II

I will enumerate the various inquiries and conjectures which these

incidents occasioned. After all our efforts, we came no nearer to

dispelling the mist in which they were involved; and time, instead

of facilitating a solution, only accumulated our doubts.

In the midst of thoughts excited by these events, I was not

unmindful of my interview with the stranger. I related the

particulars, and showed the portrait to my friends. Pleyel

recollected to have met with a figure resembling my description in

the city; but neither his face or garb made the same impression

upon him that it made upon me. It was a hint to rally me upon my

prepossessions, and to amuse us with a thousand ludicrous anecdotes

which he had collected in his travels. He made no scruple to

charge me with being in love; and threatened to inform the swain,

when he met him, of his good fortune.

Pleyel’s temper made him susceptible of no durable impressions.

His conversation was occasionally visited by gleams of his ancient

vivacity; but, though his impetuosity was sometimes inconvenient,

there was nothing to dread from his malice. I had no fear that my

character or dignity would suffer in his hands, and was not

heartily displeased when he declared his intention of profiting by

his first meeting with the stranger to introduce him to our

acquaintance.

Some weeks after this I had spent a toilsome day, and, as the sun

declined, found myself disposed to seek relief in a walk. The

river bank is, at this part of it and for some considerable space

upward, so rugged and steep as not to be easily descended. In a

recess of this declivity, near the southern verge of my little

demesne, was placed a slight building, with seats and lattices.

From a crevice of the rock to which this edifice was attached there

burst forth a stream of the purest water, which, leaping from ledge

to ledge for the space of sixty feet, produced a freshness in the

air, and a murmur, the most delicious and soothing imaginable.

These, added to the odors of the cedars which embowered it, and of

the honeysuckle which clustered among the lattices, rendered this

my favorite retreat in summer.

On this occasion I repaired hither. My spirits drooped through the

fatigue of long attention, and I threw myself upon a bench, in a

state, both mentally and personally, of the utmost supineness. The

lulling sounds of the waterfall, the fragrance, and the dusk,

combined to becalm my spirits, and, in a short time, to sink me

into sleep. Either the uneasiness of my posture, or some slight

indisposition, molested my repose with dreams of no cheerful hue.

After various incoherences had taken their turn to occupy my fancy,

I at length imagined myself walking, in the evening twilight, to my

brother’s habitation. A pit, methought, had been dug in the path I

had taken, of which I was not aware. As I carelessly pursued my

walk, I thought I saw my brother standing at some distance before

me, beckoning and calling me to make haste. He stood on the

opposite edge of the gulf. I mended my pace, and one step more

would have plunged me into this abyss, had not some one from behind

caught suddenly my arm, and exclaimed, in a voice of eagerness and

terror, “Hold! hold!”

The sound broke my sleep, and I found myself, at the next moment,

standing on my feet, and surrounded by the deepest darkness.

Images so terrific and forcible disabled me for a time from

distinguishing between sleep and wakefulness, and withheld from me

the knowledge of my actual condition. My first panic was succeeded

by the perturbations of surprise to find myself alone in the open

air and immersed in so deep a gloom. I slowly recollected the

incidents of the afternoon, and how I came hither. I could not

estimate the time, but saw the propriety of returning with speed to

the house. My faculties were still too confused, and the darkness

too intense, to allow me immediately to find my way up the steep.

I sat down, therefore, to recover myself, and to reflect upon my

situation.

This was no sooner done, than a low voice was heard from behind the

lattice, on the side where I sat. Between the rock and the lattice

was a chasm not wide enough to admit a human body; yet in this

chasm he that spoke appeared to be stationed. “Attend! attend! but

be not terrified.”

I started, and exclaimed, “Good heavens! what is that? Who are

you?”

“A friend; one come not to injure but to save you: fear nothing.”

This voice was immediately recognized to be the same with one of

those which I had heard in the closet; it was the voice of him who

had proposed to shoot rather than to strangle his victim. My

terror made me at once mute and motionless. He continued, “I

leagued to murder you. I repent. Mark my bidding, and be safe.

Avoid this spot. The snares of death encompass it. Elsewhere

danger will be distant; but this spot, shun it as you value your

life. Mark me further: profit by this warning, but divulge it not.

If a syllable of what has passed escape you, your doom is sealed.

Remember your father, and be faithful.”

Here the accents ceased, and left me overwhelmed with dismay. I

was fraught with the persuasion that during every moment I remained

here my life was endangered; but I could not take a step without

hazard of falling to the bottom of the precipice. The path leading

to the summit was short, but rugged and intricate. Even starlight

was excluded by the umbrage, and not the faintest gleam was

afforded to guide my steps. What should I do? To depart or remain

was equally and eminently perilous.

In this state of uncertainty, I perceived a ray flit across the

gloom and disappear. Another succeeded, which was stronger, and

remained for a passing moment. It glittered on the shrubs that

were scattered at the entrance, and gleam continued to succeed

gleam for a few seconds, till they finally gave place to

unintermitted darkness.

