I conceived that to leave any thing
undone, with regard to Wallace, would be absurd. His property might be
put under the care of my new friend. But how was it to be distinguished
from the property of others? It was, probably, contained in trunks,
which were designated by some label or mark. I was unacquainted with his
chamber, but, by passing from one to the other, I might finally discover
it. Some token, directing my footsteps, might occur, though at present
unforeseen. Actuated by these considerations, I once more entered Thetford's
habitation. I regretted that I had not procured the counsel or
attendance of my new friend; but some engagements, the nature of which
he did not explain, occasioned him to leave me as soon as breakfast was
finished. CHAPTER XVIII. I wandered over this deserted mansion, in a considerable degree, at
random. Effluvia of a pestilential nature assailed me from every corner. In the front room of the second story, I imagined that I discovered
vestiges of that catastrophe which the past night had produced. The bed
appeared as if some one had recently been dragged from it. The sheets
were tinged with yellow, and with that substance which is said to be
characteristic of this disease, the gangrenous or black vomit. The floor
exhibited similar stains. There are many who will regard my conduct as the last refinement of
temerity, or of heroism. Nothing, indeed, more perplexes me than a
review of my own conduct. Not, indeed, that death is an object always to
be dreaded, or that my motive did not justify my actions; but of all
dangers, those allied to pestilence, by being mysterious and unseen, are
the most formidable. To disarm them of their terrors requires the
longest familiarity. Nurses and physicians soonest become intrepid or
indifferent; but the rest of mankind recoil from the scene with
unconquerable loathing. I was sustained, not by confidence of safety, and a belief of exemption
from this malady, or by the influence of habit, which inures us to all
that is detestable or perilous, but by a belief that this was as
eligible an avenue to death as any other; and that life is a trivial
sacrifice in the cause of duty. I passed from one room to the other. A portmanteau, marked with the
initials of Wallace's name, at length attracted my notice. From this
circumstance I inferred that this apartment had been occupied by him. The room was neatly arranged, and appeared as if no one had lately used
it. There were trunks and drawers. That which I have mentioned was the
only one that bore marks of Wallace's ownership. This I lifted in my
arms with a view to remove it to Medlicote's house. At that moment, methought I heard a footstep slowly and lingeringly
ascending the stair. I was disconcerted at this incident. The footstep
had in it a ghost-like solemnity and tardiness. This phantom vanished in
a moment, and yielded place to more humble conjectures. A human being
approached, whose office and commission were inscrutable. That we were
strangers to each other was easily imagined; but how would my
appearance, in this remote chamber, and loaded with another's property,
be interpreted? Did he enter the house after me, or was he the tenant of
some chamber hitherto unvisited; whom my entrance had awakened from his
trance and called from his couch? In the confusion of my mind, I still held my burden uplifted. To have
placed it on the floor, and encountered this visitant, without this
equivocal token about me, was the obvious proceeding. Indeed, time only
could decide whether these footsteps tended to this, or to some other,
apartment. My doubts were quickly dispelled. The door opened, and a figure glided
in. The portmanteau dropped from my arms, and my heart's blood was
chilled. If an apparition of the dead were possible, (and that
possibility I could not deny,) this was such an apparition. A hue,
yellowish and livid; bones, uncovered with flesh; eyes, ghastly, hollow,
woe-begone, and fixed in an agony of wonder upon me; and locks, matted
and negligent, constituted the image which I now beheld. My belief of
somewhat preternatural in this appearance was confirmed by recollection
of resemblances between these features and those of one who was dead. In
this shape and visage, shadowy and death-like as they were, the
lineaments of Wallace, of him who had misled my rustic simplicity on my
first visit to this city, and whose death I had conceived to be
incontestably ascertained, were forcibly recognised. This recognition, which at first alarmed my superstition, speedily led
to more rational inferences. Wallace had been dragged to the hospital. Nothing was less to be suspected than that he would return alive from
that hideous receptacle, but this was by no means impossible. The figure
that stood before me had just risen from the bed of sickness, and from
the brink of the grave. The crisis of his malady had passed, and he was
once more entitled to be ranked among the living. This event, and the consequences which my imagination connected with it,
filled me with the liveliest joy. I thought not of his ignorance of the
causes of my satisfaction, of the doubts to which the circumstances of
our interview would give birth, respecting the integrity of my purpose. I forgot the artifices by which I had formerly been betrayed, and the
embarrassments which a meeting with the victim of his artifices would
excite in him; I thought only of the happiness which his recovery would
confer upon his uncle and his cousins. I advanced towards him with an air of congratulation, and offered him my
hand. He shrunk back, and exclaimed, in a feeble voice, "Who are you? What business have you here?" "I am the friend of Wallace, if he will allow me to be so. I am a
messenger from your uncle and cousins at _Malverton_. I came to know the
cause of your silence, and to afford you any assistance in my power." He continued to regard me with an air of suspicion and doubt. These I
endeavoured to remove by explaining the motives that led me hither. It
was with difficulty that he seemed to credit my representations. When
thoroughly convinced of the truth of my assertions, he inquired with
great anxiety and tenderness concerning his relations; and expressed his
hope that they were ignorant of what had befallen him. I could not encourage his hopes. I regretted my own precipitation in
adopting the belief of his death. This belief had been uttered with
confidence, and without stating my reasons for embracing it, to Mr.
Hadwin. These tidings would be borne to his daughters, and their grief
would be exasperated to a deplorable and perhaps to a fatal degree. There was but one method of repairing or eluding this mischief. Intelligence ought to be conveyed to them of his recovery. But where was
the messenger to be found? No one's attention could be found disengaged
from his own concerns. Those who were able or willing to leave the city
had sufficient motives for departure, in relation to themselves.