"I fear," continued she, "he is going to ruin, and will drag your
father down the same precipice."
"Dearest madam! what new circumstance?"
"Nothing very new. It seems Mr. Frazer--his wife told the story--sold
him, a twelvemonth ago, a curricle and pair of horses. Part of the money,
after some delay, was paid. The rest was dunned for unavailingly a long
time. At length curricle and horses scoured the roads under the management
of Monsieur Petitgrave, brother to Frank's _housekeeper_, the
handsome mustec. This gave Frazer uneasiness, and some importunity
extorted from Frank a note, which, being due _last Tuesday_, was, at
Frank's importunity, withdrawn from bank to prevent protest. Next day,
however, it was paid."
I ventured to ask if Mrs. Frazer had mentioned any sum. "Yes; a round
sum,--_five hundred dollars_."
Fortunately the dark prevented my mother from perceiving my confusion.
It was Tuesday evening on which I had lent the money to Frank. He had
given me reason to believe that his embarrassments arose from his
cotton-weaving scheme, and that the sum demanded from me was to pay
the wages of craving but worthy labourers.
While in the first tumult of these reflections, some one brought a
letter. It was from my brother. This was the tenor:--
"I fear, Jane, I have gained but little credit with you for
punctuality. I ought to have fulfilled my promise, you will say. I will
not excuse my breach of it by saying (though I might say so, perhaps, with
truth) that you have no use for the money; that I have pressing use for
it, and that a small delay, without being of any importance to you, will
be particularly convenient to me. No; the true and all-sufficient reason
why I did not return the money was--because I had it not. To convince you
that I am really in need, I enclose you a check for another five hundred,
which you'll much oblige me by signing. I can repay you both sums together
by Saturday,--if you needs must have it so soon. The bearer waits."
In any state of my thoughts, there was little likelihood of my
complying with a request made in these terms. With my present feelings, it
was difficult to forbear returning an angry and reproachful answer. I sent
him back these lines:--
"I am thoroughly convinced that it is not in my power to afford you any
effectual aid in your present difficulties. It will be very easy to injure
myself. The request you make can have no other tendency. I must therefore
decline complying."
The facility with which I had yielded up my first resolutions probably
encouraged him to this second application, and I formed very solemn
resolutions not to be seduced a second time.
In a few minutes after despatching my answer, he appeared. I need not
repeat our conversation. He extorted from me, without much difficulty,
what I had heard through my mother, and--methinks I am ashamed to confess
it--by exchanging his boisterous airs for pathetic ones, by appealing to
my sisterly affection and calling me his angel and saviour, and especially
by solemnly affirming that Frazer's story was a calumny, I at length did
as he would have me: yet only for _three_ hundred; I would not go
beyond that sum.
The moment he left me, I perceived the weakness and folly of my conduct
in the strongest light, I renewed all my prudent determinations; yet,
strange to tell, within less than a week, the same scene of earnest
importunity on his side, and of foolish flexibility on mine, was
reacted.
With every new instance of folly, my shame and selfcondemnation
increased, and the more difficult I found it to disclose the truth to my
mother.
In the course of a very few days, one-half of my little property was
gone. A sum sufficient, according to my system of economy, to give me
decent independence of the world for at least three years, had been
dissipated by the prodigality of a profligate woman. At the time, indeed,
I was ignorant of this. It was impossible not to pay some regard to the
plausible statements and vehement asseverations of my brother, and to
suffer them to weigh something against charges which might possibly be
untrue. As soon as accident had put me in full possession of the truth on
this head, I was no longer thus foolishly obsequious.
The next morning after our last interview I set out, as usual, to bid
good-morrow to my father. My uneasy thoughts led me unaware to extend my
walk, till I reached the door of a watchmaker with whom my servant had,
some time before, left a watch to be repaired. It occurred to me that,
since I was now on the spot, I might as well stop and make some inquiry
about it. On entering the shop I almost repented of my purpose, as two
persons were within the bar, if I may call it so, seated in a lounging
posture, by a small stove, smoking cigars and gazing at me with an air of
indolent impertinence. I determined to make my stay as short as possible,
and hurried over a few questions to the artist, who knew me only as the
owner of the watch. My attention was quickly roused by one of the
loungers, who, having satisfied his curiosity by gazing at me, turned to
the other and said, "Well, you have hardly been to Frank's this morning, I
suppose?"