The first visitings of this light called up a train of horrors in

my mind; destruction impended over this spot; the voice which I had

lately heard had warned me to retire, and had menaced me with the

fate of my father if I refused. I was desirous, but unable to

obey; these gleams were such as preluded the stroke by which he

fell; the hour, perhaps, was the same. I shuddered as if I had

beheld suspended over me the exterminating sword.

Presently a new and stronger illumination burst through the lattice

on the right hand, and a voice from the edge of the precipice above

called out my name. It was Pleyel. Joyfully did I recognize his

accents; but such was the tumult of my thoughts that I had not

power to answer him till he had frequently repeated his summons. I

hurried at length from the fatal spot, and, directed by the lantern

which he bore, ascended the hill.

Pale and breathless, it was with difficulty I could support myself.

He anxiously inquired into the cause of my affright and the motive

of my unusual absence. He had returned from my brother’s at a late

hour, and was informed by Judith that I had walked out before

sunset and had not yet returned. This intelligence was somewhat

alarming. He waited some time; but, my absence continuing, he had

set out in search of me. He had explored the neighborhood with the

utmost care, but, receiving no tidings of me, he was preparing to

acquaint my brother with this circumstance, when he recollected the

summer-house on the bank, and conceived it possible that some

accident had detained me there. He again inquired into the cause

of this detention, and of that confusion and dismay which my looks

testified.

I told him that I had strolled hither in the afternoon, that sleep

had overtaken me as I sat, and that I had awakened a few minutes

before his arrival. I could tell him no more. In the present

impetuosity of my thoughts, I was almost dubious whether the pit

into which my brother had endeavored to entice me, and the voice

that talked through the lattice, were not parts of the same dream.

I remembered, likewise, the charge of secrecy, and the penalty

denounced if I should rashly divulge what I had heard. For these

reasons I was silent on that subject, and, shutting myself in my

chamber, delivered myself up to contemplation.

What I have related will, no doubt, appear to you a fable. You

will believe that calamity has subverted my reason, and that I am

amusing you with the chimeras of my brain instead of facts that

have really happened. I shall not be surprised or offended if

these be your suspicions. I know not, indeed, how you can deny

them admission. For, if to me, the immediate witness, they were

fertile of perplexity and doubt, how must they affect another to

whom they are recommended only by my testimony? It was only by

subsequent events that I was fully and incontestably assured of the

veracity of my senses.

Meanwhile, what was I to think? I had been assured that a design

had been formed against my life. The ruffians had leagued to

murder me. Whom had I offended? Who was there, with whom I had

ever maintained intercourse, who was capable of harboring such

atrocious purposes?

My temper was the reverse of cruel and imperious. My heart was

touched with sympathy for the children of misfortune. But this

sympathy was not a barren sentiment. My purse, scanty as it was,

was ever open, and my hands ever active, to relieve distress. Many

were the wretches whom my personal exertions had extricated from

want and disease, and who rewarded me with their gratitude. There

was no face which lowered at my approach, and no lips which uttered

imprecations in my hearing. On the contrary, there was none, over

whose fate I had exerted any influence or to whom I was known by

reputation, who did not greet me with smiles and dismiss me with

proofs of veneration: yet did not my senses assure me that a plot

was laid against my life?

I am not destitute of courage. I have shown myself deliberative

and calm in the midst of peril. I have hazarded my own life for

the preservation of another; but now was I confused and panic-

struck. I have not lived so as to fear death; yet to perish by an

unseen and secret stroke, to be mangled by the knife of an

assassin, was a thought at which I shuddered: what had I done to

deserve to be made the victim of malignant passions?

But soft! was I not assured that my life was safe in all places but

one? And why was the treason limited to take effect in this spot?

I was everywhere equally defenseless. My house and chamber were at

all times accessible. Danger still impended over me; the bloody

purpose was still entertained, but the hand that was to execute it

was powerless in all places but one!

Here I had remained for the last four or five hours, without the

means of resistance or defense; yet I had not been attacked. A

human being was at hand, who was conscious of my presence, and

warned me hereafter to avoid this retreat. His voice was not

absolutely new, but had I never heard it but once before? But why

did he prohibit me from relating this incident to others, and what

species of death will be awarded if I disobey?

Such were the reflections that haunted me during the night, and

which effectually deprived me of sleep. Next morning, at

breakfast, Pleyel related an event which my disappearance had

hindered him from mentioning the night before. Early the preceding

morning, his occasions called him to the city: he had stepped into

a coffee-house to while away an hour; here he had met a person

whose appearance instantly bespoke him to be the same whose hasty

visit I have mentioned, and whose extraordinary visage and tones

had so powerfully affected me. On an attentive survey, however, he

proved, likewise, to be one with whom my friend had had some

intercourse in Europe. This authorized the liberty of accosting

him, and after some conversation, mindful, as Pleyel said, of the

footing which this stranger had gained in my heart, he had ventured

to invite him to Mettingen. The invitation had been cheerfully

accepted, and a visit promised on the afternoon of the next day.

