This person was
aged, but seemed to have lost neither cheerfulness nor vigour. He had an
air of intrepidity and calmness. It soon appeared that I was the object
of his curiosity. He had, probably, marked my deportment through some
window of his dwelling, and had come forth to make inquiries into the
motives of my conduct. He courteously saluted me. "You seem," said he, "to be in search of some
one. If I can afford you the information you want, you will be welcome
to it." Encouraged by this address, I mentioned the name of Thetford; and added
my fears that he had not escaped the general calamity. "It is true," said he. "Yesterday himself, his wife, and his child, were
in a hopeless condition. I saw them in the evening, and expected not to
find them alive this morning. As soon as it was light, however, I
visited the house again; but found it empty. I suppose they must have
died, and been removed in the night." Though anxious to ascertain the destiny of Wallace, I was unwilling to
put direct questions. I shuddered, while I longed to know the truth. "Why," said I, falteringly, "did he not seasonably withdraw from the
city? Surely he had the means of purchasing an asylum in the country." "I can scarcely tell you," he answered. "Some infatuation appeared to
have seized him. No one was more timorous; but he seemed to think
himself safe as long as he avoided contact with infected persons. He was
likewise, I believe, detained by a regard to his interest. His flight
would not have been more injurious to his affairs than it was to those
of others; but gain was, in his eyes, the supreme good. He intended
ultimately to withdraw; but his escape to-day, gave him new courage to
encounter the perils of to-morrow. He deferred his departure from day to
day, till it ceased to be practicable." "His family," said I, "was numerous. It consisted of more than his wife
and children. Perhaps these retired in sufficient season." "Yes," said he; "his father left the house at an early period. One or
two of the servants likewise forsook him. One girl, more faithful and
heroic than the rest, resisted the remonstrances of her parents and
friends, and resolved to adhere to him in every fortune. She was anxious
that the family should fly from danger, and would willingly have fled in
their company; but while they stayed, it was her immovable resolution
not to abandon them. "Alas, poor girl! She knew not of what stuff the heart of Thetford was
made. Unhappily, she was the first to become sick. I question much
whether her disease was pestilential. It was, probably, a slight
indisposition, which, in a few days, would have vanished of itself, or
have readily yielded to suitable treatment. "Thetford was transfixed with terror. Instead of summoning a physician,
to ascertain the nature of her symptoms, he called a negro and his cart
from Bush Hill. In vain the neighbours interceded for this unhappy
victim. In vain she implored his clemency, and asserted the lightness of
her indisposition. She besought him to allow her to send to her mother,
who resided a few miles in the country, who would hasten to her succour,
and relieve him and his family from the danger and trouble of nursing
her. "The man was lunatic with apprehension. He rejected her entreaties,
though urged in a manner that would have subdued a heart of flint. The
girl was innocent, and amiable, and courageous, but entertained an
unconquerable dread of the hospital. Finding entreaties ineffectual, she
exerted all her strength in opposition to the man who lifted her into
the cart. "Finding that her struggles availed nothing, she resigned herself to
despair. In going to the hospital, she believed herself led to certain
death, and to the sufferance of every evil which the known inhumanity of
its attendants could inflict. This state of mind, added to exposure to a
noonday sun, in an open vehicle, moving, for a mile, over a rugged
pavement, was sufficient to destroy her. I was not surprised to hear
that she died the next day. "This proceeding was sufficiently iniquitous; yet it was not the worst
act of this man. The rank and education of the young woman might be some
apology for negligence; but his clerk, a youth who seemed to enjoy his
confidence, and to be treated by his family on the footing of a brother
or son, fell sick on the next night, and was treated in the same
manner." These tidings struck me to the heart. A burst of indignation and sorrow
filled my eyes. I could scarcely stifle my emotions sufficiently to ask,
"Of whom, sir, do you speak? Was the name of the youth--his
name--was----"

"His name was Wallace. I see that you have some interest in his fate. He
was one whom I loved. I would have given half my fortune to procure him
accommodation under some hospitable roof. His attack was violent; but,
still, his recovery, if he had been suitably attended, was possible. That he should survive removal to the hospital, and the treatment he
must receive when there, was not to be hoped. "The conduct of Thetford was as absurd as it was wicked. To imagine the
disease to be contagious was the height of folly; to suppose himself
secure, merely by not permitting a sick man to remain under his roof,
was no less stupid; but Thetford's fears had subverted his
understanding. He did not listen to arguments or supplications. His
attention was incapable of straying from one object. To influence him by
words was equivalent to reasoning with the deaf. "Perhaps the wretch was more to be pitied than hated. The victims of his
implacable caution could scarcely have endured agonies greater than
those which his pusillanimity inflicted on himself. Whatever be the
amount of his guilt, the retribution has been adequate. He witnessed the
death of his wife and child, and last night was the close of his own
existence. Their sole attendant was a black woman; whom, by frequent
visits, I endeavoured, with little success, to make diligent in the
performance of her duty." Such, then, was the catastrophe of Wallace. The end for which I
journeyed hither was accomplished. His destiny was ascertained; and all
that remained was to fulfil the gloomy predictions of the lovely but
unhappy Susan. To tell them all the truth would be needlessly to
exasperate her sorrow. Time, aided by the tenderness and sympathy of
friendship, may banish her despair, and relieve her from all but the
witcheries of melancholy. Having disengaged my mind from these reflections, I explained to my
companion, in general terms, my reasons for visiting the city, and my
curiosity respecting. Thetford. He inquired into the particulars of my
journey, and the time of my arrival. When informed that I had come in
the preceding evening, and had passed the subsequent hours without sleep
or food, he expressed astonishment and compassion. "Your undertaking," said he, "has certainly been hazardous. There is
poison in every breath which you draw, but this hazard has been greatly
increased by abstaining from food and sleep.