Perhaps the city will be as suitable a residence as any other
for you, as it will, for some time, be most convenient to me. I shall be
better able to watch over your welfare, and supply you with the means of
improvement, when you are within a small distance. At present, you must
consent to remain here, while I visit your uncle, and afterwards go to
the city. I shall look out for you a suitable lodging, and inform you
when it is found. If you then continue in the same mind, I will come,
and, having gained the approbation of Mr. Curling, will conduct you to
town." Here ended our dialogue. CHAPTER XXXIII. Though I had consented to this scheme, I was conscious that some hazards
attended it. I was afraid of calumny, which might trouble the peace or
destroy the reputation of my friend. I was afraid of my own weakness,
which might be seduced into an indiscreet marriage by the charms or
sufferings of this bewitching creature. I felt that there was no price
too dear to save her from slander. A fair fame is of the highest
importance to a young female, and the loss of it but poorly supplied by
the testimony of her own conscience. I had reason for tenfold solicitude
on this account, since I was her only protector and friend. Hence, I
cherished some hopes that time might change her views, and suggest less
dangerous schemes. Meanwhile, I was to lose no time in visiting
Malverton and Philip Hadwin. About ten days had elapsed since we had deserted Malverton. These were
days of successive storms, and travelling had been rendered
inconvenient. The weather was now calm and clear, and, early in the
morning that ensued the dialogue which I have just related, I set out on
horseback. Honest Caleb was found eating his breakfast nearly in the spot where he
had been first discovered. He answered my inquiries by saying, that, two
days after our departure, several men had come to the house, one of whom
was Philip Hadwin. They had interrogated him as to the condition of the
farm, and the purpose of his remaining on it. William Hadwin they knew
to have been some time dead; but where were the girls, his daughters? Caleb answered that Susy, the eldest, was likewise dead. These tidings excited astonishment. When died she, and how, and where
was she buried? It happened two days before, and she was buried, he believed, but could
not tell where. Not tell where? By whom, then, was she buried? Really, he could not tell. Some strange man came there just as she was
dying. He went to the room, and, when she was dead, took her away, but
what he did with the body was more than he could say, but he had a
notion that he buried it. The man stayed till the morning, and then went
off with Lizzy, leaving him to keep house by himself. He had not seen
either of them, nor, indeed, a single soul since. This was all the information that Caleb could afford the visitants. It
was so lame and incredible that they began to charge the man with
falsehood, and to threaten him with legal animadversion. Just then Mr.
Ellis entered the house, and, being made acquainted with the subject of
discourse, told all that he himself knew. He related the midnight visit
which I had paid him, explained my former situation in the family, and
my disappearance in September. He stated the advice he had given me to
carry Eliza to her uncle's, and my promise to comply with his counsel. The uncle declared he had seen nothing of his niece, and Caleb added,
that, when she set out, she took the road that led to town. These hints afforded grounds for much conjecture and suspicion. Ellis
now mentioned some intelligence that he had gathered respecting me in a
late journey to ----. It seems I was the son of an honest farmer in that
quarter, who married a tidy girl of a milkmaid that lived with him. My
father had detected me in making some atrocious advances to my
mother-in-law, and had turned me out of doors. I did not go off,
however, without rifling his drawer of some hundreds of dollars, which
he had laid up against a rainy day. I was noted for such pranks, and was
hated by all the neighbours for my pride and laziness. It was easy, by
comparison of circumstances, for Ellis to ascertain that Hadwin's
servant Mervyn was the same against whom such heavy charges were laid. Previously to this journey, he had heard of me from Hadwin, who was loud
in praise of my diligence, sobriety, and modesty. For his part, he had
always been cautious of giving countenance to vagrants that came from
nobody knew where, and worked their way with a plausible tongue. He was
not surprised to hear it whispered that Betsy Hadwin had fallen in love
with the youth, and now, no doubt, he had persuaded her to run away with
him. The heiress of a fine farm was a prize not to be met with every
day. Philip broke into rage at this news; swore that if it turned out so, his
niece should starve upon the town, and that he would take good care to
balk the lad. His brother he well knew had left a will, to which he was
executor, and that this will would in good time be forthcoming. After
much talk and ransacking the house, and swearing at his truant niece, he
and his company departed, charging Caleb to keep the house and its
contents for his use. This was all that Caleb's memory had retained of
that day's proceedings. Curling had lately commented on the character of Philip Hadwin. This man
was totally unlike his brother, was a noted brawler and bully, a tyrant
to his children, a plague to his neighbours, and kept a rendezvous for
drunkards and idlers, at the sign of the Bull's Head, at ----. He was
not destitute of parts, and was no less dreaded for cunning than
malignity. He was covetous, and never missed an opportunity of
overreaching his neighbour. There was no doubt that his niece's property
would be embezzled should it ever come into his hands, and any power
which he might obtain over her person would be exercised to her
destruction. His children were tainted with the dissoluteness of their
father, and marriage had not repaired the reputation of his daughters,
or cured them of depravity: this was the man whom I now proposed to
visit. I scarcely need to say that the calumny of Betty Lawrence gave me no
uneasiness. My father had no doubt been deceived, as well as my father's
neighbours, by the artifices of this woman. I passed among them for a
thief and a profligate, but their error had hitherto been harmless to
me. The time might come which should confute the tale without my
efforts. Betty, sooner or later, would drop her mask, and afford the
antidote to her own poisons, unless some new incident should occur to
make me hasten the catastrophe. I arrived at Hadwin's house. I was received with some attention as a
guest. I looked, among the pimpled visages that filled the piazza, for
that of the landlord, but found him in an inner apartment with two or
three more seated round a table. On intimating my wish to speak with him
alone, the others withdrew.