Yet, in justice to the living, I must tell you something. My
woes and my crimes will be buried with me. Some of them, but not all. "Ere this, I should have been many leagues upon the ocean, had not a
newspaper fallen into my hands while on the eve of embarkation. By that
I learned that a treasure was buried with the remains of the ill-fated
Watson. I was destitute. I was unjust enough to wish to make this
treasure my own. Prone to think I was forgotten, or numbered with the
victims of pestilence, I ventured to return under a careless disguise. I
penetrated to the vaults of that deserted dwelling by night. I dug up
the bones of my friend, and found the girdle and its valuable contents,
according to the accurate description that I had read. "I hastened back with my prize to Baltimore, but my evil destiny
overtook me at last. I was recognised by emissaries of Jamieson,
arrested and brought hither, and here shall I consummate my fate and
defeat the rage of my creditors by death. But first----"

Here Welbeck stretched out his left hand to Mervyn, and, after some
reluctance, showed a roll of lead. "Receive this," said he. "In the use of it, be guided by your honesty
and by the same advertisement that furnished me the clue by which to
recover it. That being secured, the world and I will part forever. Withdraw, for your presence can help me nothing." We were unwilling to comply with his injunction, and continued some
longer time in his chamber; but our kind intent availed nothing. He
quickly relapsed into insensibility, from which he recovered not again,
but next day expired. Such, in the flower of his age, was the fate of
Thomas Welbeck. Whatever interest I might feel in accompanying the progress of my young
friend, a sudden and unforeseen emergency compelled me again to leave
the city. A kinsman, to whom I was bound by many obligations, was
suffering a lingering disease, and, imagining, with some reason, his
dissolution to be not far distant, he besought my company and my
assistance, to soothe, at least, the agonies of his last hour. I was
anxious to clear up the mysteries which Arthur's conduct had produced,
and to shield him, if possible, from the evils which I feared awaited
him. It was impossible, however, to decline the invitation of my
kinsman, as his residence was not a day's journey from the city. I was
obliged to content myself with occasional information, imparted by
Mervyn's letters or those of my wife. Meanwhile, on leaving the prison, I hasted to inform Mervyn of the true
nature of the scene which had just passed. By this extraordinary
occurrence, the property of the Maurices was now in honest hands. Welbeck, stimulated by selfish motives, had done that which any other
person would have found encompassed with formidable dangers and
difficulties. How this attempt was suggested or executed, he had not
informed us, nor was it desirable to know. It was sufficient that the
means of restoring their own to a destitute and meritorious family were
now in our possession. Having returned home, I unfolded to Mervyn all the particulars
respecting Williams and the Maurices which I had lately learned from
Wortley. He listened with deep attention, and, my story being finished,
he said, "In this small compass, then, is the patrimony and subsistence
of a numerous family. To restore it to them is the obvious
proceeding--but how? Where do they abide?" "Williams and Watson's wife live in Baltimore, and the Maurices live
near that town. The advertisements alluded to by Wortley, and which are
to be found in any newspaper, will inform us; but, first, are we sure
that any or all of these bills are contained in this covering?" The lead was now unrolled, and the bills which Williams had described
were found enclosed. Nothing appeared to be deficient. Of this, however,
we were scarcely qualified to judge. Those that were the property of
Williams might not be entire, and what would be the consequence of
presenting them to him, if any had been embezzled by Welbeck? This difficulty was obviated by Mervyn, who observed that the
advertisement describing these bills would afford us ample information
on this head. "Having found out where the Maurices and Mrs. Watson live,
nothing remains but to visit them, and put an end, as far as lies in my
power, to their inquietudes." "What! Would you go to Baltimore?" "Certainly. Can any other expedient be proper? How shall I otherwise
insure the safe conveyance of these papers?" "You may send them by post." "But why not go myself?" "I can hardly tell, unless your appearance on such an errand may be
suspected likely to involve you in embarrassments." "What embarrassments? If they receive their own, ought they not to be
satisfied?" "The inquiry will naturally be made as to the manner of gaining
possession of these papers. They were lately in the hands of Watson, but
Watson has disappeared. Suspicions are awake respecting the cause of his
disappearance. These suspicions are connected with Welbeck, and
Welbeck's connection with you is not unknown." "These are evils, but I see not how an ingenious and open conduct is
adapted to increase these evils. If they come, I must endure them." "I believe your decision is right. No one is so skilful an advocate in a
cause, as he whose cause it is. I rely upon your skill and address, and
shall leave you to pursue your own way. I must leave you for a time, but
shall expect to be punctually informed of all that passes." With this
agreement we parted, and I hastened to perform my intended journey. CHAPTER XXXIX. I am glad, my friend, thy nimble pen has got so far upon its journey. What remains of my story may be despatched in a trice. I have just now
some vacant hours, which might possibly be more usefully employed, but
not in an easier manner or more pleasant. So, let me carry on thy
thread. First, let me mention the resolutions I had formed at the time I parted
with my friend. I had several objects in view. One was a conference with
Mrs. Wentworth; another was an interview with her whom I met with at
Villars's. My heart melted when I thought upon the desolate condition of
Clemenza, and determined me to direct my first efforts for her relief. For this end I was to visit the female who had given me a direction to
her house. The name of this person is Achsa Fielding, and she lived,
according to her own direction, at No. 40 Walnut Street. I went thither without delay. She was not at home. Having gained
information from the servant as to when she might be found, I proceeded
to Mrs. Wentworth's. In going thither my mind was deeply occupied in
meditation; and, with my usual carelessness of forms, I entered the
house and made my way to the parlour, where an interview had formerly
taken place between us. Having arrived, I began, though somewhat unseasonably, to reflect upon
the topics with which I should introduce my conversation, and
particularly the manner in which I should introduce myself.