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ORMOND;
Or,
The Secret Witness.
by
B. C. BROWN,
Author of Wieland, or Transformation.
In Three Volumes.
VOL. II.
"Saepe intereunt aliis meditantes necem."
PHAEDRUS
"Those who plot the destruction of others, very often fall,
themselves the victims."
Philadelphia Printed,
London, Re-Printed for Henry Colburn,
English and Foreign Public Library,
Conduit-Street, Bond-Street.
1811.
ORMOND,
OR THE
SECRET WITNESS
CHAPTER I.
On leaving Mr. Ormond's house, Constantia was met by that gentleman. He
saw her as she came out, and was charmed with the simplicity of her
appearance. On entering, he interrogated the servant as to the business
that brought her thither.
"So," said he, as he entered the drawing-room, where Craig was seated,
"you have had a visitant. She came, it seems, on a pressing occasion,
and would be put off with nothing but a letter."
Craig had not expected this address, but it only precipitated the
execution of a design that he had formed. Being aware of this or
similar accidents, he had constructed and related on a previous occasion
to Ormond a story suitable to his purpose.
"Ay," said he, in a tone of affected compassion, "it is a sad affair
enough. I am sorry it is not in my power to help the poor girl. She is
wrong in imputing her father's misfortunes to me, but I know the source
of her mistake. Would to heaven it was in my flower to repair the wrongs
they have suffered not from me, but from one whose relationship is a
disgrace to me."
"Perhaps," replied the other, "you are willing to explain this affair."
"Yes, I wish to explain it. I was afraid of some such accident as this.
An explanation is due to my character. I have already told you my story.
I mentioned to you a brother of mine. There is scarcely thirteen months
difference in our ages. There is a strong resemblance between him and
me in our exterior, though I hope there is none at all in our minds.
This brother was a partner of a gentleman, the father of this girl, at
New York. He was a long time nothing better than an apprentice to Mr.
Dudley, but he advanced so much in the good graces of his master, that
he finally took him into partnership. I did not know till I arrived on
the continent the whole of his misconduct. It appears that he embezzled
the property of the house, and fled away with it, and the consequence
was, that his quondam master was ruined. I am often mistaken for my
brother, to my no small inconvenience: but all this I told you formerly.
See what a letter I just now received from this girl."
Craig was one of the most plausible of men. His character was a standing
proof of the vanity of physiognomy. There were few men who could refuse
their confidence to his open and ingenuous aspect. To this
circumstance, perhaps, he owed his ruin. His temptations to deceive
were stronger than what are incident to most other men. Deception was so
easy a task, that the difficulty lay, not in infusing false opinions
respecting him, but in preventing them from being spontaneously imbibed.
He contracted habits of imposture imperceptibly. In proportion as he
deviated from the practice of truth, he discerned the necessity of
extending and systematizing his efforts, and of augmenting the original
benignity and attractiveness of his looks, by studied additions. The
further he proceeded, the more difficult it was to return. Experience
and habit added daily to his speciousness, till at length the world
perhaps might have been searched in vain for his competitor.
He had been introduced to Ormond under the most favourable auspices. He
had provided against a danger which he knew to be imminent, by relating
his own story as if it were his brother's. He had, however, made
various additions to it, serving to aggravate the heinousness of his
guilt. This arose partly from policy, and partly from the habit of
lying, which was prompted by a fertile invention, and rendered
inveterate by incessant exercise. He interwove in his tale an intrigue
between Miss Dudley and his brother. The former was seduced, and this
man had employed his skill in chirographical imitation, in composing
letters from Miss Dudley to his brother, which sufficiently attested her
dishonour. He and his brother, he related, to have met in Jamaica, where
the latter died, by which meant his personal property and papers came
into his possession.
Ormond read the letter which his companion presented to him on this
occasion. The papers which Craig had formerly permitted him to inspect
had made him familiar with her handwriting. The penmanship was, indeed,
similar, yet this was written in a spirit not quite congenial with that
which had dictated her letters to her lover. But he reflected that the
emergency was extraordinary, and that the new scenes through which she
had passed, had, perhaps, enabled her to retrieve her virtue and enforce
it. The picture which she drew of her father's distresses affected him
and his companion very differently. He pondered on it for some time in
silence; he then looked up, and with his usual abruptness said, "I
suppose you gave her something?"