"Indeed, but I have," was the reply.
"Why, damn it, you pinch too hard. Well, and what success?"
"Why, what do you think?"
"Another _put-off_; another _call-again_, to-be-sure."
"I would not go till he downed with the stuff."
"No!" (with a broad stare;) "it a'n't possible."
"Seeing is believing, I hope;" (producing a piece of paper.)
"Why, so it is. A check!--but--what's that name?--let's see,"
(stooping to examine the signature:)--"_Jane Talbot_. Who the devil
is she?"
"Don't you know her? She's his sister. A devilish rich girl."
"But how? does _she_ lend him money?"
"Yes, to-be-sure. She's his sister, you know."
"But how does she get money? Is she a widow?"
"No. She is a girl, I've heard, not eighteen. 'Tis not my look-out how
she gets money, so as her check's good; and that I'll fix as soon as the
door's open."
"Why, damn it if I don't think it a forgery. How should such a girl as
that get so much money?"
"Can't conceive. Coax or rob her aunt of it, I suppose. If she's such
another as Frank, she is able to outwit the devil. I hope it may be good.
If it isn't, he sha'n't be his own man one day longer."
"But how did you succeed so well?"
"He asked me yesterday to call once more. So I called, you see,
betimes, and, finding that he had a check for a little more than my debt,
I teased him out of it, promising to give him the balance. I pity the
fellow from my soul. It was all for trinkets and furniture bought by that
prodigal jade, Mademoiselle Couteau. She would ruin a prince, if she had
him as much at her command as she has Frank. Little does the sister know
for what purpose she gives her money: however, that, as I said before, be
her look-out."
During this dialogue, my eye was fixed upon the artist, who, with the
watch open in one hand, and a piece of wire in the other, was describing,
with great formality, the exact nature of the defect and the whole process
of the cure; but, though I looked steadfastly at him, I heard not a
syllable of his dissertation. I broke away when his first pause allowed
me.
The strongest emotion in my heart was resentment. That my name should
be prostituted by the foul mouths of such wretches, and my money be
squandered for the gratification of a meretricious vagabond, were
indignities not to be endured. I was carried involuntarily towards my
brother's house. I had lost all that awe in his presence and trepidation
at his scorn which had formerly been so troublesome. His sarcasms or
revilings had become indifferent to me, as every day's experience had of
late convinced me that in no valuable attribute was he anywise superior to
his sister. The consciousness of having been deceived and wronged by him
set me above both his anger and his flattery. I was hastening to his house
to give vent to my feelings, when a little consideration turned my steps
another way. I recollected that I should probably meet his companion, and
that was an encounter which I had hitherto carefully avoided. I went,
according to my first design, to my father's; I was in hopes of meeting
Frank there some time in the day, or of being visited by him at Mrs.
Fielder's.
My soul was in a tumult that unfitted me for conversation. I felt
hourly-increasing remorse at having concealed my proceedings from my
mother. I imagined that, had I treated her from the first with the
confidence due to her, I should have avoided all my present difficulties.
Now the obstacles to confidence appeared insurmountable, and my only
consolation was, that by inflexible resolution I might shun any new cause
for humiliation and regret.
I had purposed to spend the greater part of the day at my father's,
chiefly in the hope of a meeting with my brother; but, after dinner, my
mother sent for me home. Something, methought, very extraordinary, must
have happened, as my mother was well: as, according to the messenger's
account, she had just parted with a gentleman who seemed to have visited
her on private business, my heart misgave me.
As soon as I got home, my mother took me into her chamber, and told me,
after an affecting preface, that a gentleman in office at ---- Bank had
called on her and informed her that checks of my signing to a very large
amount had lately been offered, and that the last made its appearance
to-day, and was presented by a man with whom it was highly disreputable
for one in my condition to be thought to have any sort of intercourse.
