Think, Louisa, what must be the effect of such a letter, coming at such
a moment!--I believe I was in no danger; though, if there be a man on
the face of the earth more dangerous than any other, it is surely
Clifton. But the watchful spirit of Frank seems placed like my guardian
angel, to protect me from all possible harm.
My mind debated for a moment whether it were not wrong to distrust the
power of truth and virtue, and not to let Mr. Clifton see I could
demolish the audacious sophistry by which he had endeavoured to
confound and overwhelm me. But my ideas were deranged, and I could not
collect sufficient fortitude. Oh how dangerous is this confusion of the
judgment, and how desirable that heavenly presence of mind which is
equal to these great these trying occasions! I therefore thought it
more prudent to suffer him to depart, and suspect vilely of me, than to
encounter the rude contest which he would more audaciously recommence,
were I to send away Mrs. Clarke, which he might even misconstrue into a
signal of approbation. These fears prevailed, and I desired her to
stay, and by my manner told him I wished his absence.
Louisa, how shall I describe my anguish of heart at seeing all those
hopes of a mind so extraordinary, for extraordinary it is even in
guilt, at once overthrown? It was indeed iteration of anguish! What!
Can guile so perfectly assume the garb of sincerity? Can hypocrisy
wear so impenetrable a mask? How shall we distinguish? What guide
have we? How be certain that the next seeming virtuous man we meet
is not a--Well, well, Louisa--I will remember--Brother. My Louisa
knows it is not from the person, but from the vice that I turn away
with disgust. Would I willingly give her heart a pang? Let her tell
me if she can suspect it. She has fortitude, she has affection; but
it is an affection for virtue, truth, and justice. She will endeavour
to reform error the most obdurate. So will I, so will all that are
worthy the high office. But she will not wish me either to marry with
or to countenance this error. Marry?--how does my soul shudder at the
thought! His reasoning was just; seduction would have been a petty
injury, or rather a blessing, compared to this master evil! He was
most merciful when he meant me, as he thought, most destruction. I
have been guilty of a great error. The reformation of man or woman
by projects of marriage is a mistaken a pernicious attempt. Instead
of being an act of morality, I am persuaded it is an act of vice. Let
us never cease our endeavours to reform the licentious and the
depraved, but let us not marry them.
The letter had not been delivered more than two hours before Frank
arrived. You may think, Louisa, how hard he had ridden; but he refused
to imagine himself fatigued. He brought another letter, which Abimelech
had received, but which for some hours he obstinately refused to give
up, and for this reason Frank sent off the express. A letter, not of
Clifton's writing, but of his invention and sending!
Finding that Frank was likely to prevail on his father to raise the
money for Sir Arthur, and obviate all further impediments to our
marriage, Clifton, fearful that it should take place, wrote anonymously
to Abimelech, to inform him I was in love with Frank, and to encourage
him to persist. But read the letter yourself; the following is a true
copy of it[1].
[Footnote 1: The reader has already perused it in Letter XCIV, to which
he is referred.].
If such a letter be his, I am sure, Louisa, you will not say I have
thought or spoken too unkindly of him; and that it is his we have
indubitable proof, though it was anonymous and not in his handwriting.
You no doubt remember, Louisa, the short story of the English lad, whom
your brother hired at Paris. It was written by him, though innocently
and without knowing what was intended. This lad has an aunt, who after
having laboured to old age is now lame, infirm, and in need of support.
The active Frank has been with her, has aided her with money and
consoled her with kindness. The lad himself was desirous of assisting
her; and Frank, willing to encourage industry in the young, gave him
some writings to copy at his leisure hours. By this accident he knew
the lad's hand-writing.
I forgot to mention, in its proper place, the astonishment of Frank at
the sudden change in his father, and the firm resolution he took to
discover the cause of this change. The obstinacy of Abimelech was
extreme; but Frank was still more pertinacious, more determined, and so
unwearied and incessant, in his attacks on his father, that the old man
at last could resist no longer, and shewed him this letter.
From what has preceded, that is from his manner of acting, you may well
imagine what the alarms and sensations of Frank were. He brought the
letter up with him, for he would not trust it out of his own custody,
and immediately went himself to Clifton's stables in search of the lad,
brought him to me, and then first shewed him the letter, which that no
possible collusion might be alleged he had left in my keeping, and then
asked if it were not his hand-writing. The lad very frankly and
unhesitatingly answered it was; except the direction, which this
plotting Clifton had procured to be written by some other person.
Without telling the lad more than was necessary, Frank advised him to
quit his service, for that there was something relating to that letter
which would certainly occasion a quarrel, and perhaps worse, between
him and his master: and, as it would be prudent for him to keep out of
the way, he sent him down to Wenbourne-Hill, where the lad is at
present.
And now what shall I say to my Louisa? How shall I sooth the feelings
of my friend? Do they need soothing? Does she consider all mankind as
her relations and brothers, or does she indeed imagine that one whose
principles are so opposite to her own is the only brother she
possesses? Will she grieve more for him than she would for any other,
who should be equally unfortunate in error? Or does she doubt with me
whether grief can in any possible case be a virtue? And if so, is there
any virtue of which she is incapable? What is relation, what is
brother, what is self, if relation, brother, or self be at war with
truth? And does not truth command us to consider beings exactly as they
are, without any respect to this relationship, this self?
But I know my Louisa; she will never be impatient under trial, however
severe; nor foolishly repine for the past, though she will strenuously
labour for the future.
All good, all peace, all happiness, all wisdom be with her!