"No. I was extremely sorry that it was not in my power. I have nothing
but a little trifling silver about me. I I have no more at home than
will barely suffice to pay my board here, and my expenses to Baltimore.
Till I reach there I cannot expect a supply. I was less uneasy I confess
on this account, because I knew you to be equally willing and much more
able to afford the relief she asks."
This Mr. Ormond had predetermined to do. He paused only to deliberate in
what manner it could, with most propriety, be done. He was always
willing, when he conferred benefits, to conceal the author. He was not
displeased when gratitude was misplaced, and readily allowed his
instruments to act as if they were principals. He questioned not the
veracity of Craig, and was, therefore, desirous to free him from the
molestation that was threatened in the way which had been prescribed. He
put a note of one hundred dollars into his hand, and enjoined him to
send it to the Dudleys that evening, or early the next morning. "I am
pleased," he added, "with the style of this letter: It can be of no
service to you; leave it in my possession."
Craig would much rather have thrown it into the fire; but he knew the
character of his companion, and was afraid to make any objection to his
request. He promised to send, or carry the note the next morning,
before he set out on his intended journey.
This journey was to Baltimore, and was undertaken so soon merely to
oblige his friend, who was desirous of remitting to Baltimore a
considerable sum in English guineas, and who had been for some time in
search of one who might execute this commission with fidelity. The offer
of Craig had been joyfully accepted, and next morning had been the time
fixed for his departure, a period the most opportune for Craig's designs
that could be imagined. To return to Miss Dudley.
The sum that remained to her after the discharge of her debts would
quickly be expended. It was no argument of wisdom to lose sight of the
future in the oblivion of present care. The time would inevitably come
when new resources would be necessary. Every hour brought nearer the
period without facilitating the discovery of new expedients. She related
the recent adventure to her father. He acquiesced in the propriety of
her measures, but the succour that she had thus obtained consoled him
but little. He saw how speedily it would again be required, and was
hopeless of a like fortunate occurrence.
Some days had elapsed, and Constantia had been so fortunate as to
procure some employment. She was thus engaged in the evening when they
were surprised by a visit from their landlord. This was an occurrence
that foreboded them no good. He entered with abruptness, and scarcely
noticed the salutations that he received. His bosom swelled with
discontent, which seemed ready to be poured out upon his two companions.
To the inquiry as to the condition of his health and that of his family,
he surlily answered: "Never mind how I am: none the better for my
tenants I think. Never was a man so much plagued as I have been; what
with one putting me off from time to time; what with another quarrelling
about terms, and denying his agreement, and another running away in my
debt, I expect nothing but to come to poverty--God help me!--at last.
But this was the worst of all. I was never before treated so in all my
life. I don't know what or when I shall get to the end of my troubles.
To be fobbed out of my rent and twenty-five dollars into the bargain! It
is very strange treatment, I assure you, Mr. Dudley."
"What is it you mean?" replied that gentleman. "You have received your
dues, and--"
"Received my dues, indeed! High enough too! I have received none of my
dues. I have been imposed upon. I have been put to very great trouble,
and expect some compensation. There is no knowing the character of one's
tenants. There is nothing but knavery in the world one would think. I'm
sure no man has suffered more by bad tenants than I have. But this is
the strangest treatment I ever met with. Very strange indeed, Dudley,
and I must be paid without delay. To lose my rent and twenty-five
dollars into the bargain, is too hard. I never met with the equal of
it--not I. Besides, I wou'dn't be put to all this trouble for twice the
sum."
"What does all this mean, Mr. M'Crea? You seem inclined to scold; but I
cannot conceive why you came here for that purpose. This behaviour is
improper--"
"No, it is very proper, and I want payment of my money. Fifty dollars
you owe me. Miss comes to pay me my rent as I thought. She brings me a
fifty-dollar note; I changes it for her, for I thought to be sure I was
quite safe: but, behold, when I sends it to the bank to get the money,
they sends me back word that it's forged, and calls on me, before a
magistrate, to tell them where I got it from. I'm sure I never was so
flustered in my life. I would not have such a thing for ten times the
sum."
He proceeded to descant on his loss without any interruption from his
auditors, whom this intelligence had struck dumb. Mr. Dudley instantly
saw the origin and full extent of this misfortune. He was, nevertheless,
calm, and indulged in no invectives against Craig. "It is all of a
piece," said he: "our ruin is inevitable. Well then, let it come."
