There now ensued a conversation somewhat general, in which this young
woman showed a mind vigorous from exercise and unembarrassed by care. She affected no concealment of her own condition, of her wants, or her
comforts. She laid no stress upon misfortunes, but contrived to deduce
some beneficial consequence to herself, and some motive for gratitude to
Heaven, from every wayward incident that had befallen her. This demeanour emboldened me, at length, to inquire into the cause of
her brother's imprisonment, and the nature of his debt. She answered frankly and without hesitation:--"It is a debt of his
father's, for which he made himself responsible during his father's
life. The act was generous but imprudent, as the event has shown;
though, at the time, the unhappy effects could not be foreseen. "My father," continued she, "was arrested by his creditor, at a time
when the calmness and comforts of his own dwelling were necessary to his
health. The creditor was obdurate, and would release him upon no
condition but that of receiving a bond from my brother, by which he
engaged to pay the debt at several successive times and in small
portions. All these instalments were discharged with great difficulty
indeed, but with sufficient punctuality, except the last, to which my
brother's earnings were not adequate." "How much is the debt?" "Four hundred dollars." "And is the state of the creditor such as to make the loss of four
hundred dollars of more importance to him than the loss of liberty to
your brother?" She answered, smiling, "That is a very abstract view of things. On such
a question you and I might, perhaps, easily decide in favour of my
brother; but would there not be some danger of deciding partially? His
conduct is a proof of his decision, and there is no power to change it." "Will not argument change it? Methinks in so plain a case I should be
able to convince him. You say he is rich and childless. His annual
income is ten times more than this sum. Your brother cannot pay the debt
while in prison; whereas, if at liberty, he might slowly and finally
discharge it. If his humanity would not yield, his avarice might be
brought to acquiesce." "But there is another passion which you would find it somewhat harder to
subdue, and that is his vengeance. He thinks himself wronged, and
imprisons my brother, not to enforce payment, but to inflict misery. If
you could persuade him that there is no hardship in imprisonment, you
would speedily gain the victory; but that could not be attempted
consistently with truth. In proportion to my brother's suffering is his
gratification." "You draw an odious and almost incredible portrait." "And yet such a one would serve for the likeness of almost every second
man we meet." "And is such your opinion of mankind? Your experience must surely have
been of a rueful tenor to justify such hard thoughts of the rest of your
species." "By no means. It has been what those whose situation disables them from
looking further than the surface of things would regard as unfortunate;
but, if my goods and evils were equitably balanced, the former would be
the weightiest. I have found kindness and goodness in great numbers, but
have likewise met prejudice and rancor in many. My opinion of Farquhar
is not lightly taken up. I saw him yesterday, and the nature of his
motives in the treatment of my brother was plain enough." Here this topic was succeeded by others, and the conversation ceased not
till the hour had arrived on which I had preconcerted to visit Mrs. Fielding. I left my two friends for this purpose. I was admitted to Mrs. Fielding's presence without scruple or
difficulty. There were two females in her company, and one of the other
sex, well-dressed, elderly, and sedate persons. Their discourse turned
upon political topics, with which, as you know, I have but slight
acquaintance. They talked of fleets and armies, of Robespierre and Pitt,
of whom I had only a newspaper-knowledge. In a short time the women rose, and, huddling on their cloaks,
disappeared, in company with the gentleman. Being thus left alone with
Mrs. Fielding, some embarrassment was mutually betrayed. With much
hesitation, which, however, gradually disappeared, my companion, at
length, began the conversation:--

"You met me lately, in a situation, sir, on which I look back with
trembling and shame, but not with any self-condemnation. I was led into
it without any fault, unless a too hasty confidence may be styled a
fault. I had known Mrs. Villars in England, where she lived with an
untainted reputation, at least; and the sight of my countrywoman, in a
foreign land, awakened emotions in the indulgence of which I did not
imagine there was either any guilt or any danger. She invited me to see
her at her house with so much urgency and warmth, and solicited me to
take a place immediately in a chaise in which she had come to the city,
that I too incautiously complied. "You are a stranger to me, and I am unacquainted with your character. What little I have seen of your deportment, and what little I have
lately heard concerning you from Mrs. Wentworth, do not produce
unfavourable impressions; but the apology I have made was due to my own
reputation, and should have been offered to you whatever your character
had been." There she stopped. "I came not hither," said I, "to receive an apology. Your demeanour, on
our first interview, shielded you sufficiently from any suspicions or
surmises that I could form. What you have now mentioned was likewise
mentioned by your friend, and was fully believed upon her authority. My
purpose, in coming, related not to you, but to another. I desired merely
to interest your generosity and justice on behalf of one whose destitute
and dangerous condition may lay claim to your compassion and your
succour." "I comprehend you," said she, with an air of some perplexity. "I know
the claims of that person." "And will you comply with them?" "In what manner can I serve her?" "By giving her the means of living." "Does she not possess them already?" "She is destitute. Her dependence was wholly placed upon one that is
dead, by whom her person was dishonoured and her fortune embezzled." "But she still lives. She is not turned into the street. She is not
destitute of home." "But what a home!" "Such as she may choose to remain in." "She cannot choose it. She must not choose it. She remains through
ignorance, or through the incapacity of leaving it." "But how shall she be persuaded to a change?" "I will persuade her. I will fully explain her situation. I will supply
her with a new home." "You will persuade her to go with you, and to live at a home of your
providing and on your bounty?" "Certainly." "Would that change be worthy of a cautious person? Would it benefit her
reputation? Would it prove her love of independence?" "My purposes are good. I know not why she should suspect them. But I am
only anxious to be the instrument.