That he would one day reappear upon the
stage, and assume the dignity of virtue, was a source of consolation
with which she would never consent to part. Her character was now known. When the doom of exile was pronounced upon
him, she deemed it incumbent on her to vindicate herself from aspersions
founded on misconceptions of her motives in refusing her interference. The manuscript, though unpublished, was widely circulated. None could
resist her simple and touching eloquence, nor rise from the perusal
without resigning his heart to the most impetuous impulses of
admiration, and enlisting himself among the eulogists of her justice and
her fortitude. This was the only monument, in a written form, of her
genius. As such it was engraven on my memory. The picture that it
described was the perpetual companion of my thoughts. Alas! It had, perhaps, been well for me if it had been buried in eternal
oblivion. I read in it the condemnation of my deed, the agonies she was
preparing to suffer, and the indignation that would overflow upon the
author of so signal a calamity. I had rescued my life by the sacrifice of his. Whereas I should have
died. Wretched and precipitate coward! What had become of my boasted
gratitude? Such was the zeal that I had vowed to her. Such the services
which it was the business of my life to perform. I had snatched her
brother from existence. I had torn from her the hope which she so
ardently and indefatigably cherished. From a contemptible and dastardly
regard to my own safety I had failed in the moment of trial and when
called upon by Heaven to evince the sincerity of my professions. She had treated my professions lightly. My vows of eternal devotion she
had rejected with lofty disinterestedness. She had arraigned my
impatience of obligation as criminal, and condemned every scheme I had
projected for freeing myself from the burden which her beneficence had
laid upon me. The impassioned and vehement anxiety with which, in former
days, she had deprecated the vengeance of her lover against Wiatte, rung
in my ears. My senses were shocked anew by the dreadful sounds, "Touch
not my brother. Wherever you meet with him, of whatever outrage he be
guilty, suffer him to pass in safety. Despise me; abandon me; kill me. All this I can bear even from you; but spare, I implore you, my unhappy
brother. The stroke that deprives him of life will not only have the
same effect upon me, but will set my portion in everlasting misery." To these supplications I had been deaf. It is true I had not rushed upon
him unarmed, intending no injury nor expecting any. Of that degree of
wickedness I was, perhaps, incapable. Alas! I have immersed myself
sufficiently deep in crimes. I have trampled under foot every motive
dear to the heart of honour. I have shown myself unworthy the society of
men. Such were the turbulent suggestions of that moment. My pace slackened. I
stopped, and was obliged to support myself against a wall. The sickness
that had seized my heart penetrated every part of my frame. There was
but one thing wanting to complete my distraction.--"My lady," said I,
"believed her fate to be blended with that of Wiatte. Who shall affirm
that the persuasion is a groundless one? She had lived and prospered,
notwithstanding the general belief that her brother was dead. She would
not hearken to the rumour. Why? Because nothing less than indubitable
evidence would suffice to convince her? Because the counter-intimation
flowed from an infallible source? How can the latter supposition be
confuted? Has she not predicted the event? "The period of terrible fulfilment has arrived. The same blow that
bereaved _him_ of life has likewise ratified her doom. "She has been deceived. It is nothing more, perhaps, than a fond
imagination. It matters not. Who knows not the cogency of faith? That
the pulses of life are at the command of the will? The bearer of these
tidings will be the messenger of death. A fatal sympathy will seize her. She will shrink, and swoon, and perish, at the news! "Fond and short-sighted wretch! This is the price thou hast given for
security. In the rashness of thy thought, thou saidst, 'Nothing is
wanting but his death to restore us to confidence and safety.' Lo! the
purchase is made. Havoc and despair, that were restrained during his
life, were let loose by his last sigh. Now only is destruction made
sure. Thy lady, thy Clarice, thy friend, and thyself, are, by this act,
involved in irretrievable and common ruin!" I started from my attitude. I was scarcely conscious of any transition. The interval was fraught with stupor, and amazement. It seemed as if my
senses had been hushed in sleep, while the powers of locomotion were
unconsciously exerted to bear me to my chamber. By whatever means the
change was effected, there I was. I have been able to proceed thus far. I can scarcely believe the
testimony of my memory that assures me of this. My task is almost
executed; but whence shall I obtain strength enough to finish it? What I
have told is light as gossamer, compared with the insupportable and
crushing horrors of that which is to come. Heaven, in token of its
vengeance, will enable me to proceed. It is fitting that my scene should
thus close. My fancy began to be infected with the errors of my understanding. The
mood into which my mind was plunged was incapable of any propitious
intermission. All within me was tempestuous and dark. My ears were
accessible to no sounds but those of shrieks and lamentations. It was
deepest midnight, and all the noises of a great metropolis were hushed. Yet I listened as if to catch some strain of the dirge that was begun. Sable robes, sobs, and a dreary solemnity encompassed me on all sides, I
was haunted to despair by images of death, imaginary clamours, and the
train of funeral pageantry. I seemed to have passed forward to a distant
era of my life. The effects which were come were already realized. The
foresight of misery created it, and set me in the midst of that hell
which I feared. From a paroxysm like this the worst might reasonably be dreaded, yet the
next step to destruction was not suddenly taken. I paused on the brink
of the precipice, as if to survey the depth of that frenzy that invaded
me; was able to ponder on the scene, and deliberate, in a state that
partook of calm, on the circumstances of my situation. My mind was
harassed by the repetition of one idea. Conjecture deepened into
certainty. I could place the object in no light which did not
corroborate the persuasion that, in the act committed, I had insured the
destruction of my lady. At length my mind, somewhat relieved from the
tempest of my fears, began to trace and analyze the consequences which I
dreaded. The fate of Wiatte would inevitably draw along with it that of his
sister. In what way would this effect be produced? Were they linked
together by a sympathy whose influence was independent of sensible
communication?