This information excited no sober emotions in my breast. I was, of

course, eager to be informed as to the circumstances of their

ancient intercourse. When and where had they met? What knew he of

the life and character of this man?

In answer to my inquiries, he informed me that, three years before,

he was a traveler in Spain. He had made an excursion from Valencia

to Murviedro, with a view to inspect the remains of Roman

magnificence scattered in the environs of that town. While

traversing the site of the theater of old Saguntum, he alighted

upon this man, seated on a stone, and deeply engaged in perusing

the work of the deacon Marti. A short conversation ensued, which

proved the stranger to be English. They returned to Valencia

together.

His garb, aspect, and deportment were wholly Spanish. A residence

of three years in the country, indefatigable attention to the

language, and a studious conformity with the customs of the people,

had made him indistinguishable from a native when he chose to

assume that character. Pleyel found him to be connected, on the

footing of friendship and respect, with many eminent merchants in

that city. He had embraced the Catholic religion, and adopted a

Spanish name instead of his own, which was CARWIN, and devoted

himself to the literature and religion of his new country. He

pursued no profession, but subsisted on remittances from England.

While Pleyel remained in Valencia, Carwin betrayed no aversion to

intercourse, and the former found no small attractions in the

society of this new acquaintance, On general topics he was highly

intelligent and communicative. He had visited every corner of

Spain, and could furnish the most accurate details respecting its

ancient and present state. On topics of religion and of his own

history, previous to his TRANSFORMATION into a Spaniard, he was

invariably silent. You could merely gather from his discourse that

he was English, and that he was well acquainted with the

neighboring countries.

His character excited considerable curiosity in the observer. It

was not easy to reconcile his conversion to the Romish faith with

those proofs of knowledge and capacity that were exhibited by him

on different occasions. A suspicion was sometimes admitted that

his belief was counterfeited for some political purpose. The most

careful observation, however, produced no discovery. His manners

were at all times harmless and inartificial, and his habits those

of a lover of contemplation and seclusion. He appeared to have

contracted an affection for Pleyel, who was not slow to return it.

My friend, after a month’s residence in this city, returned into

France, and, since that period, had heard nothing concerning Carwin

till his appearance at Mettingen.

On this occasion Carwin had received Pleyel’s greeting with a

certain distance and solemnity to which the latter had not been

accustomed. He had waived noticing the inquiries of Pleyel

respecting his desertion of Spain, in which he had formerly

declared that it was his purpose to spend his life. He had

assiduously diverted the attention of the latter to indifferent

topics, but was still, on every theme, as eloquent and judicious as

formerly. Why he had assumed the garb of a rustic Pleyel was

unable to conjecture. Perhaps it might be poverty; perhaps he was

swayed by motives which it was his interest to conceal, but which

were connected with consequences of the utmost moment.

Such was the sum of my friend’s information. I was not sorry to be

left alone during the greater part of this day. Every employment

was irksome which did not leave me at liberty to meditate. I had

now a new subject on which to exercise my thoughts. Before evening

I should be ushered into his presence, and listen to those tones

whose magical and thrilling power I had already experienced. But

with what new images would he then be accompanied?

Carwin was an adherent to the Romish faith, yet was an Englishman

by birth, and, perhaps, a Protestant by education. He had adopted

Spain for his country, and had intimated a design to spend his days

there, yet now was an inhabitant of this district, and disguised by

the habiliments of a clown! What could have obliterated the

impressions of his youth and made him abjure his religion and his

country? What subsequent events had introduced so total a change

in his plans? In withdrawing from Spain, had he reverted to the

religion of his ancestors? or was it true that his former

conversion was deceitful, and that his conduct had been swayed by

motives which it was prudent to conceal?

Hours were consumed in revolving these ideas. My meditations were

intense; and, when the series was broken, I began to reflect with

astonishment on my situation. From the death of my parents till

the commencement of this year my life had been serene and blissful

beyond the ordinary portion of humanity; but now my bosom was

corroded by anxiety. I was visited by dread of unknown dangers,

and the future was a scene over which clouds rolled and thunders

muttered. I compared the cause with the effect, and they seemed

disproportioned to each other. All unaware, and in a manner which

I had no power to explain, I was pushed from my immovable and lofty

station and cast upon a sea of troubles.

I determined to be my brother’s visitant on this evening; yet my

resolves were not unattended with wavering and reluctance.

Pleyel’s insinuations that I was in love affected in no degree my

belief; yet the consciousness that this was the opinion of one who

would probably be present at our introduction to each other would

excite all that confusion which the passion itself is apt to

produce. This would confirm him in his error and call forth new

railleries. His mirth, when exerted upon this topic, was the

source of the bitterest vexation. Had he been aware of its

influence upon my happiness, his temper would not have allowed him

to persist; but this influence it was my chief endeavor to conceal.

That the belief of my having bestowed my heart upon another

produced in my friend none but ludicrous sensations was the true

cause of my distress; but if this had been discovered by him my

distress would have been unspeakably aggravated.