"It is a claim," he replied, "that, if it ever be made good, will doom
Welbeck to imprisonment and wholesome labour for life." "How? Surely it is nothing more than debt." "Have you not heard? But that is no wonder. Happily you are a stranger
to mercantile anxieties and revolutions. Your fortune does not rest on a
basis which an untoward blast may sweep away, or four strokes of a pen
may demolish. That hoary dealer in suspicions was persuaded to put his
hand to three notes for eight hundred dollars each. The _eight_ was then
dexterously prolonged to eigh_teen_; they were duly deposited in time
and place, and the next day Welbeck was credited for fifty-three hundred
and seventy-three, which, an hour after, were _told out_ to his
messenger. Hard to say whether the old man's grief, shame, or rage, be
uppermost. He disdains all comfort but revenge, and that he will procure
at any price. Jamieson, who deals in the same _stuff_ with Thetford, was
outwitted in the same manner, to the same amount, and on the same day. "This Welbeck must have powers above the common rate of mortals. Grown
gray in studying the follies and the stratagems of men, these veterans
were overreached. No one pities them. 'Twere well if his artifices had
been limited to such, and he had spared the honest and the poor. It is
for his injuries to men who have earned their scanty subsistence without
forfeiting their probity, that I hate him, and shall exult to see him
suffer all the rigours of the law." Here Wortley's engagements compelled
him to take his leave. CHAPTER XXV. While musing upon these facts, I could not but reflect with astonishment
on the narrow escapes which Mervyn's virtue had experienced. I was by no
means certain that his fame or his life was exempt from all danger, or
that the suspicions which had already been formed respecting him could
possibly be wiped away. Nothing but his own narrative, repeated with
that simple but nervous eloquence which we had witnessed, could rescue
him from the most heinous charges. Was there any tribunal that would not
acquit him on merely hearing his defence? Surely the youth was honest. His tale could not be the fruit of
invention; and yet, what are the bounds of fraud? Nature has set no
limits to the combinations of fancy. A smooth exterior, a show of
virtue, and a specious tale, are, a thousand times, exhibited in human
intercourse by craft and subtlety. Motives are endlessly varied, while
actions continue the same; and an acute penetration may not find it hard
to select and arrange motives, suited to exempt from censure any action
that a human being can commit. Had I heard Mervyn's story from another, or read it in a book, I might,
perhaps, have found it possible to suspect the truth; but, as long as
the impression made by his tones, gestures, and looks, remained in my
memory, this suspicion was impossible. Wickedness may sometimes be
ambiguous, its mask may puzzle the observer; our judgment may be made to
falter and fluctuate, but the face of Mervyn is the index of an honest
mind. Calm or vehement, doubting or confident, it is full of benevolence
and candour. He that listens to his words may question their truth, but
he that looks upon his countenance when speaking cannot withhold his
faith. It was possible, however, to find evidence supporting or confuting his
story. I chanced to be acquainted with a family, by name Althorpe, who
were natives of that part of the country where his father resided. I
paid them a visit, and, after a few preliminaries, mentioned, as if by
accident, the name of Mervyn. They immediately recognised this name as
belonging to one of their ancient neighbours. The death of the wife and
sons, and the seduction of the only daughter by Colvill, with many
pathetic incidents connected with the fate of this daughter, were
mentioned. This intelligence induced me to inquire of Mrs. Althorpe, a sensible and
candid woman, if she were acquainted with the recent or present
situation of this family. "I cannot say much," she answered, "of my own knowledge. Since my
marriage, I am used to spend a few weeks of summer at my father's, but
am less inquisitive than I once was into the concerns of my old
neighbours. I recollect, however, when there, last year, during _the
fever_, to have heard that Sawny Mervyn had taken a second wife; that
his only son, a youth of eighteen, had thought proper to be highly
offended with his father's conduct, and treated the new mistress of the
house with insult and contempt. I should not much wonder at this, seeing
children are so apt to deem themselves unjustly treated by a second
marriage of their parent; but it was hinted that the boy's jealousy and
discontent were excited by no common cause. The new mother was not much
older than himself, had been a servant of the family, and a criminal
intimacy had subsisted between her, while in that condition, and the
son. Her marriage with his father was justly accounted by their
neighbours a most profligate and odious transaction. The son, perhaps,
had, in such a case, a right to scold, but he ought not to have carried
his anger to such extremes as have been imputed to him. He is said to
have grinned upon her with contempt, and even to have called her
_strumpet_ in the presence of his father and of strangers. "It was impossible for such a family to keep together. Arthur took leave
one night to possess himself of all his father's cash, mount the best
horse in his meadow, and elope. For a time, no one knew whither he had
gone. At last, one was said to have met with him in the streets of this
city, metamorphosed from a rustic lad into a fine gentleman. Nothing
could be quicker than this change, for he left the country on a Saturday
morning, and was seen in a French frock and silk stockings, going into
Christ's Church the next day. I suppose he kept it up with a high hand,
as long as his money lasted. "My lather paid us a visit last week, and, among other country-news,
told us that Sawny Mervyn had sold his place. His wife had persuaded him
to try his fortune in the Western country. The price of his hundred
acres here would purchase a thousand there, and the man, being very
gross and ignorant, and, withal, quite a simpleton, found no difficulty
in perceiving that a thousand are ten times more than a hundred. He was
not aware that a rood of ground upon Schuylkill is tenfold better than
an acre on the Tennessee. "The woman turned out to be an artful profligate. Having sold his ground
and gotten his money, he placed it in her keeping, and she, to enjoy it
with the more security, ran away to the city; leaving him to prosecute
his journey to Kentucky moneyless and alone. Some time after, Mr.
Althorpe and I were at the play, when he pointed out to me a group of
females in an upper box, one of whom was no other than Betty Lawrence.