The terms on which she had been admitted into this house included the
advance of one quarter's rent and the monthly payment of subsequent
dues. The requisite sum had been with difficulty collected; the landlord
had twice called to remind her of her stipulation, and this day had been
fixed for the discharge of this debt. He had omitted, contrary to her
expectations and her wishes, to come. It was probable, however, that
they would meet on the ensuing day. If he should fail in this respect,
it appeared to be her duty to carry the money to his house, and this it
had been her resolution to perform.
Now, however, new views were suggested to her thoughts. By the payment
of this debt she would leave herself nearly destitute. The flight and
terror of the citizens would deprive her of employment. Want of food
was an immediate and inevitable evil which the payment of this sum would
produce. Was it just to incur this evil? To retain the means of
luxurious gratification would be wrong, but to bereave herself and her
father of bare subsistence was surely no dictate of duty.
It is true the penalty of non-payment was always in the landlord's
hands. He was empowered by the law to sell their movables end expel them
from his house. It was now no time for a penalty like this to be
incurred. But from this treatment it was reasonable to hope that his
lenity would save them. Was it not right to wait till the alternative of
expulsion or payment was imposed? Meanwhile, however, she was subjected
to the torments of suspense, and to the guilt of a broken promise. These
consequences were to be eluded only in one way: by visiting her
landlord, and stating her true condition, it was possible that his
compassion would remit claims which were in themselves unreasonable and
uncommon. The tender of the money, accompanied by representations
sufficiently earnest and pathetic, might possibly be declined.
These reflections were the next morning submitted to her father. Her
decision in this case was of less importance in his eyes than in those
of his daughter. Should the money be retained, it was in his opinion a
pittance too small to afford them effectual support. Supposing
provisions to be had at any price, which was itself improbable, that
price would be exorbitant. The general confusion would probably last for
months, and thirty dollars would be devoured in a few weeks, even in a
time of safety. To give or to keep was indifferent for another reason.
It was absurd for those to consult about means of subsistence for the
next month, when it was fixed that they should die to-morrow. The true
proceeding was obvious. The landlord's character was well known to him
by means of the plaints and invectives of their neighbours, most of whom
were tenants of the same man. If the money were offered his avarice
would receive it, in spite of all the pleas that she should urge. If it
were detained without leave, an officer of justice would quickly be
dispatched to claim it.
This statement was sufficient to take away from Constantia the hope that
she had fostered. "What then," said she, after a pause, "is my father's
advice? Shall I go forthwith and deliver the money?"
"No," said he, "stay till he sends for it. Have you forgotten that
Matthews resides in the very midst of this disease. There is no need to
thrust yourself within in its fangs. They will reach us time enough. It
is likely his messenger will be an agent of the law. No matter. The debt
will be merely increased by a few charges. In a state like ours, the
miserable remnant is not worth caring for."
This reasoning did not impart conviction to the lady. The danger flowing
from a tainted atmosphere was not small, but to incur that danger was
wiser than to exasperate their landlord, to augment the debt, and to
encounter the disgrace accruing from a constable's visits. The
conversation was dropped, and presently after she set out on a visit to
Matthews.
She fully estimated the importance to her happiness of the sum which she
was going to pay. The general panic had already, in some degree,
produced the effect she chiefly dreaded; the failure of employment for
her needle. Her father had, with his usual diligence at self-torment,
supplied her with sufficient proofs of the covetous and obdurate temper
of her creditor. Insupportable, however, as the evil of payment was, it
was better to incur it spontaneously, than by means of legal process.
The desperateness of this proceeding, therefore, did not prevent her
from adopting it, but it filled her heart with the bitterest sensations.
Absorbed, as she passed along, by these, she was nearly insensible to
the vacancy which now prevailed in a quarter which formerly resounded
with the din of voices and carriages.
As she approached the house to which she was going, her reluctance to
proceed increased. Frequently she paused to recollect the motives that
had prescribed this task, and to reinforce her purposes. At length she
arrived at the house. Now, for the first time, her attention was excited
by the silence and desolation that surrounded her. This evidence of fear
and of danger struck upon her heart. All appeared to have fled from the
presence of this unseen and terrible foe. The temerity of adventuring
thus into the jaws of the pest now appeared to her in glaring colours.
