Having gratified my curiosity in this respect, Wallace proceeded to
remind me of the circumstances of our first interview. He had
entertained doubts whether I was the person whom he had met at Lesher's.
I acknowledged myself to be the same, and inquired, in my turn, into the
motives of his conduct on that occasion.
"I confess," said he, with some hesitation, "I meant only to sport with
your simplicity and ignorance. You must not imagine, however, that my
stratagem was deep-laid and deliberately executed. My professions at the
tavern were sincere. I meant not to injure but to serve you. It was not
till I reached the head of the staircase that the mischievous
contrivance occurred. I foresaw nothings at the moment, but ludicrous
mistakes and embarrassment. The scheme was executed almost at the very
moment it occurred.
"After I had returned to the parlour, Thetford charged me with the
delivery of a message in a distant quarter of the city. It was not till
I had performed this commission, and had set out on my return, that I
fully revolved the consequences likely to flow from my project.
"That Thetford and his wife would detect you in their bedchamber was
unquestionable. Perhaps, weary of my long delay, you would have fairly
undressed and gone to bed. The married couple would have made
preparation to follow you, and, when the curtain was undrawn, would
discover a robust youth, fast asleep, in their place. These images,
which had just before excited my laughter, now produced a very different
emotion. I dreaded some fatal catastrophe from the fiery passions of
Thetford. In the first transports of his fury he might pistol you, or,
at least, might command you to be dragged to prison.
"I now heartily repented of my jest, and hastened home, that I might
prevent, as far as possible, the evil effects that might flow from it.
The acknowledgment of my own agency in this affair would, at least,
transfer Thetford's indignation to myself, to whom it was equitably due.
"The married couple had retired to their chamber, and no alarm or
confusion had followed. This was an inexplicable circumstance. I waited
with impatience till the morning should furnish a solution of the
difficulty. The morning arrived. A strange event had, indeed, taken
place in their bedchamber. They found an infant asleep in their bed.
Thetford had been roused twice in the night, once by a noise in the
closet, and afterwards by a noise at the door.
"Some connection between these sounds and the foundling was naturally
suspected. In the morning the closet was examined, and a coarse pair of
shoes was found on the floor. The chamber door, which Thetford had
locked in the evening, was discovered to be open, as likewise a window
in the kitchen.
"These appearances were a source of wonder and doubt to others, but were
perfectly intelligible to me. I rejoiced that my stratagem had no more
dangerous consequence, and admired the ingenuity and perseverance with
which you had extricated yourself from so critical a state."
This narrative was only the verification of my own guesses. Its facts
were quickly supplanted in my thoughts by the disastrous picture he had
drawn of the state of the hospital. I was confounded and shocked by the
magnitude of this evil. The cause of it was obvious. The wretches whom
money could purchase were, of course, licentious and unprincipled.
Superintended and controlled, they might be useful instruments; but that
superintendence could not be bought.
What qualities were requisite in the governor of such an institution? He
must have zeal, diligence, and perseverance. He must act from lofty and
pure motives. He must be mild and firm, intrepid and compliant. One
perfectly qualified for the office it is desirable, but not possible,
to find. A dispassionate and honest zeal in the cause of duty and
humanity may be of eminent utility. Am I not endowed with this zeal?
Cannot my feeble efforts obviate some portion of this evil?
No one has hitherto claimed this disgustful and perilous situation. My
powers and discernment are small, but if they be honestly exerted they
cannot fail to be somewhat beneficial.
The impulse produced by these reflections was to hasten to the City
Hall, and make known my wishes. This impulse was controlled by
recollections of my own indisposition, and of the state of Wallace. To
deliver this youth to his friends was the strongest obligation. When
this was discharged, I might return to the city, and acquit myself of
more comprehensive duties.
Wallace had now enjoyed a few hours' rest, and was persuaded to begin
the journey. It was now noonday, and the sun darted insupportable rays.
Wallace was more sensible than I of their unwholesome influence. We had
not reached the suburbs, when his strength was wholly exhausted, and,
had I not supported him, he would have sunk upon the pavement.
My limbs were scarcely less weak, but my resolutions were much more
strenuous than his. I made light of his indisposition, and endeavoured
to persuade him that his vigour would return in proportion to his
distance from the city. The moment we should reach a shade, a short
respite would restore us to health and cheerfulness.
