After viewing various parts of the city, intruding into churches, and
diving into alleys, I returned. The rest of the day I spent chiefly in
my chamber, reflecting on my new condition; surveying my apartment, its
presses and closets; and conjecturing the causes of appearances. At dinner and supper I was alone. Venturing to inquire of the servant
where his master and mistress were, I was answered that they were
engaged. I did not question him as to the nature of their engagement,
though it was a fertile source of curiosity. Next morning, at breakfast, I again met Welbeck and the lady. The
incidents were nearly those of the preceding morning, if it were not
that the lady exhibited tokens of somewhat greater uneasiness. When she
left us, Welbeck sank into apparent meditation. I was at a loss whether
to retire or remain where I was. At last, however, I was on the point of
leaving the room, when he broke silence and began a conversation with
me. He put questions to me, the obvious scope of which was to know my
sentiments on moral topics. I had no motives to conceal my opinions, and
therefore delivered them with frankness. At length he introduced
allusions to my own history, and made more particular inquiries on that
head. Here I was not equally frank; yet I did not feign any thing, but
merely dealt in generals. I had acquired notions of propriety on this
head, perhaps somewhat fastidious. Minute details, respecting our own
concerns, are apt to weary all but the narrator himself. I said thus
much, and the truth of my remark was eagerly assented to. With some marks of hesitation and after various preliminaries, my
companion hinted that my own interest, as well as his, enjoined upon me
silence to all but himself, on the subject of my birth and early
adventures. It was not likely that, while in his service, my circle of
acquaintance would be large or my intercourse with the world frequent;
but in my communication with others he requested me to speak rather of
others than of myself. This request, he said, might appear singular to
me, but he had his reasons for making it, which it was not necessary, at
present, to disclose, though, when I should know them, I should readily
acknowledge their validity. I scarcely knew what answer to make. I was willing to oblige him. I was
far from expecting that any exigence would occur, making disclosure my
duty. The employment was productive of pain more than of pleasure, and
the curiosity that would uselessly seek a knowledge of my past life was
no less impertinent than the loquacity that would uselessly communicate
that knowledge. I readily promised, therefore, to adhere to his advice. This assurance afforded him evident satisfaction; yet it did not seem to
amount to quite as much as he wished. He repeated, in stronger terms,
the necessity there was for caution. He was far from suspecting me to
possess an impertinent and talkative disposition, or that, in my
eagerness to expatiate on my own concerns, I should overstep the limits
of politeness. But this was not enough. I was to govern myself by a
persuasion that the interests of my friend and myself would be
materially affected by my conduct. Perhaps I ought to have allowed these insinuations to breed suspicion in
my mind; but, conscious as I was of the benefits which I had received
from this man; prone, from my inexperience, to rely upon professions and
confide in appearances; and unaware that I could be placed in any
condition in which mere silence respecting myself could be injurious or
criminal, I made no scruple to promise compliance with his wishes. Nay,
I went further than this; I desired to be accurately informed as to what
it was proper to conceal. He answered that my silence might extend to
every thing anterior to my arrival in the city and my being incorporated
with his family. Here our conversation ended, and I retired to ruminate
on what had passed. I derived little satisfaction from my reflections. I began now to
perceive inconveniences that might arise from this precipitate promise. Whatever should happen in consequence of my being immured in the
chamber, and of the loss of my clothes and of the portrait of my friend,
I had bound myself to silence. These inquietudes, however, were
transient. I trusted that these events would operate auspiciously; but
my curiosity was now awakened as to the motives which _Welbeck_ could
have for exacting from me this concealment. To act under the guidance of
another, and to wander in the dark, ignorant whither my path tended and
what effects might flow from my agency, was a new and irksome situation. From these thoughts I was recalled by a message from Welbeck. He gave me
a folded paper, which he requested me to carry to No.--South Fourth
Street. "Inquire," said he, "for Mrs. Wentworth, in order merely to
ascertain the house, for you need not ask to see her; merely give the
letter to the servant and retire. Excuse me for imposing this service
upon you. It is of too great moment to be trusted to a common messenger;
I usually perform it myself, but am at present otherwise engaged." I took the letter and set out to deliver it. This was a trifling
circumstance, yet my mind was full of reflections on the consequences
that might flow from it. I remembered the directions that were given,
but construed them in a manner different, perhaps, from Welbeck's
expectations or wishes. He had charged me to leave the billet with the
servant who happened to answer my summons; but had he not said that the
message was important, insomuch that it could not be intrusted to common
hands? He had permitted, rather than enjoined, me to dispense with
seeing the lady; and this permission I conceived to be dictated merely
by regard to my convenience. It was incumbent on me, therefore, to take
some pains to deliver the script into her own hands. I arrived at the house and knocked. A female servant appeared. "Her
mistress was up-stairs; she would tell her if I wished to see her," and
meanwhile invited me to enter the parlour; I did so; and the girl
retired to inform her mistress that one waited for her. I ought to
mention that my departure from the directions which I had received was,
in some degree, owing to an inquisitive temper; I was eager after
knowledge, and was disposed to profit by every opportunity to survey the
interior of dwellings and converse with their inhabitants. I scanned the walls, the furniture, the pictures. Over the fireplace was
a portrait in oil of a female. She was elderly and matron-like. Perhaps
she was the mistress of this habitation, and the person to whom I should
immediately be introduced. Was it a casual suggestion, or was there an
actual resemblance between the strokes of the pencil which executed this
portrait and that of Clavering? However that be, the sight of this
picture revived the memory of my friend and called up a fugitive
suspicion that this was the production of his skill. I was busily revolving this idea when the lady herself entered.