Appearances suggested a refection which had not previously occurred,
and which tended to console her. Was it not probable that Matthews had
likewise flown? His habits were calculated to endear to him his life: he
would scarcely be among the last to shun perils like these: The omission
of his promised visit on the preceding day might be owing to his absence
from the city, and thus, without subjection to any painful alternative,
she might be suffered to retain the money.
To give certainty to this hope, she cast her eye towards the house
opposite to which she now stood. Her heart drooped on perceiving proofs
that the dwelling was still inhabited. The door was open, and the
windows in the second and third story were raised. Near the entrance, in
the street, stood a cart. The horse attached to it, in its form and
furniture and attitude, was an emblem of torpor and decay. His gaunt
sides, motionless limbs, his gummy and dead eyes, and his head hanging
to the ground, were in unison with the craziness of the vehicle to which
he belonged, and the paltry and bedusted harness which covered him. No
attendant nor any human face was visible. The stillness, though at an
hour customarily busy, was uninterrupted except by the sound of wheels
moving at an almost indistinguishable distance.
She paused for a moment to contemplate this unwonted spectacle. Her
trepidations were mingled with emotions not unakin to sublimity, but the
consciousness of danger speedily prevailed, and she hastened to acquit
herself of her engagement. She approached the door for this purpose, but
before she could draw the bell, her motions were arrested by sounds from
within. The staircase was opposite the door. Two persons were now
discovered descending the stairs. They lifted between them a heavy mass,
which was presently discerned to be a coffin. Shocked by this discovery,
and trembling, she withdrew from the entrance.
At this moment a door on the opposite side of the street opened, and a
female came out. Constantia approached her involuntarily, and her
appearance not being unattractive, ventured more by gestures than by
words, to inquire whose obsequies were thus unceremoniously conducted.
The woman informed her that the dead was Matthews, who, two days before
was walking about, indifferent to and braving danger. She cut short the
narrative which her companion seemed willing to prolong, and to
embellish with all its circumstances, and hastened home with her utmost
expedition.
The mind of Constantia was a stranger to pusillanimity. Death, as the
common lot of all, was regarded by her without perturbation. The value
of life, though no annihilated, was certainly diminished by adversity.
With whatever solemnity contemplated, it excited on her own account no
aversion or inquietude. For her father's sake only death was an evil to
be ardently deprecated. The nature of the prevalent disease, the limits
and modes of its influence, the risk that is incurred by approaching the
sick or the dead, or by breathing the surrounding element, were subjects
foreign to her education. She judged like the mass of mankind from the
most obvious appearances, and was subject like them to impulses which
disdained the control of her reason. With all her complacency for death,
and speculative resignation to the fate that governs the world, disquiet
and alarm pervaded her bosom on this occasion.
The deplorable state to which her father would be reduced by her death
was seen and lamented, but her tremulous sensations flowed not from this
source. They were, in some sort, inexplicable and mechanical. In spite
of recollection and reflection, they bewildered and harassed her, and
subsided only of their own accord.
The death of Matthews was productive of one desirable consequence. Till
the present tumult was passed, and his representatives had leisure to
inspect his affairs, his debtors would probably remain unmolested. He
likewise, who should succeed to the inheritance, might possess very
different qualities, and be as much, distinguished for equity as
Matthews had been for extortion. These reflections lightened her
footsteps as she hied homeward. The knowledge she had gained, she hoped,
would counterpoise, in her father's apprehension, the perils which
accompanied the acquisition of it.
She had scarcely passed her own threshold, when she was followed by
Whiston. This man pursued the occupation of a cooper. He performed
journeywork in a shop, which, unfortunately for him, was situated near
the water, and at a small distance from the scene of original infection.
This day his employer had dismissed his workmen, and Whiston was at
liberty to retire from the city,--a scheme which had been the theme of
deliberation and discussion during the preceding fortnight.
Hitherto his apprehensions seemed to have molested others more than
himself. The rumours and conjectures industriously collected during the
day, were, in the the evening, copiously detailed to his neighbours, and
his own mind appeared to be disburdened of its cares in proportion as he
filled others with terror and inquietude. The predictions of physicians,
the measure of precaution prescribed by the government, the progress of
the malady, and the history of the victims who were hourly destroyed by
it, were communicated with tormenting prolixity and terrifying
minuteness.
On these accounts, as well as on others, no one's visits were more
unwelcome than his. As his deportment was sober and honest, and his
intentions harmless, he was always treated by Constantia with
politeness, though his entrance always produced a momentary depression
of her spirits. On this evening she was less fitted than ever to repel
those anxieties which his conversation was qualified to produce. His
entrance, therefore, was observed with sincere regret.
