Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 2 (of 3), Page 4

  CHAPTER IV.

  The narrative of Melbourne made a deeper impression on the mind of hisguest than was at first apparent. This man's conduct was directed by thepresent impulse; and, however elaborate his abstract notions, he seldomstopped to settle the agreement between his principles and actions. Theuse of money was a science like every other branch of benevolence, notreducible to any fixed principles. No man, in the disbursement of money,could say whether he was conferring a benefit or injury. The visible andimmediate effects might be good, but evil was its ultimate and generaltendency. To be governed by a view to the present rather than the futurewas a human infirmity from which he did not pretend to be exempt. This,though an insufficient apology for the conduct of a rational being, wassuitable to his indolence, and he was content in all cases to employ it.It was thus that he reconciled himself to beneficent acts, andhumourously held himself up as an object of censure, on occasions whenmost entitled to applause.

  He easily procured information as to the character and situation of theDudleys. Neighbours are always inquisitive, and happily, in this case,were enabled to make no unfavourable report. He resolved withouthesitation to supply their wants. This he performed in a manner trulycharacteristic. There was a method of gaining access to families, andmarking them in their unguarded attitudes, more easy and effectual thanany other: it required least preparation and cost least pains; thedisguise, also, was of the most impenetrable kind. He had served a sortof occasional apprenticeship to the art, and executed its functions withperfect ease. It was the most entire and grotesque metamorphosisimaginable. It was stepping from the highest to the lowest rank insociety, and shifting himself into a form as remote from his own asthose recorded by Ovid. In a word, it was sometimes his practice toexchange his complexion and habiliments for those of a negro and achimney-sweep, and to call at certain doors for employment. This hegenerally secured by importunities, and the cheapness of his services.

  When the loftiness of his port, and the punctiliousness of his nicetywere considered, we should never have believed--what yet could be trulyasserted--that he had frequently swept his own chimneys, without theknowledge of his own servants.[1] It was likewise true, though equallyincredible, that he had played at romps with his scullion, and listenedwith patience to a thousand slanders on his own character.

  [1] Similar exploits are related of Count de la Lippe andWortley Montague.

  In this disguise he visited the house of Mr. Dudley. It was nine o'clockin the morning. He remarked with critical eyes, the minutestcircumstance in the appearance and demeanour of his customers, andglanced curiously at the house and furniture. Every thing was new andevery thing pleased. The walls, though broken into roughness bycarelessness or time, were adorned with glistening white. The floor,though loose and uneven, and with gaping seams, had received all theimprovements which cloth and brush could give. The pine tables, rushchairs, and uncurtained bed, had been purchased at half price, atvendue, and exhibited various tokens of decay; but care and neatness andorder were displayed in their condition and arrangement.

  The lower apartment was the eating and sitting room. It was likewiseMr. Dudley's bed chamber. The upper room was occupied by Constantia andLucy. Ormond viewed every thing with the accuracy of an artist, andcarried away with him a catalogue of every thing visible. The faded formof Mr. Dudley, that still retained its dignity, the sedateness, gracefulcondescension, and personal elegance of Constantia, were new to theapprehension of Ormond. The contrast between the house and itsinhabitants rendered the appearance more striking. When he had finishedhis task he retired, but returning in a quarter of an hour, he presenteda letter to the young lady. He behaved as if by no means desirous ofeluding her interrogatories, and, when she desired him to stay, readilycomplied. The letter, unsigned, and without superscription, was to thiseffect:--

  "The writer of this is acquainted with the transaction between ThomasCraig and Mr. Dudley. The former is debtor to Mr. Dudley in a largesum. I have undertaken to pay as much of this debt, and at such times,as suits my convenience. I have had pecuniary engagements with Craig. Ihold myself, in the sum enclosed, discharging so much of his debt. Thefuture payments are uncertain, but I hope they will contribute torelieve the necessities of Mr. Dudley."

  Ormond had calculated the amount of what would be necessary for theannual subsistence of this family on the present frugal plan. He hadregulated his disbursements accordingly.

  It was natural to feel curiosity as to the writer of this epistle. Thebearer displayed a prompt and talkative disposition. He had a staringeye and a grin of vivacity forever at command. When questioned byConstantia, he answered that the gentleman had forbidden him to mentionhis name or the place where he lived. Had he ever met with the sameperson before? O yes. He had lived with him from a child. His motherlived with him still, and his brothers. His master had nothing for himto do at home, so he sent him out sweeping chimneys, taking from himonly half the money that he earned that way. He was a very good master.

  "Then the gentleman had been a long time in the city?"

  "O yes. All his life he reckoned. Ho used to live in Walnut Street, butnow he's moved down town." Here he checked himself, and added,--"But Iforgets. I must not tell where he livest. He told me I must'nt."

  "He has a family and children, I suppose?"

  "O yes. Why, don't you know Miss Hetty and Miss Betsy? There again! Iwas going to tell the name, that he said I must not tell."

