To admit the persuasions of such an advocate to so
uncommon a scheme as that of sharing her house with a creature thus
previously unknown to her, thus loaded with suspicion and with obloquy,
was not possible. I at last forbore importunity, and requested her to tell me when I might
expect to meet with Mrs. Fielding at her lodgings. Inquiry was made to
what end I sought an interview. I made no secret of my purpose. "Are you mad, young man?" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Fielding has already been
egregiously imprudent. On the faith of an ancient slight acquaintance
with Mrs. Villars in Europe, she suffered herself to be decoyed into a
visit. Instead of taking warning by numerous tokens of the real
character of that woman, in her behaviour and in that of her visitants,
she consented to remain there one night. The next morning took place
that astonishing interview with you which she has since described to me. She is now warned against the like indiscretion. And, pray, what
benevolent scheme would you propose to her?" "Has she property? Is she rich?" "She is. Unhappily, perhaps, for her, she is absolute mistress of her
fortune, and has neither guardian nor parent to control her in the use
of it." "Has she virtue? Does she know the value of affluence and a fair fame? And will not she devote a few dollars to rescue a fellow-creature from
indigence and infamy and vice? Surely she will. She will hazard nothing
by the boon. I will be her almoner. I will provide the wretched stranger
with food and raiment and dwelling; I will pay for all, if Mrs. Fielding, from her superfluity, will supply the means. Clemenza shall
owe life and honour to your friend, till I am able to supply the needful
sum from my own stock." While thus speaking, my companion gazed at me with steadfastness:--"I
know not what to make of you. Your language and ideas are those of a
lunatic. Are you acquainted with Mrs. Fielding?" "Yes. I have seen her two days ago, and she has invited me to see her
again." "And on the strength of this acquaintance you expect to be her almoner? To be the medium of her charity?" "I desire to save her trouble; to make charity as light and easy as
possible. 'Twill be better if she perform those offices herself. 'Twill
redound more to the credit of her reason and her virtue. But I solicit
her benignity only in the cause of Clemenza. For her only do I wish at
present to call forth her generosity and pity." "And do you imagine she will intrust her money to one of your age and
sex, whom she knows so imperfectly, to administer to the wants of one
whom she found in such a house as Mrs. Villars's? She never will. She
mentioned her imprudent engagement to meet you, but she is now warned
against the folly of such confidence. "You have told me plausible stories of yourself and of this Clemenza. I
cannot say that I disbelieve them, but I know the ways of the world too
well to bestow implicit faith so easily. You are an extraordinary young
man. You may possibly be honest. Such a one as you, with your education
and address, may possibly have passed all your life in a hovel; but it
is scarcely credible, let me tell you. I believe most of the facts
respecting my nephew, because my knowledge of him before his flight
would enable me to detect your falsehood; but there must be other proofs
besides an innocent brow and a voluble tongue, to make me give full
credit to your pretensions. "I have no claim upon Welbeck which can embarrass you. On that score,
you are free from any molestation from me or my friends. I have
suspected you of being an accomplice in some vile plot, and am now
inclined to acquit you; but that is all that you must expect from me,
till your character be established by other means than your own
assertions. I am engaged at present, and must therefore request you to
put an end to your visit." This strain was much unlike the strain which preceded it. I imagined, by
the mildness of her tone and manners, that her unfavourable
prepossessions were removed; but they seemed to have suddenly regained
their pristine force. I was somewhat disconcerted by this unexpected
change. I stood for a minute silent and irresolute. Just then a knock was heard at the door, and presently entered that very
female whom I had met with at Villars's. I caught her figure as I
glanced through the window. Mrs. Wentworth darted at me many significant
glances, which commanded me to withdraw; but, with this object in view,
it was impossible. As soon as she entered, her eyes were fixed upon me. Certain
recollections naturally occurred at that moment, and made her cheeks
glow. Some confusion reigned for a moment, but was quickly dissipated. She did not notice me, but exchanged salutations with her friend. All this while I stood near the window, in a situation not a little
painful. Certain tremors which I had not been accustomed to feel, and
which seemed to possess a mystical relation to the visitant, disabled me
at once from taking my leave, or from performing any useful purpose by
staying. At length, struggling for composure, I approached her, and,
showing her the card she had given me, said,--

"Agreeably to this direction, I called an hour ago, at your lodgings. I
found you not. I hope you will permit me to call once more. When shall
I expect to meet you at home?" Her eyes were cast on the floor. A kind of indirect attention was fixed
on Mrs. Wentworth, serving to intimidate and check her. At length she
said, in an irresolute voice, "I shall be at home this evening." "And this evening," replied I, "I will call to see you." So saying, I
left the house. This interval was tedious, but was to be endured with equanimity. I was
impatient to be gone to Baltimore, and hoped to be able to set out by
the dawn of next day. Meanwhile, I was necessarily to perform something
with respect to Clemenza. After dinner I accompanied Mrs. Stevens to visit Miss Carlton. I was
eager to see a woman who could bear adversity in the manner which my
friend had described. She met us at the door of her apartment. Her seriousness was not abated
by her smiles of affability and welcome. "My friend!" whispered I, "how
truly lovely is this Miss Carlton! Are the heart and the intelligence
within worthy of these features?" "Yes, they are. The account of her employments, of her resignation to
the ill fate of the brother whom she loves, proves that they are." My eyes were riveted to her countenance and person. I felt
uncontrollable eagerness to speak to her, and to gain her good opinion. "You must know this young man, my dear Miss Carlton," said my friend,
looking at me; "he is my husband's friend, and professes a great desire
to be yours. You must not treat him as a mere stranger, for he knows
your character and situation already, as well as that of your brother." She looked at me with benignity:--"I accept his friendship willingly and
gratefully, and shall endeavour to convince him that his good opinion is
not misplaced."