(_Enclosed in Mr. Paget’s._)
_To Mr. Flamall._
Shouldest thou start, Flamall, at the sight of these well known
characters, for my hand, like my heart, has but _one_ for my purposes.
Should thy knees tremble, and the blood recede in terror from thy cheek,
bless Heaven! Hail these indications of its mercy! Thou hast not yet
outlived humanity, thou art not yet abandoned to everlasting
destruction. Be it so! Oh God, infinite in goodness, almighty in power!
Were I certain, Flamall, that with the form of man there were yet one
single spark left unextinguished of _the spirit of a man_, I would
invite thee to my dying couch, for it is near thee. I would bid thee
compare it with thy nightly bed of prosperous villany. And here settle
those accounts of the guardianship and _gains_. Though for years in
bondage, I have been free from guilt. No parent will demand from me a
ruined oppressed son; no confederate in vice and cruelty and treachery
will point _to me_ as the betrayer of his soul! But thou wilt recall to
memory the issue of thy crimes; and the names of thy agents in mischief.
I die in peace. My wife knows my innocence and my wrongs. If it be
needful for thy repentance, apply to her; and with the tale of thy
brotherly care, of an innocent, and virtuous orphan-sister, thou mayest
have the relation of the woes thou hast inflicted on thy _ward Charles_.
Detain not the messenger: I wait his return to breathe my last sigh on
his faithful bosom. Thou hast been defeated, Flamall! The tear of
affection will fall on my remains; and I shall be remembered as one who
has not lived to be the fell destroyer of my fellow-man, nor as one
abandoned by his Maker.
LETTER LXVII.
_From Mr. Flamall to Mr. Philip Flint._
(_Enclosed in Mr. Paget’s._)
Horror! unutterable horror! anguish, despair! Twist not thus my brain!
he is dead! and died with his hopes! expecting to be welcomed in a new
existence, by assembled angels, hailed by spirits like his own, and
received by a God of mercy who will recompense his long sufferings and
faith.—Delusions all! The tales of the nursery made up for children! I
reject them. When these atoms which compose this palpitating frame are
disunited I shall be at peace: for I shall be _nothing_. But wherefore
do I pause? What is to me the world to which I now cleave? Why does my
heart turn to thee, Philip? I know thou _also_ abhorrest me, yet I would
not have thee curse me, for of all men, I have a claim to thy pity. I
love thee still. I would bless thee, but I dare not. For if there be a
God, whose awful indignation takes cognizance of sin; my blessing would
be converted into a malediction on thy head. Blot me from thy memory;
acknowledge not the name of Flamall, nor permit thy children to know,
that I was once thy guide, thy friend——Nay——Distraction! Why do I
hesitate——
_Mr. Paget in continuation._
It is needless to make any comments on the foregoing letters. It is but
too apparent, that Flamall was the aggressor; beyond this all is
conjecture. We have, on our part, acted with caution. Captain Nelson has
been questioned closely, as to his knowledge of the person, supposed to
have been the cause of the dreadful end of Mr. Flamall. He repeated, on
oath, his evidence in favour of this unknown, and adhered to the account
he had before given me of his acquaintance with him; adding, that he had
not a doubt of his having been an injured man. His sorrow, for his loss,
was not concealed; for he even shed tears, and with an oath affirmed,
that not only himself but every man in his ship had lost a brother. Poor
George was with him, and looked the picture of despair: he was examined
also: he had never heard his father and protector name Mr. Flamall until
the morning he gave him the letter. Not a single paper was found in his
chest, except a note, in which he gives, with his blessing, his little
property of clothes, linen, and a few books to this boy. Thus, has every
enquiry terminated. I cannot help believing, that you will be gratified
by knowing, that Captain Nelson means to protect the lad in question.
Mr. Flamall has been careful to leave no traces behind him, that may
help to elucidate this mystery, or throw a light on any other of his
private concerns. Not a paper, nor a letter escaped his vigilant
cautions. Juba tells us, that from the time his nephew’s marriage was
announced, he has suspected his mind to have been deranged at times, and
that he was continually reading and burning letters and papers when in
his room. One striking proof of his former connexion with the
unfortunate stranger, Charles, is much talked of. He called at the house
where he lodged and died; and to the enquiries he made concerning the
sick man, one of the servants answered, that he was dead. He said, he
wished to see him, having known him in his youth. The negro woman
attended him to the deceased man’s room. He looked attentively at the
corpse; appeared agitated, and sighing said, “his troubles are over.”
But such was the impression the object before him had produced, that he
left the house, and forgot his horse, which he had tied to the door he
had passed. A waiter perceiving it, followed him with the animal; he
mounting, and without speaking, put him on his full speed.