he used, and who happened to be present. This man engaged to employ me, in case my necessities should oblige me to labour for my bread; and giving me his address, he bade me come to him should my journey not turn out to my expectation. I had no chains to impede my feet; but measuring the distance by land, and my strength, I preferred working down my passage to Newcastle; having learned from the porter at Lincoln’s Inn, that Mr. Flamall was at his brother’s, Sir Murdoch Maclairn’s seat near Durham.
Aware of the impression which sorrow has given to my toil-worn countenance, I have personated here a shipwrecked, andsick mariner; and pity gave me shelter. Here ends my eventful tale, and here terminates the decree of Heaven, which pronounced that Charles Duncan should have no friend, no comforter, but that Being in whose approbation he should find peace and repose. I have seen you, I have heard your voice! I listened to your accents of melting tenderness and sympathy when you talked of your husband. “He is a man,” said you, “of whom it may with truth be said that he has been steeped in affliction, yet, my Malcolm, like his Divine Master, he bows resigned to his cross; he murmurs not—but in his sufferings teaches us patience.” And to whom was this said? to your son, to Maclairn’s child! No frenzy followed this scene of anguish, but tears, my Harriet, which, like the dew of heaven on the parched earth, allayed the fever of my disturbed brain, and solaced my burning bosom. I forgot myself, I saw only in my Harriet, Maclairn’swife and his son’s mother, dignified and matured, by that virtue which had attracted my adoration.
Persevere most excellent of thy sex! fulfil the duties of thy station! forget that I have invaded on your peace by this intrusion; but my eternal safety depended on your believing meinnocentandfaithful. A little while, and I shall be in that grave, in whichfor yearsyou have believed me to be. The storm of passion yields to better thoughts. I will never see Flamall if I can help it. Trust to my word, it has never deceived you; and to the God of truth I make my appeal; that in thought, word, and deed, Charles Duncan was worthy of your love, and will die in the blessed hope of meeting your pure spirit in a world of permanent joy and peace.
As soon as I am assured that this packet is in your possession, I shall quit your neighbourhood, and finally leave a country, in which, as for Noah’s dove, thereis no resting place for my foot. But should thy gentle nature turn aside from the sorrows at hand, to follow the hapless wanderer anew in his painful course, remember, that,
“Though in a bare and rugged way“Through devious lonely paths I stray,“Thy presence shall my pains beguile,“The barren wilderness shall smile.”
“Though in a bare and rugged way“Through devious lonely paths I stray,“Thy presence shall my pains beguile,“The barren wilderness shall smile.”
“Though in a bare and rugged way“Through devious lonely paths I stray,“Thy presence shall my pains beguile,“The barren wilderness shall smile.”
“Though in a bare and rugged way
“Through devious lonely paths I stray,
“Thy presence shall my pains beguile,
“The barren wilderness shall smile.”
Think not that I misapply these lines; for my God will not refuse the worship of a heart, because still alive to those affections he implanted there as his most precious gift. Farewell! once more I conjure you by the tenderness and compassion which this will awaken in your bosom, to banish all regrets. Thou wast a widow, Harriet, from the hour that Duncan’s honour received its deadly wound. Thy vows were absolved from the hour thou wast taught to believe me capable of deserting thee, even to secure my own life. I have no doubts to clear away. Thou wast inthe hands of amonster; and heaven has been merciful, in extricating thee from the snares of vice and infamy, whichthat monsterhad prepared for thee.
Farewell,Charles Duncan.
Farewell,Charles Duncan.
Farewell,Charles Duncan.
Farewell,Charles Duncan.
P.S. Judge of my resolution! I have heard that Flamall is daily expected at the hall. I have heard him execrated as the tyrant who rules there. I have heard my Harriet pitied! Yet will I forbear. Duncan shall not be his own avenger; for there is a God “to whom vengeance belongeth,” and he will not be mocked. I fly from the temptation of infringing his sacred rights. Your peace is the shield which I oppose to my just, my everlasting enmity withthis demon. Again I promise, that this hand shall not be raised against your brother; for were it, my injuries would give it strength, and justice would guide it. Once more farewell! Think not of the lost Charles. He is only an atom.
Lady Maclairn in continuation.
From the hour that Maclairn’s wife has had this evidence of the triumph of villainy over a man, graced and endowed with every requisite to awe it, and to subject its designs by the power of the virtue inherent in his soul, she has been a stranger to peace.
My conscience, lulled to repose by the fond hope of being necessary to your comforts, my dear Maclairn, as being the sharer of your sorrows, and the companion and friend in whose presence you sometimes solaced your woes, and as one whom you ever saw without trouble or disquietude, had ceased to upbraid me for crimes, to which I had been betrayed, by the authority of my brother and my own timidity. Had I, in the first hour, listened to my self-reproaches on discovering that I had been deceived, and that there still existed a witness against me able, in a moment,to render me the object of your scorn and detestation, I should not have shrunk from an open avowal of the infamy I had incurred; for I felt that the woman who is dishonoured in her own eyes, and condemned by her own conscience, can meet with no encrease to her misery from the contempt of the world. But as I was Malcolm Maclairn’s mother and the ostensible guardian of his father’s honour and unsullied name, I have been dumb, and have sustained my burden with patience for their sakes.
But the time is not far remote, when Heaven, in compassion to my contrition and sorrows, will release me. You, my beloved Maclairn, will acknowledge that I have been faithful; and Malcolm will honour his mother’s grave with a tear, and he will say, “she has expiated her offence by her sufferings, and has proclaimed that she loved the truth, from which she was so fatally led away by aFlamall. Let me,O heaven, depart in this hope! or be, as though I had never lived to those for whom I have lived. Oh spare to them the pang of pronouncing Harriet unworthy of the name of Maclairn!
I will not, my dear Lucy, hazard a single reflexion on this touching narrative, until the full tide of my compassion is somewhat subsided. At present I am disposed to consider that virtue too rigid, which could condemn a culprit like Lady Maclairn; and to say the truth, my heart is too well disposed to admire and to acquit her. You will not, therefore, expect any decision in opinion until you hear from me again. I shall be anxious to hear that this packet reaches you in safety. Believe, that though Lady Maclairn’s “dear friend,” I am still your
Rachel Cowley.
Rachel Cowley.
Rachel Cowley.
Rachel Cowley.
P. S. Mrs. Allen sends her love. She is convinced that Miss Flint loses ground.