Nothing could revive his courage or induce him to go on. To return or to
proceed was equally impracticable. But, should he be able to return,
where should he find a retreat? The danger of relapse was imminent; his
own chamber at Thetford's was unoccupied. If he could regain this house,
might I not procure him a physician and perform for him the part of
nurse?
His present situation was critical and mournful. To remain in the
street, exposed to the malignant fervours of the sun, was not to be
endured. To carry him in my arms exceeded my strength. Should I not
claim the assistance of the first passenger that appeared?
At that moment a horse and chaise passed us. The vehicle proceeded at a
quick pace. He that rode in it might afford us the succour that we
needed. He might be persuaded to deviate from his course and convey the
helpless Wallace to the house we had just left.
This thought instantly impelled me forward. Feeble as I was, I even ran
with speed, in order to overtake the vehicle. My purpose was effected
with the utmost difficulty. It fortunately happened that the carriage
contained but one person, who stopped at my request. His countenance and
guise was mild and encouraging.
"Good friend," I exclaimed, "here is a young man too indisposed to walk.
I want him carried to his lodgings. Will you, for money or for charity,
allow him a place in your chaise, and set him down where I shall
direct?" Observing tokens of hesitation, I continued, "You need have no
fears to perform this office. He is not sick, but merely feeble. I will
not ask twenty minutes, and you may ask what reward you think proper."
Still he hesitated to comply. His business, he said, had not led him
into the city. He merely passed along the skirts of it, whence he
conceived that no danger would arise. He was desirous of helping the
unfortunate; but he could not think of risking his own life in the cause
of a stranger, when he had a wife and children depending on his
existence and exertions for bread. It gave him pain to refuse, but he
thought his duty to himself and to others required that he should not
hazard his safety by compliance.
This plea was irresistible. The mildness of his manner showed that he
might have been overpowered by persuasion or tempted by reward. I would
not take advantage of his tractability; but should have declined his
assistance, even if it had been spontaneously offered. I turned away
from him in silence, and prepared to return to the spot where I had left
my friend. The man prepared to resume his way.
In this perplexity, the thought occurred to me that, since this person
was going into the country, he might, possibly, consent to carry Wallace
along with him. I confided greatly in the salutary influence of rural
airs. I believed that debility constituted the whole of his complaint;
that continuance in the city might occasion his relapse, or, at least,
procrastinate his restoration.
I once more addressed myself to the traveller, and inquired in what
direction and how far he was going. To my unspeakable satisfaction, his
answer informed me that his home lay beyond Mr. Hadwin's, and that this
road carried him directly past that gentleman's door. He was willing to
receive Wallace into his chaise, and to leave him at his uncle's.
This joyous and auspicious occurrence surpassed my fondest hopes. I
hurried with the pleasing tidings to Wallace, who eagerly consented to
enter the carriage. I thought not at the moment of myself, or how far
the same means of escaping from my danger might be used. The stranger
could not be anxious on my account; and Wallace's dejection and weakness
may apologize for his not soliciting my company, or expressing his fears
for my safety. He was no sooner seated, than the traveller hurried away.
I gazed after them, motionless and mute, till the carriage, turning a
corner, passed beyond my sight.
I had now leisure to revert to my own condition, and to ruminate on that
series of abrupt and diversified events that had happened during the few
hours which had been passed in the city: the end of my coming was thus
speedily and satisfactorily accomplished. My hopes and fears had rapidly
fluctuated; but, respecting this young man, had now subsided into calm
and propitious certainty. Before the decline of the sun, he would enter
his paternal roof, and diffuse ineffable joy throughout that peaceful
and chaste asylum.
This contemplation, though rapturous and soothing, speedily gave way to
reflections on the conduct which my duty required, and the safe
departure of Wallace afforded me liberty, to pursue. To offer myself as
a superintendent of the hospital was still my purpose. The languors of
my frame might terminate in sickness, but this event it was useless to
anticipate. The lofty site and pure airs of Bush Hill might tend to
dissipate my languors and restore me to health. At least while I had
power, I was bound to exert it to the wisest purposes. I resolved to
seek the City Hall immediately, and, for that end, crossed the
intermediate fields which separated Sassafras from Chestnut Street.
