She was accustomed to shrink from
observation, and reserve was mistaken for timidity. I called on Carlton
only when numerous engagements would allow, and when, by some accident,
his customary visits had been intermitted. On those occasions, my stay
was short, and my attention chiefly confined to her brother. I now
resolved to atone for my ancient negligence, not only by my own
assiduities, but by those of my wife. On my return home, I found Mervyn and my wife in earnest discourse. I
anticipated the shock which the sensibility of the latter would receive
from the tidings which I had to communicate respecting Carlton. I was
unwilling, and yet perceived the necessity of disclosing the truth. I
desired to bring these women, as soon as possible, to the knowledge of
each other, but the necessary prelude to this was an acquaintance with
the disaster that had happened. Scarcely had I entered the room, when Mervyn turned to me, and said,
with an air of anxiety and impatience, "Pray, my friend, have you any
knowledge of Francis Carlton?" The mention of this name by Mervyn produced some surprise. I
acknowledged my acquaintance with him. "Do you know in what situation he now is?" In answer to this question, I stated by what singular means his
situation had been made known to me, and the purpose from the
accomplishment of which I had just returned. I inquired in my turn,
"Whence originated this question?" He had overheard the name of Carlton in the prison. Two persons were
communing in a corner, and accident enabled him to catch this name,
though uttered by them in a half whisper, and to discover that the
person talked about had lately been conveyed thither. This name was not now heard for the first time. It was connected with
remembrances that made him anxious for the fate of him to whom it
belonged. In discourse with my wife, this name chanced to be again
mentioned, and his curiosity was roused afresh. I was willing to
communicate all that I knew, but Mervyn's own destiny was too remarkable
not to absorb all my attention, and I refused to discuss any other theme
till that were fully explained. He postponed his own gratification to
mine, and consented to relate the incidents that had happened from the
moment of our separation till the present. CHAPTER XXIX. At parting with you, my purpose was to reach the abode of the Hadwins as
speedily as possible. I travelled therefore with diligence. Setting out
so early, I expected, though on foot, to reach the end of my journey
before noon. The activity of muscles is no obstacle to thought. So far
from being inconsistent with intense musing, it is, in my own case,
propitious to that state of mind. Probably no one had stronger motives for ardent meditation than I. My
second journey to the city was prompted by reasons, and attended by
incidents, that seemed to have a present existence. To think upon them
was to view, more deliberately and thoroughly, objects and persons that
still hovered in my sight. Instead of their attributes being already
seen, and their consequences at an end, it seemed as if a series of
numerous years and unintermitted contemplation were requisite to
comprehend them fully, and bring into existence their most momentous
effects. If men be chiefly distinguished from each other by the modes in which
attention is employed, either on external and sensible objects, or
merely on abstract ideas and the creatures of reflection, I may justly
claim to be enrolled in the second class. My existence is a series of
thoughts rather than of motions. Ratiocination and deduction leave my
senses unemployed. The fulness of my fancy renders my eye vacant and
inactive. Sensations do not precede and suggest, but follow and are
secondary to, the acts of my mind. There was one motive, however, which made me less inattentive to the
scene that was continually shifting before and without me than I am
wont to be. The loveliest form which I had hitherto seen was that of
Clemenza Lodi. I recalled her condition as I had witnessed it, as
Welbeck had described, and as you had painted it. The past was without
remedy; but the future was, in some degree, within our power to create
and to fashion. Her state was probably dangerous. She might already be
forlorn, beset with temptation or with anguish; or danger might only be
approaching her, and the worst evils be impending ones. I was ignorant of her state. Could I not remove this ignorance? Would
not some benefit redound to her from beneficent and seasonable
interposition? You had mentioned that her abode had lately been with Mrs. Villars, and
that this lady still resided in the country. The residence had been
sufficiently described, and I perceived that I was now approaching it. In a short time I spied its painted roof and five chimneys through an
avenue of _catalpas_. When opposite the gate which led into this avenue, I paused. It seemed
as if this moment were to decide upon the liberty and innocence of this
being. In a moment I might place myself before her, ascertain her true
condition, and point out to her the path of honour and safety. This
opportunity might be the last. Longer delay might render interposition
fruitless. But how was I to interpose? I was a stranger to her language, and she
was unacquainted with mine. To obtain access to her, it was necessary
only to demand it. But how should I explain my views and state my wishes
when an interview was gained? And what expedient was it in my power to
propose? "Now," said I, "I perceive the value of that wealth which I have been
accustomed to despise. The power of eating and drinking, the nature and
limits of existence and physical enjoyment, are not changed or enlarged
by the increase of wealth. Our corporeal and intellectual wants are
supplied at little expense; but our own wants are the wants of others,
and that which remains, after our own necessities are obviated, it is
always easy and just to employ in relieving the necessities of others. "There are no superfluities in my store. It is not in my power to supply
this unfortunate girl with decent raiment and honest bread. I have no
house to which to conduct her. I have no means of securing her from
famine and cold. "Yet, though indigent and feeble, I am not destitute of friends and of
home. Cannot she be admitted to the same asylum to which I am now
going?" This thought was sudden and new. The more it was revolved, the
more plausible it seemed. This was not merely the sole expedient, but
the best that could have been suggested. The Hadwins were friendly, hospitable, unsuspicious. Their board, though
simple and uncouth, was wholesome and plenteous. Their residence was
sequestered and obscure, and not obnoxious to impertinent inquiries and
malignant animadversion. Their frank and ingenuous temper would make
them easy of persuasion, and their sympathies were prompt and
overflowing. "I am nearly certain," continued I, "that they will instantly afford
protection to this desolate girl.