The
folly of opposition, when my feebleness and loneliness were contrasted
with his activity and resources, appeared to him monstrous and glaring;
but his contempt was converted into rage and fear when he reflected
that this folly might finally defeat his hopes. He had probably
determined to obtain the money, let the purchase cost what it would, but
was willing to exhaust pacific expedients before he should resort to
force. He might likewise question whether the money was within his
reach. I had told him that I had it, but whether it was now about me was
somewhat dubious; yet, though he used no direct inquiries, he chose to
proceed on the supposition of its being at hand. His angry tones were
now changed into those of remonstrance and persuasion:--

"Your present behaviour, Mervyn, does not justify the expectation I had
formed of you. You have been guilty of a base theft. To this you have
added the deeper crime of ingratitude, but your infatuation and folly
are, at least, as glaring as your guilt. Do you think I can credit your
assertions that you keep this money for another, when I recollect that
six weeks have passed since you carried it off? Why have you not sought
the owner and restored it to her? If your intentions had been honest,
would you have suffered so long a time to elapse without doing this? It
is plain that you designed to keep it for your own use. "But, whether this were your purpose or not, you have no longer power to
restore it or retain it. You say that you came hither to die. If so,
what is to be the fate of the money? In your present situation you
cannot gain access to the lady. Some other must inherit this wealth. Next to _Signora Lodi_, whose right can be put in competition with mine? But, if you will not give it to me on my own account, let it be given in
trust for her. Let me be the bearer of it to her own hands. I have
already shown you that my claim to it, as her guardian, is legal and
incontrovertible, but this claim I waive. I will merely be the executor
of your will. I will bind myself to comply with your directions by any
oath, however solemn and tremendous, which you shall prescribe." As long as my own heart acquitted me, these imputations of dishonesty
affected me but little. They excited no anger, because they originated
in ignorance, and were rendered plausible to Welbeck by such facts as
were known to him. It was needless to confute the charge by elaborate
and circumstantial details. It was true that my recovery was, in the highest degree, improbable, and
that my death would put an end to my power over this money; but had I
not determined to secure its useful application in case of my death? This project was obstructed by the presence of Welbeck; but I hoped that
his love of life would induce him to fly. He might wrest this volume
from me by violence, or he might wait till my death should give him
peaceable possession. But these, though probable events, were not
certain, and would, by no means, justify the voluntary surrender. His
strength, if employed for this end, could not be resisted; but then it
would be a sacrifice, not a choice, but necessity. Promises were easily given, but were surely not to be confided in. Welbeck's own tale, in which it could not be imagined that he had
aggravated his defects, attested the frailty of his virtue. To put into
his hands a sum like this, in expectation of his delivering it to
another, when my death would cover the transaction with impenetrable
secrecy, would be, indeed, a proof of that infatuation which he thought
proper to impute to me. These thoughts influenced my resolutions, but they were revolved in
silence. To state them verbally was useless. They would not justify my
conduct in his eyes. They would only exasperate dispute, and impel him
to those acts of violence which I was desirous of preventing. The sooner
this controversy should end, and I in any measure be freed from the
obstruction of his company, the better. "Mr. Welbeck," said I, "my regard to your safety compels me to wish that
this interview should terminate. At a different time, I should not be
unwilling to discuss this matter. Now it will be fruitless. My
conscience points out to me too clearly the path I should pursue for me
to mistake it. As long as I have power over this money, I shall keep it
for the use of the unfortunate lady whom I have seen in this house. I
shall exert myself to find her; but, if that be impossible, I shall
appropriate it in a way in which you shall have no participation." I will not repeat the contest that succeeded between my forbearance and
his passions. I listened to the dictates of his rage and his avarice in
silence. Astonishment at my inflexibility was blended with his anger. By
turns he commented on the guilt and on the folly of my resolutions. Sometimes his emotions would mount into fury, and he would approach me
in a menacing attitude, and lift his hand as if he would exterminate me
at a blow. My languid eyes, my cheeks glowing and my temples throbbing
with fever, and my total passiveness, attracted his attention and
arrested his stroke. Compassion would take the place of rage, and the
belief be revived that remonstrances and arguments would answer his
purpose. CHAPTER XXIII. This scene lasted I know not how long. Insensibly the passions and
reasonings of Welbeck assumed a new form. A grief, mingled with
perplexity, overspread his countenance. He ceased to contend or to
speak. His regards were withdrawn from me, on whom they had hitherto
been fixed; and, wandering or vacant, testified a conflict of mind
terrible beyond any that my young imagination had ever conceived. For a time he appeared to be unconscious of my presence. He moved to and
fro with unequal steps, and with gesticulations that possessed a
horrible but indistinct significance. Occasionally he struggled for
breath, and his efforts were directed to remove some choking impediment. No test of my fortitude had hitherto occurred equal to that to which it
was now subjected. The suspicion which this deportment suggested was
vague and formless. The tempest which I witnessed was the prelude of
horror. These were throes which would terminate in the birth of some
gigantic and sanguinary purpose. Did he meditate to offer a bloody
sacrifice? Was his own death or was mine to attest the magnitude of his
despair or the impetuosity of his vengeance? Suicide was familiar to his thoughts. He had consented to live but on
one condition; that of regaining possession of this money. Should I be
justified in driving him, by my obstinate refusal, to this fatal
consummation of his crimes? Yet my fear of this catastrophe was
groundless. Hitherto he had argued and persuaded; but this method was
pursued because it was more eligible than the employment of force, or
than procrastination. No. These were tokens that pointed to me. Some unknown instigation was
at work within him, to tear away his remnant of humanity and fit him for
the office of my murderer.