——I will not attempt to describe my agitations!—“In order to relieve
these emotions,” continued he, “I will ease your suspence. I have seen a
person who has brought me intelligence of Duncan. A stranger was
introduced to me, at a coffee-house last night, as wanting to know and
speak to me. He announced himself as the super-cargo of a Dutch ship,
now in the Thames, and said, that he was charged with a commission for
me, by a gentleman whom he had known at Surinam. I instantly ordered a
private room, and he informed me, that he had first seen Duncan at
Amsterdam; had there learned enough of his story to pity him; and that
he made the voyage to Surinam with him. His unfortunate condition and
deep dejection, during our passage,” added this man, “more and more
interested my feelings, for one whose education and manners had promised
a very different career. I was happily disposed to befriend him; and as,
fortunately, I had the means of so doing, for I recommended him to a
merchant there, who received him into his counting house. But the fever
of the climate seized him before he had been a fortnight on shore. He
saw his danger, and had, as it appears, been preparing for it. He gave
into my hands the picture of a young lady, which he wore in his bosom,
with a parcel, in which he informed me was contained some letters of the
lady’s, with one for you. He conjured me to deliver these to you in
person, knowing that our ship was bound to this port on her return. I
promised to observe his instructions, and I have only further to add,
Sir, that knowing, as I do, the love he cherished for the lady, whom he
blessed with his last breath, I think it right to hint to you some
precautions in acquainting her with my poor friend’s death.” “You may
suppose I satisfied him on this point,” continued my brother, and I
endeavoured to sift out of him, whether he knew the whole of Duncan’s
adventures and secrets. “It was an unhappy business,” observed I, “that
obliged this unfortunate young man to quit England and his friends, who
were able and not indisposed to serve him, had he not been too
precipitate: his flight was nearly the death of the young woman in
question. You surprise me, by telling me that his attachment for her
continued. Did he often speak of her?” “Never,” replied he, “Nor do I
even know her name or address. When, in nearly his last hour, he gave me
her picture from his bosom, and said, Mr. Flamall knows for whom it is
destined. He will take care to tell the unfortunate injured object of my
love, that Charles Duncan has expiated all his errors, by _dying_, and
leaving her _free_.—I said, with seriousness, that the most fatal of
Duncan’s errors had been that of not knowing his best friend; a mistake,
however, which had not been shared by the young lady, whose heart he had
gained; for, that she still looked up to me for friendship and
consolation. Our conversation finished by settling our next meeting for
this morning. I have just left him, satisfied, as I believe, that Duncan
had in me a friend as generous as himself. There is your picture and
this packet of your letters, with one for me, which I have just received
from the gentleman. I will leave it for your perusal when you are able.”
He quitted me, unable to witness my distress. My Duncan’s letter I shall
copy.
LETTER LIV.
_Charles Duncan to Mr. Flamall._
“Before this reaches your hand I shall be numbered with those in the
grave, and appear before that awful Tribunal, at which mercy has her
everlasting post. There, and there only, does Charles Duncan expect to
find justice; for then alone, will his errors be weighed with his
difficulties. Enclosed is my will, in which I have left to _Harriet
Duncan, my lawful wife_, the whole and entire property bequeathed to me
by Margaret Duncan, my supposed mother, and the only friend I ever knew.
I have charged this, my property, with the payment of one hundred and
fifty pounds to Mynheer Adrian Vandergucht, my last benefactor. This sum
has been partly advanced for my necessities; he will, with this, produce
my acknowledgment for the receipt of one hundred pounds. I bequeath to
him _fifty_, as a debt of gratitude for kindnesses which none can fully
repay but his Maker; and to his blessing and mercy do I fervently
recommend him.”
“From what Mrs. Duncan repeatedly declared to me, and also from your
conversations with me, on the subject of my little fortune, I conclude
that my wife will receive three thousand pounds as her future provision.
It may be, this pittance will be shared by my child. Let it be your
care, Sir, faithfully to discharge a trust, for the due performance of
which, you will one day be called to a strict account by a Being more to
be dreaded than,