  Constantia saw that the secret might be easily discovered, but sheforbore. She disdained to take advantage of this messenger's imaginedsimplicity. She dismissed him with some small addition to his demand,and with a promise always to employ him in this way.

  By this mode Ormond had effectually concealed himself. The lady'sconjectures, founded on this delusive information, necessarily wanderedwidely from the truth. The observations that he had made during thisvisit afforded his mind considerable employment. The manner in whichthis lady had sustained so cruel a reverse of fortune, the cheerfulnesswith which she appeared to forego all the gratifications of affluence,the skill with which she selected her path of humble industry, and thesteadiness with which she pursued it, were proofs of a moralconstitution, from which he supposed the female sex to be debarred. Thecomparison was obvious between Constantia and Helena, and the result wasby no means advantageous to the latter. Was it possible that such a onedescended to the level of her father's apprentice? That she sacrificedher honour to a wretch like that? This reflection tended to repress theinclination he would otherwise have felt for cultivating her society,but it did not indispose him to benefit her in a certain way.

  On his next visit to his "Bella Siciliana," as he called her, hequestioned her as to the need in which she might stand of the servicesof a seamstress; and being informed that they were sometimes wanted, herecommended Miss Acworth to her patronage. He said that he had heard herspoken of in favourable terms by the gossips at Melbourne's. Theyrepresented her as a good girl, slenderly provided for, and he wishedthat Helena would prefer her to all others.

  His recommendation was sufficient. The wishes of Ormond, as soon as theybecame known, became hers. Her temper made her always diligent in searchof novelty. It was easy to make work for the needle. In short, sheresolved to send for her the next day. The interview accordingly tookplace on the ensuing morning, not without mutual surprise, and, on thepart of the fair Sicilian, not without considerable embarrassment.

  This circumstance arose from their having changed their respectivenames, though from motives of a very different kind. They were notstrangers to each other, though no intimacy had ever subsisted betweenthem. Each was merely acquainted with the name, person, and generalcharacter of the other. No circumstance in Constantia's situation tendedto embarrass her. Her mind had attained a state of serene composure,incapable of being ruffled by an incident of this kind. She merelyderived pleasure from the sight of her old acquaintance. The aspect ofthings around her was splendid and gay. She seemed the mistress of themansion, and her
name was changed. Hence it was unavoidable to concludethat she was married.

  Helena was conscious that appearances were calculated to suggest thisconclusion. The idea was a painful one. She sorrowed to think that thisconclusion was fallacious. The consciousness that her true condition wasunknown to her visitant, and the ignominiousness of that truth, gave anair of constraint to her behaviour, which Constantia ascribed to aprinciple of delicacy.

  In the midst of reflections relative to herself, she admitted some shareof surprise at the discovery of Constantia in a situation so inferior tothat in which she had formerly known her. She had heard, in generalterms of the misfortunes of Mr Dudley, but was unacquainted withparticulars; but this surprise, and the difficulty of adapting herbehaviour to circumstances, was only in part the source of herembarrassment, though by her companion it was wholly attributed to thiscause. Constantia thought it her duty to remove it by open andunaffected manners. She therefore said, in a sedate and cheerful tone,"You see me, Madam, in a situation somewhat unlike that in which Iformerly was placed. You will probably regard the change as an unhappyone; but, I assure you, I have found it far less so than I expected. Iam thus reduced not by my own fault. It is this reflection that enablesme to conform to it without a murmur. I shall rejoice to know that Mrs.Eden is as happy as I am."

  Helena was pleased with this address, and returned an answer full ofsweetness. She had not in her compassion for the fallen, a particle ofpride. She thought of nothing but the contrast between the formersituation of her visitant and the present. The fame of her greatqualities had formerly excited veneration, and that reverence was by nomeans diminished by a nearer scrutiny. The consciousness of her ownfrailty meanwhile diffused over the behaviour of Helena a timidity anddubiousness uncommonly fascinating. She solicited Constantia'sfriendship in a manner that showed she was afraid of nothing but denial.An assent was eagerly given, and thenceforth a cordial intercourse wasestablished between them.

  The real situation of Helena was easily discovered. The officious personwho communicated this information, at the same time cautioned Constantiaagainst associating with one of tainted reputation. This informationthrew some light upon appearances. It accounted for that melancholywhich Helena was unable to conceal. It explained that solitude in whichshe lived, and which Constantia had ascribed to the death or absence ofher husband. It justified the solicitous silence she had hithertomaintained respecting her own affairs, and which her friend's good senseforbade her to employ any sinister means of eluding.

  No long time was necessary to make her mistress of Helena's character.She loved her with uncommon warmth, though by no means blind to herdefects. She formed no expectations from the knowledge of her character,to which this intelligence operated as a disappointment. It merelyexcited her pity, and made her thoughtful how she might assist her inrepairing this deplorable error.

