The men now betrayed some impatience; and inquired of the last comer,
whom they called Mr. Estwick, what they were to do. He turned to me, and
asked if I were willing to be conducted to the hospital. I assured him that I was free from disease, and stood in no need of
assistance; adding, that my feebleness was owing to a stunning blow
received from a ruffian on my temple. The marks of this blow were
conspicuous, and after some hesitation he dismissed the men; who,
lifting the empty coffin on their shoulders, disappeared. He now invited me to descend into the parlour; "for," said he, "the air
of this room is deadly. I feel already as if I should have reason to
repent of having entered it." He now inquired into the cause of those appearances which he had
witnessed. I explained my situation as clearly and succinctly as I was
able. After pondering, in silence, on my story,--"I see how it is," said he;
"the person whom thou sawest in the agonies of death was a stranger. He
was attended by his servant and a hired nurse. His master's death being
certain, the nurse was despatched by the servant to procure a coffin. He
probably chose that opportunity to rifle his master's trunk, that stood
upon the table. Thy unseasonable entrance interrupted him; and he
designed, by the blow which he gave thee, to secure his retreat before
the arrival of a hearse. I know the man, and the apparition thou hast so
well described was his. Thou sayest that a friend of thine lived in this
house: thou hast come too late to be of service. The whole family have
perished. Not one was suffered to escape." This intelligence was fatal to my hopes. It required some efforts to
subdue my rising emotions. Compassion not only for Wallace, but for
Thetford, his father, his wife and his child, caused a passionate
effusion of tears. I was ashamed of this useless and childlike
sensibility; and attempted to apologize to my companion. The sympathy,
however, had proved contagious, and the stranger turned away his face to
hide his own tears. "Nay," said he, in answer to my excuses, "there is no need to be ashamed
of thy emotion. Merely to have known this family, and to have witnessed
their deplorable fate, is sufficient to melt the most obdurate heart. I
suspect that thou wast united to some one of this family by ties of
tenderness like those which led the unfortunate _Maravegli_ hither." This suggestion was attended, in relation to myself, with some degree of
obscurity; but my curiosity was somewhat excited by the name that he had
mentioned, I inquired into the character and situation of this person,
and particularly respecting his connection with this family. "Maravegli," answered he, "was the lover of the eldest daughter, and
already betrothed to her. The whole family, consisting of helpless
females, had placed themselves under his peculiar guardianship. Mary
Walpole and her children enjoyed in him a husband and a father." The name of Walpole, to which I was a stranger, suggested doubts which I
hastened to communicate. "I am in search," said I, "not of a female
friend, though not devoid of interest in the welfare of Thetford and his
family. My principal concern is for a youth, by name Wallace." He looked at me with surprise. "Thetford! this is not his abode. He
changed his habitation some weeks previous to the _fever_. Those who
last dwelt under this roof were an Englishwoman and seven daughters." This detection of my error somewhat consoled me. It was still possible
that Wallace was alive and in safety. I eagerly inquired whither
Thetford had removed, and whether he had any knowledge of his present
condition. They had removed to No.--, in Market Street. Concerning their state he
knew nothing. His acquaintance with Thetford was imperfect. Whether he
had left the city or had remained, he was wholly uninformed. It became me to ascertain the truth in these respects. I was preparing
to offer my parting thanks to the person by whom I had been so highly
benefited; since, as he now informed me, it was by his interposition
that I was hindered from being enclosed alive in a coffin. He was
dubious of my true condition, and peremptorily commanded the followers
of the hearse to desist. A delay of twenty minutes, and some medical
application, would, he believed, determine whether my life was
extinguished or suspended. At the end of this time, happily, my senses
were recovered. Seeing my intention to depart, he inquired why, and whither I was going. Having heard my answer,--"Thy design," resumed he, "is highly indiscreet
and rash. Nothing will sooner generate this fever than fatigue and
anxiety. Thou hast scarcely recovered from the blow so lately received. Instead of being useful to others, this precipitation will only disable
thyself. Instead of roaming the streets and inhaling this unwholesome
air, thou hadst better betake thyself to bed and try to obtain some
sleep. In the morning, thou wilt be better qualified to ascertain the
fate of thy friend, and afford him the relief which he shall want." I could not but admit the reasonableness of these remonstrances; but
where should a chamber and bed be sought? It was not likely that a new
attempt to procure accommodation at the inns would succeed better than
the former. "Thy state," replied he, "is sorrowful. I have no house to which I can
lead thee. I divide my chamber, and even my bed, with another, and my
landlady could not be prevailed upon to admit a stranger. What thou wilt
do, I know not. This house has no one to defend it. It was purchased and
furnished by the last possessor; but the whole family, including
mistress, children, and servants, were cut off in a single week. Perhaps no one in America can claim the property. Meanwhile, plunderers
are numerous and active. A house thus totally deserted, and replenished
with valuable furniture, will, I fear, become their prey. To-night
nothing can be done towards rendering it secure, but staying in it. Art
thou willing to remain here till the morrow? "Every bed in the house has probably sustained a dead person. It would
not be proper, therefore, to lie in any one of them. Perhaps thou mayest
find some repose upon this carpet. It is, at least, better than the
harder pavement and the open air." This proposal, after some hesitation, I embraced. He was preparing to
leave me, promising, if life were spared to him, to return early in the
morning. My curiosity respecting the person whose dying agonies I had
witnessed prompted me to detain him a few minutes. "Ah!" said he, "this, perhaps, is the only one of many victims to this
pestilence whose loss the remotest generations may have reason to
deplore. He was the only descendant of an illustrious house of Venice. He has been devoted from his childhood to the acquisition of knowledge
and the practice of virtue.