It was a topic of some
surprise that neither Wallace nor Hadwin had returned to the city, with
a view to obtain some tidings of their friend. It was more easy to
suppose them to have been detained by some misfortune, than by
insensibility or indolence. In a few minutes Mervyn bade us adieu, and
set out upon his journey, promising to acquaint us with the state of
affairs as soon as possible after his arrival. We parted from him with
reluctance, and found no consolation but in the prospect of his speedy
return. During his absence, conversation naturally turned upon those topics
which were suggested by the narrative and deportment of this youth. Different conclusions were formed by his two auditors. They had both
contracted a deep interest in his welfare, and an ardent curiosity as to
those particulars which his unfinished story had left in obscurity. The
true character and actual condition of Welbeck were themes of much
speculation. Whether he were dead or alive, near or distant from his
ancient abode, was a point on which neither Mervyn, nor any of those
with whom I had means of intercourse, afforded any information. Whether
he had shared the common fate, and had been carried by the collectors of
the dead from the highway or the hovel to the pits opened alike for the
rich and the poor, the known and the unknown; whether he had escaped to
a foreign shore, or were destined to reappear upon this stage, were
questions involved in uncertainty. The disappearance of Watson would, at a different time, have excited
much inquiry and suspicion; but, as this had taken place on the eve of
the epidemic, his kindred and friends would acquiesce, without scruple,
in the belief that he had been involved in the general calamity, and was
to be numbered among the earliest victims. Those of his profession
usually resided in the street where the infection began, and where its
ravages had been most destructive; and this circumstance would
corroborate the conclusions of his friends. I did not perceive any immediate advantage to flow from imparting the
knowledge I had lately gained to others. Shortly after Mervyn's
departure to Malverton, I was visited by Wortley. Inquiring for my
guest, I told him that, having recovered his health, he had left my
house. He repeated his invectives against the villany of Welbeck, his
suspicions of Mervyn, and his wishes for another interview with the
youth. Why had I suffered him to depart, and whither had he gone? "He has gone for a short time into the country. I expect him to return
in less than a week, when you will meet with him here as often as you
please, for I expect him to take up his abode in this house." Much astonishment and disapprobation were expressed by my friend. I
hinted that the lad had made disclosures to me, which justified my
confidence in his integrity. These proofs of his honesty were not of a
nature to be indiscriminately unfolded. Mervyn had authorized me to
communicate so much of his story to Wortley, as would serve to vindicate
him from the charge of being Welbeck's co-partner in fraud; but this end
would only be counteracted by an imperfect tale, and the full recital,
though it might exculpate Mervyn, might produce inconveniences by which
this advantage would be outweighed. Wortley, as might be naturally expected, was by no means satisfied with
this statement. He suspected that Mervyn was a wily impostor; that he
had been trained in the arts of fraud, under an accomplished teacher;
that the tale which he had told to me was a tissue of ingenious and
plausible lies; that the mere assertions, however plausible and solemn,
of one like him, whose conduct had incurred such strong suspicions, were
unworthy of the least credit. "It cannot be denied," continued my friend, "that he lived with Welbeck
at the time of his elopement; that they disappeared together; that they
entered a boat, at Pine Street wharf, at midnight; that this boat was
discovered by the owner in the possession of a fisherman at Redbank, who
affirmed that he had found it stranded near his door, the day succeeding
that on which they disappeared. Of all this I can supply you with
incontestable proof. If, after this proof, you can give credit to his
story, I shall think you made of very perverse and credulous materials." "The proof you mention," said I, "will only enhance his credibility. All
the facts which you have stated have been admitted by him. They
constitute an essential portion of his narrative." "What then is the inference? Are not these evidences of a compact
between them? Has he not acknowledged this compact in confessing that he
knew Welbeck was my debtor; that he was apprized of his flight, but that
(what matchless effrontery!) he had promised secrecy, and would, by no
means, betray him? You say he means to return; but of that I doubt. You
will never see his face more. He is too wise to thrust himself again
into the noose; but I do not utterly despair of lighting upon Welbeck. Old Thetford, Jamieson, and I, have sworn to hunt him through the world. I have strong hopes that he has not strayed far. Some intelligence has
lately been received, which has enabled us to place our hounds upon his
scent. He may double and skulk; but, if he does not fall into our toils
at last, he will have the agility and cunning, as well as the malignity,
of devils." The vengeful disposition thus betrayed by Wortley was not without
excuse. The vigour of his days had been spent in acquiring a slender
capital; his diligence and honesty had succeeded, and he had lately
thought his situation such as to justify marriage with an excellent
woman, to whom he had for years been betrothed, but from whom his
poverty had hitherto compelled him to live separate. Scarcely had this
alliance taken place, and the full career of nuptial enjoyments begun,
when his ill fate exposed him to the frauds of Welbeck, and brought him,
in one evil hour, to the brink of insolvency. Jamieson and Thetford, however, were rich, and I had not till now been
informed that they had reasons for pursuing Welbeck with peculiar
animosity. The latter was the uncle of him whose fate had been related
by Mervyn, and was one of those who employed money, not as the medium of
traffic, but as in itself a commodity. He had neither wines nor cloths,
to transmute into silver. He thought it a tedious process to exchange
to-day one hundred dollars for a cask or bale, and to-morrow exchange
the bale or cask for one hundred _and ten_ dollars. It was better to
give the hundred for a piece of paper, which, carried forthwith to the
money-changers, he could procure a hundred twenty-three and
three-fourths. In short, this man's coffers were supplied by the despair
of honest men and the stratagems of rogues. I did not immediately
suspect how this man's prudence and indefatigable attention to his own
interest should allow him to become the dupe of Welbeck. "What," said I, "is old Thetford's claim upon Welbeck?"