He paid this unfortunate stranger a visit at Mrs. Villars's. Access was easily obtained, and he found her sunk into the deepest
melancholy. The recent loss of her child, the death of Welbeck, of which
she was soon apprized, her total dependence upon those with whom she was
placed, who, however, had always treated her without barbarity or
indecorum, were the calamities that weighed down her spirits. My friend easily engaged her confidence and gratitude, and prevailed
upon her to take refuge under his own roof. Mrs. Wentworth's scruples,
as well as those of Mrs. Fielding, were removed by his arguments and
entreaties, and they consented to take upon themselves, and divide
between them, the care of her subsistence and happiness. They
condescended to express much curiosity respecting me, and some interest
in my welfare, and promised to receive me, on my return, on the footing
of a friend. With some reluctance, I at length bade my new friends farewell, and
returned to Philadelphia. Nothing remained, before I should enter on my
projected scheme of study and employment, under the guidance of Stevens,
but to examine the situation of Eliza Hadwin with my own eyes, and, if
possible, to extricate my father from his unfortunate situation. My father's state had given me the deepest concern. I figured to myself
his condition, besotted by brutal appetites, reduced to beggary, shut up
in a noisome prison, and condemned to that society which must foster all
his depraved propensities. I revolved various schemes for his relief. A
few hundreds would take him from prison; but how should he be afterwards
disposed of? How should he be cured of his indolent habits? How should
he be screened from the contagion of vicious society? By what means,
consistently with my own wants and the claims of others, should I
secure to him an acceptable subsistence? Exhortation and example were vain. Nothing but restraint would keep him
at a distance from the haunts of brawling and debauchery. The want of
money would be no obstacle to prodigality and waste. Credit would be
resorted to as long as it would answer his demand. When that failed, he
would once more be thrown into a prison; the same means to extricate him
would have to be repeated, and money be thus put into the pockets of the
most worthless of mankind, the agents of drunkenness and blasphemy,
without any permanent advantage to my father, the principal object of my
charity. Though unable to fix on any plausible mode of proceeding, I determined,
at least, to discover his present condition. Perhaps something might
suggest itself, upon the spot, suited to my purpose. Without delay I
proceeded to the village of Newtown, and, alighting at the door of the
prison, inquired for my father. "Sawny Mervyn you want, I suppose," said the keeper. "Poor fellow! He
came into limbo in a crazy condition, and has been a burden on my hands
ever since. After lingering along for some time, he was at last kind
enough to give us the slip. It is just a week since he drank his last
pint--and _died_." I was greatly shocked at this intelligence. It was some time before my
reason came to my aid, and showed me that this was an event, on the
whole, and on a disinterested and dispassionate view, not unfortunate. The keeper knew not my relation to the deceased, and readily recounted
the behaviour of the prisoner and the circumstances of his last hours. I shall not repeat the narrative. It is useless to keep alive the sad
remembrance. He was now beyond the reach of my charity or pity; and,
since reflection could answer no beneficial end to him, it was my duty
to divert my thoughts into different channels, and live henceforth for
my own happiness and that of those who were within the sphere of my
influence. I was now alone in the world, so far as the total want of kindred
creates solitude. Not one of my blood, nor even of my name, was to be
found in this quarter of the world. Of my mother's kindred I knew
nothing. So far as friendship or service might be claimed from them, to
me they had no existence. I was destitute of all those benefits which
flow from kindred, in relation to protection, advice, or property. My
inheritance was nothing. Not a single relic or trinket in my possession
constituted a memorial of my family. The scenes of my childish and
juvenile days were dreary and desolate. The fields which I was wont to
traverse, the room in which I was born, retained no traces of the past. They were the property and residence of strangers, who knew nothing of
the former tenants, and who, as I was now told, had hastened to
new-model and transform every thing within and without the habitation. These images filled me with melancholy, which, however, disappeared in
proportion as I approached the abode of my beloved girl. Absence had
endeared the image of my _Bess_--I loved to call her so--to my soul. I
could not think of her without a melting softness at my heart, and tears
in which pain and pleasure were unaccountably mingled. As I approached
Curling's house, I strained my sight, in hopes of distinguishing her
form through the evening dusk. I had told her of my purpose, by letter. She expected my approach at
this hour, and was stationed, with a heart throbbing with impatience, at
the roadside, near the gate. As soon as I alighted, she rushed into my
arms. I found my sweet friend less blithesome and contented than I wished. Her
situation, in spite of the parental and sisterly regards which she
received from the Curlings, was mournful and dreary to her imagination. Rural business was irksome, and insufficient to fill up her time. Her
life was tiresome, and uniform, and heavy. I ventured to blame her discontent, and pointed out the advantages of
her situation. "Whence," said I, "can these dissatisfactions and
repinings arise?" "I cannot tell," said she; "I don't know how it is with me. I am always
sorrowful and thoughtful. Perhaps I think too much of my poor father
and of Susan; and yet that can't be it, neither, for I think of them but
seldom; not half as much as I ought, perhaps. I think of nobody almost
but you. Instead of minding my business, or chatting and laughing with
Peggy Curling, I love to get by myself,--to read, over and over, your
letters, or to think how you are employed just then, and how happy I
should be if I were in Fanny Maurice's place. "But it is all over now; this visit rewards me for every thing. I wonder
how I could ever be sullen or mopeful. I will behave better, indeed I
will, and be always, as now, a most happy girl." The greater part of three days was spent in the society of my friend, in
listening to her relation of all that had happened during my absence,
and in communicating, in my turn, every incident which had befallen
myself. After this I once more returned to the city. CHAPTER XLIV. I now set about carrying my plan of life into effect. I began with
ardent zeal and unwearied diligence the career of medical study.