After M'Crea had railed himself weary, he flung out of the house,
warning them that next morning he should distrain for his rent, and, at
the same time, sue them for the money that Constantia had received in
exchange for her note.
Miss Dudley was unable to pursue her task. She laid down her needle, and
fixed her eyes upon her father. They had been engaged in earnest
discourse when their landlord entered. Now there was a pause of profound
silence, till the affectionate Lucy, who sufficiently comprehended this
scene, gave vent to her affliction in sobs. Her mistress turned to
her:--
"Cheer up, my Lucy. We shall do well enough, my girl. Our state is bad
enough, without doubt, but despair will make it worse."
The anxiety that occupied her mind related less to herself than to her
father. He, indeed in the present instance, was exposed to prosecution.
It was he who was answerable for the debt, and whose person would be
thrown into durance by the suit that was menaced. The horrors of a
prison had not hitherto been experienced or anticipated. The worst evil
that she had imagined was inexpressibly inferior to this. The idea had
in it something of terrific and loathsome. The mere supposition of its
being possible was not to be endured. If all other expedients should
fail, she thought of nothing less than desperate resistance. No. It was
better to die than to go to prison.
For a time she was deserted of her admirable equanimity. This, no doubt,
was the result of surprise. She had not yet obtained the calmness
necessary to deliberation. During this gloomy interval, she would,
perhaps, have adapted any scheme, however dismal and atrocious, which
her father's despair might suggest. She would not refuse to terminate
her own and her father's unfortunate existence by poison or the cord.
This confusion of mind could not exist long; it gradually gave place to
cheerful prospects. The evil perhaps was not without its timely remedy.
The person whom she had set out to visit, when her course was diverted
by Craig, she once more resolved to apply to; to lay before him, without
reserve, her father's situation, to entreat pecuniary succour, and to
offer herself as a servant in his family, or in that of any of his
friends who stood in need of one. This resolution, in a slight degree,
consoled her; but her mind had been too thoroughly disturbed to allow
her any sleep during that night.
She equipped herself betimes, and proceeded with a doubting heart to the
house of Mr. Melbourne. She was informed that he had risen, but was
never to be seen at so early an hour. At nine o'clock he would be
disengaged, and she would be admitted. In the present state of her
affairs this delay was peculiarly unwelcome. At breakfast, her suspense
and anxieties would not allow her to eat a morsel; and when the hour
approached she prepared herself for a new attempt.
As she went out, she met at the door a person whom she recognized, and
whose office she knew to be that of a constable. Constantia had
exercised, in her present narrow sphere, that beneficence which she had
formerly exerted in a larger. There was nothing, consistent with her
slender means, that she did not willingly perform for the service of
others. She had not been sparing of consolation and personal aid in
many cases of personal distress that had occurred in her neighbourhood
Hence, as far as she was known, he was reverenced.
The wife of their present visitant had experienced her succour and
sympathy, on occasion of the death of a favourite child. The man,
notwithstanding his office, was not of a rugged or ungrateful temper.
The task that was now imposed upon him he undertook with extreme
reluctance. He was somewhat reconciled to it by the reflection that
another might not perform it with that gentleness and lenity which he
found in himself a disposition to exercise on all occasions, but
particularly on the present.
She easily guessed at his business, and having greeted him with the
utmost friendliness, returned with him into the house. She endeavoured
to remove the embarrassment that hung about him, but in vain. Having
levied what the law very properly calls a distress, he proceeded, after
much hesitation, to inform Dudley that he was charged with a message
from a magistrate, summoning him to come forthwith, and account for
having a forged banknote in his possession.
M'Crea had given no intimation of this. The painful surprise that it
produced soon yielded to a just view of this affair. Temporary
inconvenience and vexation was all that could be dreaded from it. Mr.
Dudley hated to be seen or known. He usually walked out in the dusk of
evening, but limited his perambulations to a short space. At all other
times he was obstinately recluse. He was easily persuaded by his
daughter to allow her to perform this unwelcome office in his stead. He
had not received, nor even seen the note. He would have willingly spared
her the mortification of a judicial examination, but he knew that this
was unavoidable. Should he comply with this summons himself, his
daughter's presence would be equally necessary.