You may suppose that, after this introduction, I made haste to explain
every particular. My mother was surprised and grieved. She rebuked me,
with some asperity, for my reserves. Had I acquainted her with my
brother's demands, she could have apprized me of all that I had since
discovered. My brother, she asserted, was involved beyond any one's power
to extricate him, and his temper, his credulity, were such that he was
forever doomed to poverty.
I had scarcely parted with my mother on this occasion, to whom I had
promised to refer every future application, when my brother made his
appearance. I was prepared to overwhelm him with upbraidings for his past
conduct, but found my tongue tied in his presence. I could not bear to
inflict so much shame and mortification; and besides, the past being
irrevocable, it would only aggravate the disappointment which I was
determined every future application should meet with. After some vague
apology for non-payment, he applied for a new loan. He had borrowed, he
said, of a deserving man, a small sum, which he was now unable to repay.
The poor fellow was in narrow circumstances; was saddled with a numerous
family; had been prevailed upon to lend, after extreme urgency on my
brother's part; was now driven to the utmost need, and by a prompt
repayment would probably be saved from ruin. A minute and plausible
account of the way in which the debt originated, and his inability to
repay it shown to have proceeded from no fault of his.
I repeatedly endeavoured to break off the conversation, by abruptly
leaving the room; but he detained me by importunity, by holding my hand,
by standing against the door.
How irresistible is supplication! The glossings and plausibilities of
eloquence are inexhaustible. I found my courage wavering. After a few
ineffectual struggles, I ceased to contend. He saw that little remained to
complete his conquest; and, to effect that little, by convincing me that
his tale was true, he stepped out a moment, to bring in his creditor,
whose anxiety had caused him to accompany Frank to the door.
This momentary respite gave me time to reflect. I ran through the door,
now no longer guarded; up-stairs I flew into my mother's chamber, and told
her from what kind of persecution I had escaped.
While I was speaking, some one knocked at the door. It was a servant,
despatched by my brother to summon me back. My mother went in my stead. I
was left, for some minutes, alone.
So persuasive had been my brother's rhetoric, that I began to regret my
flight.
I felt something like compunction at having deprived him of an
opportunity to prove his assertions. Every gentle look and insinuating
accent reappeared to my memory, and I more than half repented my
inflexibility.
While buried in these thoughts, my mother returned. She told me that my
brother was gone, after repeatedly requesting an interview with me, and
refusing to explain his business to any other person.
"Was there anybody with him, madam?"
"Yes. One Clarges,--a jeweller,--an ill-looking, suspicious
person."
"Do you know any thing of this Clarges?"
"Nothing but what I am sorry to know. He is a dissolute fellow, who has
broken the hearts of two wives, and thrown his children for maintenance on
their maternal relations. 'Tis the same who carried your last check to the
bank."
I just then faintly recollected the name of Clarges, as having occurred
in the conversation at the watchmaker's, and as being the name of him who
had produced the paper. This, then, was the person who was to have been
introduced to me as the friend in need, the meritorious father of a
numerous family, whom the payment of a just debt was to relieve from
imminent ruin! How loathsome, how detestable, how insecure, are fraud and
treachery! Had he been confronted with me, no doubt he would have
recognised the person whom he stared at at the watch-maker's.
Next morning I received a note, dated on the preceding evening. These
were the terms of it:--
"I am sorry to say, Jane, that the ruin of a father and brother may
justly be laid at your door. Not to save them, when the means were in your
power, and when entreated to use the means, makes you the author of their
ruin. The crisis has come. Had you shown a little mercy, the crisis might
have terminated favourably. As it is, we are undone. You do not deserve to
know the place of my retreat. Your unsisterly heart will prompt you to
intercept rather than to aid or connive at my flight. Fly I must; whither,
it is pretty certain, will never come to your knowledge. Farewell."
My brother's disappearance, the immediate ruin of my father, whose
whole fortune was absorbed by debts contracted in his name, and for the
most part without his knowledge, the sudden affluence of the adventurer
who had suggested his projects to my brother, were the immediate
consequences of this event. To a man of my father's habits and views, no
calamity can be conceived greater than this. Never did I witness a more
sincere grief, a more thorough despair. Every thing he once possessed was
taken away from him and sold. My mother, however, prevented all the most
opprobrious effects of poverty, and all in my power to alleviate his
solitude, and console him in his distress, was done.
