Hadwin's visage had some traces of resemblance to his brother; but the
meek, placid air, pale cheeks, and slender form of the latter were
powerfully contrasted with the bloated arrogance, imperious brow, and
robust limbs of the former. This man's rage was awakened by a straw; it
impelled him in an instant to oaths and buffetings, and made his life an
eternal brawl. The sooner my interview with such a personage should be
at an end, the better. I therefore explained the purpose of my coming as
fully and in as few words as possible. "Your name, sir, is Philip Hadwin. Your brother William, of Malverton,
died lately and left two daughters. The youngest only is now alive, and
I come, commissioned from her, to inform you that, as no will of her
father's is extant, she is preparing to administer to his estate. As her
father's brother, she thought you entitled to this information." The change which took place in the countenance of this man, during this
address, was remarkable, but not easily described. His cheeks contracted
a deeper crimson, his eyes sparkled, and his face assumed an expression
in which curiosity was mingled with rage. He bent forward, and said, in
a hoarse and contemptuous tone, "Pray, is your name Mervyn?" I answered, without hesitation, and as if the question were wholly
unimportant, "Yes; my name is Mervyn." "God damn it! You then are the damned rascal"--(but permit me to repeat
his speech without the oaths with which it was plentifully interlarded. Not three words were uttered without being garnished with a--"God damn
it!" "damnation!" "I'll be damned to hell if"--and the like energetic
expletives.) "You then are the rascal that robbed Billy's house; that
ran away with the fool his daughter; persuaded her to burn her father's
will, and have the hellish impudence to come into this house! But I
thank you for it. I was going to look for you; you've saved me trouble. I'll settle all accounts with you here. Fair and softly, my good lad! If
I don't bring you to the gallows--If I let you escape without such a
dressing! Damned impudence! Fellow! I've been at Malverton. I've heard
of your tricks. So! finding the will not quite to your mind, knowing
that the executor would balk your schemes, you threw the will into the
fire; you robbed the house of all the cash, and made off with the
girl!--The old fellow saw it all, and will swear to the truth." These words created some surprise. I meant not to conceal from this man
the tenor and destruction of the will, nor even the measures which his
niece had taken or intended to take. What I supposed to be unknown to
him appeared to have been communicated by the talkative Caleb, whose
mind was more inquisitive and less sluggish than first appearances had
led me to imagine. Instead of moping by the kitchen-fire when Eliza and
I were conversing in an upper room, it now appeared that he had
reconnoitred our proceedings through some keyhole or crevice, and had
related what he had seen to Hadwin. Hadwin proceeded to exhaust his rage in oaths and menaces. He frequently
clenched his fist and thrust it in my face, drew it back as if to render
his blow more deadly; ran over the same series of exclamations on my
impudence and villany, and talked of the gallows and the whipping-post;
enforced each word by the epithets _damnable_ and _hellish_; closed each
sentence with--"and be curst to you!" There was but one mode for me to pursue; all forcible opposition to a
man of his strength was absurd. It was my province to make his anger
confine itself to words, and patiently to wait till the paroxysm should
end or subside of itself. To effect this purpose, I kept my seat, and
carefully excluded from my countenance every indication of timidity and
panic on the one hand, and of scorn and defiance on the other. My look
and attitude were those of a man who expected harsh words, but who
entertained no suspicion that blows would be inflicted. I was indebted for my safety to an inflexible adherence to this medium. To have strayed, for a moment, to either side, would have brought upon
me his blows. That he did not instantly resort to violence inspired me
with courage, since it depended on myself whether food should be
supplied to his passion. Rage must either progress or decline; and,
since it was in total want of provocation, it could not fail of
gradually subsiding. My demeanour was calculated to damp the flame, not only by its direct
influence, but by diverting his attention from the wrongs which he had
received, to the novelty of my behaviour. The disparity in size and
strength between us was too evident to make him believe that I confided
in my sinews for my defence; and, since I betrayed neither contempt nor
fear, he could not but conclude that I trusted to my own integrity or to
his moderation. I seized the first pause in his rhetoric to enforce this
sentiment. "You are angry, Mr. Hadwin, and are loud in your threats; but they do
not frighten me. They excite no apprehension or alarm, because I know
myself able to convince you that I have not injured you. This is an inn,
and I am your guest. I am sure I shall find better entertainment than
blows. Come," continued I, smiling, "it is possible that I am not so
mischievous a wretch as your fancy paints me. I have no claims upon your
niece but that of friendship, and she is now in the house of an honest
man, Mr. Curling, where she proposes to continue as long as is
convenient. "It is true that your brother left a will, which his daughter burnt in
my presence, because she dreaded the authority which that will gave you,
not only over her property, but person. It is true that on leaving the
house she took away the money which was now her own, and which was
necessary to subsistence. It is true that I bore her company, and have
left her in an honest man's keeping. I am answerable for nothing more. As to you, I meant not to injure you; I advised not the burning of the
will. I was a stranger, till after that event, to your character. I knew
neither good nor ill of you. I came to tell you all this, because, as
Eliza's uncle, you had a right to the information." "So! you come to tell me that she burnt the will, and is going to
administer--to what, I beseech you? To her father's property? Ay, I
warrant you. But take this along with you:--that property is mine; land,
house, stock, every thing. All is safe and snug under cover of a
mortgage, to which Billy was kind enough to add a bond. One was sued,
and the other _entered up_, a week ago. So that all is safe under my
thumb, and the girl may whistle or starve for me. I shall give myself no
concern about the strumpet. You thought to get a prize; but, damn me,
you've met with your match in me. Phil Haddin's not so easily choused, I
promise you. I intended to give you this news, and a drubbing into the
bargain; but you may go, and make haste. She burnt the will, did she,
because I was named in it,--and sent you to tell me so? Good souls!