Influenced by these considerations, he was willing that his daughter
should accompany the messenger, who was content that they should consult
their mutual convenience in this respect. This interview was to her not
without its terrors; but she cherished the hope that it might ultimately
conduce to good. She did not foresee the means by which this would be
effected, but her heart was lightened by a secret and inexplicable faith
in the propitiousness of some event that was yet to occur. This faith
was powerfully enforced when she reached the magistrate's door, and
found that he was no other than Melbourne, whose succour she intended to
solicit. She was speedily ushered, not into his office, but into a
private apartment, where he received her alone.
He had been favourably prepossessed with regard to her character by the
report of the officer who, on being charged with the message, had
accounted for the regret which he manifested, by dwelling on the merits
of Miss Dudley. He behaved with grave civility, requested her to be
seated, and accurately scrutinized her appearance. She found herself not
deceived in her preconceptions of this gentleman's character, and drew a
favourable omen as to the event of this interview by what had already
taken place. He viewed her in silence for some time, and then, in a
conciliating tone, said:--
"It seems to me, madam, as if I had seen you before. Your face, indeed,
is of that kind which, when once seen, is not easily forgotten. I know
it is a long time since, but I cannot tell when or where. If you will
not deem me impertinent, I will venture to ask you to assist my
conjectures. Your name, as I am informed, is Acworth."--(I ought to have
mentioned that Mr. Dudley, on his removal from New York, among other
expedients to obliterate the memory of his former condition, and
conceal his poverty from the World, had made this change in his name.)
"That, indeed," said the lady, "is the name which my father at present
bears. His real name is Dudley. His abode was formerly in Queen Street,
New York. Your conjecture, Sir, is not erroneous. This is not the first
time we have seen each other. I well recollect your having been at my
father's house in the days of his prosperity."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Melbourne, starting from his seat in the
first impulse of his astonishment. "Are you the daughter of my friend
Dudley, by whom I have so often been hospitably entertained? I have
heard of his misfortunes, but knew not that he was alive, or in what
part of the world he resided.
"You are summoned on a very disagreeable affair, but I doubt not you
will easily exculpate your father. I am told that he is blind, and that
his situation is by no means as comfortable as might be wished. I am
grieved that he did not confide in the friendship of those that knew
him. What could prompt him to conceal himself?"
"My father has a proud spirit. It is not yet broken by adversity. He
disdains _to beg_, but I must now assume _that office_ for his sake. I
came hither this morning to lay before you his situation, and to entreat
your assistance to save him from a prison. He cannot pay for the poor
tenement he occupies; and our few goods are already under distress. He
has, likewise, contracted a debt. He is, I suppose, already sued on this
account, and must go to gaol, unless saved by the interposition of some
friend."
"It is true," said Melbourne, "I yesterday granted a warrant against him
at the suit of Malcolm M'Crea. Little did I think that the defendant was
Stephen Dudley; but you may dismiss all apprehensions on that score.
That affair shall be settled to your father's satisfaction: meanwhile
we will, if you please, despatch this unpleasant business respecting a
counterfeit note received in payment from you by this M'Crea."
Miss Dudley satisfactorily explained that affair. She stated the
relation in which Craig had formerly stood to her father, and the acts
of which he had been guilty. She slightly touched on the distresses
which the family had undergone during their abode in this city, and the
means by which she had been able to preserve her father from want. She
mentioned the circumstances which compelled her to seek his charity as
the last resource, and the casual encounter with Craig, by which she was
for the present diverted from that design. She laid before him a copy of
the letter she had written, and explained the result in the gift of the
note which now appeared to be a counterfeit. She concluded with stating
her present views, and soliciting him to receive her into his family, in
quality of a servant, or use his interest with some of his friends to
procure a provision of this kind. This tale was calculated deeply to
affect a man of Mr. Melbourne's humanity.
"No," said he, "I cannot listen to such a request. My inclination is
bounded by my means. These will not allow me to place you in an
independent situation; but I will do what I can. With your leave, I will
introduce you to my wife in your true character. Her good sense will
teach her to set a just value on your friendship. There is no disgrace
in earning your subsistence by your own industry. She and her friends
will furnish you with plenty of materials; but if there ever be a
deficiency, look to them for a supply."