Would you have thought, after this simple relation, that there was any
room for malice and detraction to build up their inventions?
My brother was enraged that I refused to comply with any of his
demands; not grateful for the instances in which I did comply. Clarges
resented the disappointment of his scheme as much as if honour and
integrity had given him a title to success.
How many times has the story been told, and with what variety of
exaggeration, that the sister refused to lend her brother money, when she
had plenty at command, and when a seasonable loan would have prevented the
ruin of her family, while, at the same time, she had such an appetite for
toys and baubles, that ere yet she was eighteen years old she ran in debt
to Clarges the jeweller for upwards of five hundred dollars'-worth!
You are the only person to whom I have thought myself bound to tell the
whole truth. I do not think my reluctance to draw the follies of my
brother from oblivion a culpable one. I am willing to rely, for my
justification from malicious charges, on the general tenor of my actions,
and am scarcely averse to buy my brother's reputation at the cost of my
own. The censure of the undistinguishing and undistinguished multitude
gives me little uneasiness. Indeed, the disapprobation of those who have
no particular connection with us is a very faint, dubious, and momentary
feeling. We are thought of, now and then, by chance, and immediately
forgotten. Their happiness is unaffected by the sentence casually
pronounced on us, and we suffer nothing, since it scarcely reaches our
ears, and the interval between the judge and the culprit hinders it from
having any influence on their actions. Not so when the censure reaches
those who love us. The charge engrosses their attention, influences their
happiness, and regulates their deportment towards us. My self-regard, and
my regard for you, equally lead me to vindicate myself to you from any
charge, however chimerical or obsolete it may be.
My brother went to France. He seemed disposed to forget that he ever
had kindred or country; never informed us of his situation and views. All
our tidings of him came to us indirectly. In this way we heard that he
procured a commission in the republican troops, had made some fortunate
campaigns, and had enriched himself by lucky speculations in the forfeited
estates.
My mother was informed, by some one lately returned from Paris, that
Frank had attained possession of the whole property of an emigrant Compte
de Puysegur, who was far from being the poorest of the ancient nobles;
that he lived? with princely luxury, in the count's hotel; that he had
married, according to the new mode, the compte's sister, and was probably,
for the remainder of his life, a Frenchman. He is attentive to his
countrymen, and this reporter partook of several entertainments at his
house.
Methinks the memory of past incidents must sometimes intrude upon his
thoughts. Can he have utterly forgotten the father whom he reduced to
indigence, whom he sent to a premature grave? Amidst his present opulence,
one would think it would occur to him to inquire into the effects of his
misconduct, not only to his own family, but on others.
What a strange diversity there is among human characters! Frank is, I
question not, gay, volatile, impetuous as ever. The jovial carousal and
the sound sleep are never molested, I dare say, by the remembrance of the
incidents I have related to you.
Methinks, had I the same heavy charges to make against my conscience, I
should find no refuge but death from the goadings of remorse. To have
abandoned a father to the jail or the hospital, or to the charity of
strangers,--a father too who had yielded him an affection and a trust
without limits; to have wronged a sister out of the little property on
which she relied for support to her unprotected youth or helpless age,--a
sister who was virtually an orphan, who had no natural claim upon her
present patroness, but might be dismissed penniless from the house that
sheltered her, without exposing the self-constituted mother to any
reproach.
And has not this event taken place already? What can I expect but that,
at _least_, it will take place as soon as she hears of my resolution
with regard to thee? She ought to know it immediately. I myself ought to
tell it, and this was one of the tasks which I designed to perform in your
absence: yet, alas! I know not how to set about it.
My fingers are for once thoroughly weary. I must lay down the pen. But
first; why don't I hear from you? Every day since Sunday, when you left
me, have I despatched an enormous packet, and have not received a sentence
in answer. 'Tis not well done, my friend, to forget and neglect me thus.
You gave me some reason, indeed, to expect no very sudden tidings from
you; but there is inexpiable treason in the silence of four long days. If
you do not offer substantial excuses for this delay, woe be to thee!
Take this letter, and expect not another syllable from my pen till I
hear from you.