_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_
_London, Dover Street_
Sir Arthur arrived in town this morning. He brought the usurer Henley
up with him in the same carriage.
Young St. Ives set out before them, and was in London last night. He
drove directly to my lodgings, and I was fortunately at home. This did
not look as if I were in the secret; and if he had any suspicions he
had not the courage to intimate them.
I condoled with him, said it was a strange affair, a riddle I could not
read, a mystery which time must elucidate, for it baffled all
conjecture. He did little more than echo me, and I pretended I would
have ridden half over the world to recover his sister, had there been
but the least clue; but there was not, and I found myself obliged to
sit still in despair and astonishment.
He said it was all very true, and he was very tired. He should
therefore drive home, get some refreshment, and go to bed. This fellow,
Fairfax, walks on two legs, looks the world in the face, and counts for
one on the muster-roll. 'But nature, crescent in him, grew only in
thews and bulk.' Yet on the parade, fools and gapers will mistake him
for a man.
Contention with Anna St. Ives is honourable, but to seem to shrink from
beings like these, or to practise concealment with such mere images of
entity, is repugnant to the generous scorn they merit and inspire.
Imperious necessity however prescribes law, and I took care to prevent
Sir Arthur's visit to me, by having notice sent me of his arrival, and
immediately going to the encounter.
To anticipate is to overturn the card-castles of this puny race. Come
upon them unexpectedly, stare at them undauntedly, and interrogate them
abruptly, and they are put to the rout. Their looks even intreat pardon
for the ill they thought, but durst not utter.
Sir Arthur I own beheld me with a suspicious eye; and though he
endeavoured to seem to credit me, he did it with an aukward air.
Mrs. Clarke hearing I was there came in, and exceeding even all her
former fervour, importuned me, in the most direct and vehement manner,
to tell what I had done with Mr. Henley and her dear young lady. She
more than ever disconcerted me. Her exuberant passion addressed itself
alternately to me and her master. Her tears as well as her words were
abundant, her urgency and ardour extreme, and she ended her apostrophe
with again conjuring me to tell what was become of her dear, dear young
lady!
'Ay, pray, pray do'--whimpered the baronet in a maudlin tone, moved by
the unfeigned passion of his housekeeper. I gave him a look, and the
driveller added--'if you know.'
I was glad of a pretence to get away, and after telling him the
distress of his mind was the only apology for his conduct, I instantly
quitted him, without any effort on his part to detain me.
Among other things, Mrs. Clarke repeatedly reproached herself for not
having written or sent to my sister; and the knight acknowledged--'Ay,
it was very neglectful! But his mind had been so disturbed that he had
forgotten it too!'
Why do I misapply my time on beings so imbecile? Maugre all my resolves
I have not seen her yet, Fairfax! Nor have I opened her letter! I dare
not. Her Henley I am sure is in it, and additional rage would be
indubitable madness! Neither is this the thing most to be feared. She
has an expanded heart, a capacious a benevolent heart, and she may have
said something which were I to see, and yet do the deed which shall be
done, it might shew me more fiend-like than even the foul reflection of
my present thoughts. Perturbation has done its work; it needs no
increase. This quality of benevolence, in which they both glory, is
torture to recollect. I say, Fairfax, I never asked their charity. Did
I not spurn it from me, the moment I was insulted by the offer? Be pity
bestowed on beggars: the partiality that springs from affection, or the
punishment due to neglect for me!
I will be with her speedily, Fairfax! Though I linger, I do not relent.
Such mercy as the being out of doubt can bestow she shall receive; the
pleading world should not wring a greater from me!