Constantia's heart overflowed at this declaration. Her silence was more
eloquent than any words could have been. She declined an immediate
introduction to his wife, and withdrew; but not till her new friend had
forced her to accept some money.
"Place it to account," said he. "It is merely paying you before hand,
and discharging a debt at the time when it happens to be most useful to
the creditor."
To what entire and incredible reverses is the tenor of human life
subject! A short minute shall effect a transition from a state utterly
destitute of hope to a condition where, all is serene and abundant. The
path, which we employ all our exertions to shun, is often found, upon
trial, to be the true road to prosperity.
Constantia retired from this interview with a heart bounding with
exultation. She related to her father all that had happened. He was
pleased on her account, but the detection of his poverty by Melbourne
was the parent of new mortification. His only remaining hope relative to
himself was that he should die in his obscurity, whereas, it was
probable that his old acquaintance would trace him to his covert. This
prognostic filled him with the deepest inquietude, and all the
reasonings of his daughter were insufficient to appease him.
Melbourne made his appearance in the afternoon. He was introduced by
Constantia to her father. Mr. Dudley's figure was emaciated, and his
features corroded by his ceaseless melancholy. His blindness produced in
them a woeful and wildering expression. His dress betokened his penury,
and was in unison with the meanness of his habitation and furniture. The
visitant was struck with the melancholy contrast, which these
appearances exhibited, to the joyousness and splendour that he had
formerly witnessed.
Mr. Dudley received the salutations of his guest with an air of
embarrassment and dejection. He resigned to his daughter the task of
sustaining the conversation, and excused himself from complying with the
urgent invitations of Melbourne, while, at the same time, he studiously
forebore all expressions tending to encourage any kind of intercourse
between them.
The guest came with a message from his wife, who entreated Miss Dudley's
company to tea with her that evening, adding that she should be entirely
alone. It was impossible to refuse compliance with this request. She
cheerfully assented, and in the evening was introduced to Mrs. Melbourne
by her husband.
Constantia found in this lady nothing that called for reverence or
admiration, though she could not deny her some portion of esteem. The
impression which her own appearance and conversation made upon her
entertainer was much more powerful and favourable. A consciousness of
her own worth, and disdain of the malevolence of fortune, perpetually
shone forth in her behaviour. It was modelled by a sort of mean between
presumption on the one hand, and humility on the other. She claimed no
more than what was justly due to her, but she claimed no less. She did
not soothe our vanity nor fascinate our pity by diffident reserves and
fluttering. Neither did she disgust by arrogant negligence, and
uncircumspect loquacity.
At parting she received commissions in the way of her profession, which
supplied her with abundant and profitable employment. She abridged her
visit on her father's account, and parted from her new friend just early
enough to avoid meeting with Ormond, who entered the house a few minutes
after she had left it.
"What pity," said Melbourne to him, "you did not come a little sooner.
You pretend to be a judge of beauty. I should like to have heard your
opinion of a face that has just left us."
"Describe it," said the other.
"That is beyond my capacity. Complexion, and hair, and eyebrows may be
painted, but these are of no great value in the present case. It is in
the putting them together that nature has here shown her skill, and not
in the structure of each of the parts, individually considered. Perhaps
you may at some time meet each other here. If a lofty fellow like you,
now, would mix a little common sense with his science, this girl might
hope for a husband, and her father for a natural protector."
"Are they ill search of one or the other?"
"I cannot say they are. Nay, I imagine they would hear any imputation
with more patience than that, but certain I am, they stand in need of
them. How much would it be to the honour of a man like you rioting in
wealth, to divide it with one, lovely and accomplished as this girl is,
and struggling with indigence!"
Melbourne then related the adventure of the morning. It was easy for
Ormond to perceive that this was the same person of whom he already had
some knowledge; but there were some particulars in the narrative that
excited surprise. A note had been received from Craig, at the first
visit in the evening, and this note was for no more than fifty dollars.
This did not exactly tally with the information received from Craig. But
this note was forged. Might not this girl mix a little imposture with
her truth? Who knows her temptations to hypocrisy? It might have been a
present from another quarter, and accompanied with no very honourable
conditions. Exquisite wretch! Those whom honesty will not let live must
be knaves. Such is the alternative offered by the wisdom of society.
He listened to the tale with apparent indifference. He speedily shifted
the conversation to new topics, and put an end to his visit sooner than
ordinary.