Contrary, however, to her expectation, Whiston brought with him new
manners and a new expression of countenance. He was silent, abstracted,
his eye was full of inquietude, and wandered with perpetual
restlessness. On these tokens being remarked, he expressed, in faltering
accents, his belief that he had contracted this disease, and that now it
was too late for him to leave the city.
Mr. Dudley's education was somewhat medical. He was so far interested in
his guest as to inquire into his sensations. They were such as were
commonly the prelude to fever. Mr Dudley, while he endeavoured by
cheerful tones to banish his dejection, exhorted him to go home, and to
take some hot and wholesome draught, in consequence of which he might
rise to-morrow with his usual health. This advice was gratefully
received, and Whiston put a period to his visit much sooner than was
customary.
Mr. Dudley entertained no doubts that Whiston was seized with the
reigning disease, and extinguished the faint hope which his daughter had
cherished, that their district would escape. Whiston's habituation was
nearly opposite his own; but as they made no use of their front room,
they had seldom an opportunity of observing the transactions of their
neighbours. This distance and seclusion were congenial with her
feelings, and she derived pleasure from her father's confession, that
they contributed to personal security.
Constantia was accustomed to rise with the dawn, and traverse for an
hour the State-house Mall. As she took her walk the next morning, she
pondered with astonishment on the present situation of the city. The air
was bright and pure, and apparently salubrious. Security and silence
seemed to hover over the scene. She was only reminded of the true state
of things by the occasional appearance of carriages loaded with
household utensils tending towards the country, and by the odour of
vinegar by which every passenger was accompanied. The public walk was
cool and fragrant as formerly, skirted by verdure as bright, and shaded
by foliage as luxuriant, but it was no longer frequented by lively steps
and cheerful countenances. Its solitude was uninterrupted by any but
herself.
This day passed without furnishing any occasion to leave the house. She
was less sedulously employed than usual, as the clothes on which she was
engaged belonged to a family who had precipitately left the city. She
had leisure therefore to ruminate. She could not but feel some concern
in the fate of Whiston. He was a young man, who subsisted on the fruits
of his labour, and divided his gains with an only sister who lived with
him, and who performed every household office.
This girl was humble and innocent, and of a temper affectionate and
mild. Casual intercourse only had taken place between her and
Constantia. They were too dissimilar for any pleasure to arise from
communication, but the latter was sufficiently disposed to extend to her
harmless neighbour the sympathy and succour which she needed. Whiston
had come from a distant part of the country, and his sister was the only
person in the city with whom he was connected by ties of kindred. In
case of his sickness, therefore, their condition would be helpless and
deplorable.
Evening arrived, and Whiston failed to pay his customary visit. She
mentioned this omission to her father, and expressed her apprehension as
to the cause of it. He did not discountenance the inference which she
drew from this circumstance, and assented to the justice of the picture
which she drew of the calamitous state to which Whiston and his sister
would be reduced by the indisposition of either. She then ventured to
suggest the propriety of visiting the house, and of thus ascertaining
the truth.
To this proposal Mr. Dudley urged the most vehement objections. What
purpose could be served by entering their dwelling? What benefit would
flow but the gratification of a dangerous curiosity? Constantia was
disabled from furnishing pecuniary aid. She could not act the part of
physician or nurse. Her father stood in need of a thousand personal
services, and the drudgery of cleaning and cooking already exceeded the
bounds of her strength. The hazard of contracting the disease by
conversing with the sick was imminent. What services was she able to
render equivalent to the consequences of her own sickness and death?
These representations had temporary influence. They recalled her for a
moment from her purpose, but this purpose was speedily re-embraced. She
reflected that the evil to herself, formidable as it was, was barely
problematical. That converse with the sick would impart this disease was
by no means certain. Whiston might at least be visited. Perhaps she
would find him well. If sick, his disease might be unepidemical, or
curable by seasonable assistance. He might stand in need of a physician,
and she was more able than his sister to summon this aid.
Her father listened calmly to her reasonings. After a pause he gave his
consent. In doing this he was influenced not by the conviction that his
daughter's safety would be exposed to no hazard, but from a belief that,
though she might shun infection for the present, it would inevitably
seize her during some period of the progress of this pest.