More urgent considerations had diverted my attention from the money
which I bore about me, and from the image of the desolate lady to whom
it belonged. My intentions, with regard to her, were the same as ever;
but now it occurred to me, with new force, that my death might preclude
an interview between us, and that it was prudent to dispose, in some
useful way, of the money which would otherwise be left to the sport of
chance.
The evils which had befallen this city were obvious and enormous. Hunger
and negligence had exasperated the malignity and facilitated the
progress of the pestilence. Could this money be more usefully employed
than in alleviating these evils? During my life, I had no power over it,
but my death would justify me in prescribing the course which it should
take.
How was this course to be pointed out? How might I place it, so that I
should effect my intentions without relinquishing the possession during
my life?
These thoughts were superseded by a tide of new sensations. The weight
that incommoded my brows and my stomach was suddenly increased. My brain
was usurped by some benumbing power, and my limbs refused to support me.
My pulsations were quickened, and the prevalence of fever could no
longer be doubted.
Till now, I had entertained a faint hope that my indisposition would
vanish of itself. This hope was at an end. The grave was before me, and
my projects of curiosity or benevolence were to sink into oblivion. I
was not bereaved of the powers of reflection. The consequences of lying
in the road, friendless and unprotected, were sure. The first passenger
would notice me, and hasten to summon one of those carriages which are
busy night and day in transporting its victims to the hospital.
This fate was, beyond all others, abhorrent to my imagination. To hide
me under some roof, where my existence would be unknown and unsuspected,
and where I might perish unmolested and in quiet, was my present wish.
Thetford's or Medlicote's might afford me such an asylum, if it were
possible to reach it.
I made the most strenuous exertions; but they could not carry me forward
more than a hundred paces. Here I rested on steps, which, on looking up,
I perceived to belong to Welbeck's house.
This incident was unexpected. It led my reflections into a new train. To
go farther, in the present condition of my frame, was impossible. I was
well acquainted with this dwelling. All its avenues were closed. Whether
it had remained unoccupied since my flight from it, I could not decide.
It was evident that, at present, it was without inhabitants. Possibly it
might have continued in the same condition in which Welbeck had left it.
Beds or sofas might be found, on which a sick man might rest, and be
fearless of intrusion.
This inference was quickly overturned by the obvious supposition that
every avenue was bolted and locked. This, however, might not be the
condition of the bath-house, in which there was nothing that required to
be guarded with unusual precautions. I was suffocated by inward and
scorched by external heat; and the relief of bathing and drinking
appeared inestimable.
The value of this prize, in addition to my desire to avoid the
observation of passengers, made me exert all my remnant of strength.
Repeated efforts at length enabled me to mount the wall; and placed me,
as I imagined, in security. I swallowed large draughts of water as soon
as I could reach the well.
The effect was, for a time, salutary and delicious. My fervours were
abated, and my faculties relieved from the weight which had lately
oppressed them. My present condition was unspeakably more advantageous
than the former. I did not believe that it could be improved, till,
casting my eye vaguely over the building, I happened to observe the
shutters of a lower window partly opened.
Whether this was occasioned by design or by accident there was no means
of deciding. Perhaps, in the precipitation of the latest possessor, this
window had been overlooked. Perhaps it had been unclosed by violence,
and afforded entrance to a robber. By what means soever it had
happened, it undoubtedly afforded ingress to me. I felt no scruple in
profiting by this circumstance. My purposes were not dishonest. I should
not injure or purloin any thing. It was laudable to seek a refuge from
the well-meant persecutions of those who governed the city. All I sought
was the privilege of dying alone.
Having gotten in at the window, I could not but remark that the
furniture and its arrangements had undergone no alteration in my
absence. I moved softly from one apartment to another, till at length I
entered that which had formerly been Welbeck's bedchamber.
The bed was naked of covering. The cabinets and closets exhibited their
fastenings broken. Their contents were gone. Whether these appearances
had been produced by midnight robbers, or by the ministers of law and
the rage of the creditors of Welbeck, was a topic of fruitless
conjecture.
My design was now effected. This chamber should be the scene of my
disease and my refuge from the charitable cruelty of my neighbours. My
new sensations conjured up the hope that my indisposition might prove a
temporary evil. Instead of pestilential or malignant fever, it might be
a harmless intermittent. Time would ascertain its true nature;
meanwhile, I would turn the carpet into a coverlet, supply my pitcher
with water, and administer without sparing, and without fear, that
remedy which was placed within my reach.