  This design was of no ordinary magnitude. She saw that it was previouslynecessary to obtain the confidence of Helena. This was a task of easyperformance. She knew the purity of her own motives and the extent ofher powers, and embarked in this undertaking with full confidence ofsuccess. She had only to profit by a private interview, to acquaint herfriend with what she knew, to solicit a complete and satisfactorydisclosure, to explain the impressions which her intelligence produced,and to offer her disinterested advice. No one knew better how to couchher ideas in words suitable to the end proposed by her in impartingthem.

  Helena was at first terrified, but the benevolence of her friend quicklyentitled her to confidence and gratitude that knew no limits. She hadbeen deterred from unveiling her heart by the fear of exciting contemptor abhorrence; but when she found that all due allowances weremade,--that her conduct was treated as erroneous in no atrocious orinexpiable degree, and as far front being insusceptible of remedy,--thatthe obloquy with which she had been treated found no vindicator orparticipator in her friend, her heart was considerably relieved. She hadbeen long a stranger to the sympathy and intercourse of her own sex. Nowthis good, in its most precious form, was conferred upon her, and sheexperienced an increase rather than diminution of tenderness, inconsequence of her true situation being known.

  She made no secret of any part of her history. She did full justice tothe integrity of her lover, and explained the unforced conditions onwhich she had consented to live with him. This relation exhibited thecharacter of Ormond in a very uncommon light. His asperities wounded,and his sternness chilled. What unauthorised conceptions of matrimonialand political equality did he entertain! He had fashioned his treatmentof Helena on sullen and ferocious principles. Yet he was able, itseemed, to mould her, by means of them, nearly into the creature that hewished. She knew too little of the man justly to estimate his character.It remained to be ascertained whether his purposes were consistent andupright, or were those of a villain and betrayer.

  Meanwhile what was to be done by Helena? Marriage had been refused opplausible pretences. Her unenlightened understanding made her no matchfor her lover. She would never maintain her claim to nuptial privilegesin his presence, or, if she did, she would never convince him of theirvalidity.

  Were they indeed valid? Was not the disparity between them incurable? Amarriage of minds so dissimilar could only be productive of miseryimmediately to him, and, by a reflex operation, to herself. She couldnot be happy in a union that was the source of regret to her husband.Marriage, therefore, was not possible, or if possible, was not, perhaps,to be wished. But what was the choice that remained?

  To continue in her present situation was not to be endured. Disgrace wasa daemon that would blast every hope of happiness. She was excluded fromall society but that of the depraved. Her situation was eminentlycritical. It depended, perhaps, on the resolution she should now formwhether she would be enrolled among the worst of mankind. Infamy is theworst of evils. It creates innumerable obstructions in the paths ofvirtue. It manacles the hand, and entangles the feet that are activeonly to good. To the weak it is an evil of much greater magnitude. Itdetermines their destiny; and they hasten to merit that reproach, which,at first it may be, they did not deserve.

  This connection is intrinsically flagitious. Helena is subjected by itto the worst ills that are incident to humanity, the general contempt ofmankind, and the reproaches of her own conscience. From these there isbut one method from which she can hope to be relieved. The intercoursemust cease.

  It wad easier to see the propriety of separation, than to project meansfor accomplishing it. It was true that Helena loved; but what quarterwas due to this passion when divorced from integrity? Is it not in everybosom a perishable sentiment? Whatever be her warmth, absence willcongeal it. Place her in new scenes, and supply her with new associates.Her accomplishments will not fail to attract votaries. From these shemay select a conjugal companion suitable to her mediocrity of talents.

  But alas! what power on earth can prevail on her to renounce Ormond?Others may justly entertain this prospect, but it must be invisible toher. Besides, is it absolutely certain that either her peace of mind orher reputation will be restored by this means? In the opinion of theworld her offences cannot, by any perseverance in penitence, beexpiated. She will never believe that separation will exterminateher passion. Certain it is that it will avail nothing to there-establishment of her fame. But if it were conducive to these ends,how chimerical to suppose that she will ever voluntarily adopt it! IfOrmond refuse his concurrence, there is absolutely an end to hope. Andwhat power on earth is able to sway his determinations? At least, whatinfluence was it possible for her to obtain over them?

  Should they separate, whither should she retire? What mode ofsubsistence should she adopt? She has never been accustomed to thinkbeyond the day. She has eaten and drank, but another has provided themeans. She scarcely comprehends the principle that governs the world,and in consequence of which nothing can be gained but by givingsomething in exchange for it. She is ignorant and helpless as a child,on every topic that relates to the procuring of subsistence. Hereducation ha
s disabled her from standing alone.

  But this was not all. She must not only be supplied by others, butsustained in the enjoyment of a luxurious existence. Would you bereaveher of the gratifications of opulence? You had better take away herlife. Nay, it would ultimately amount to this. She can live but in oneway.

  At present she is lovely, and, to a certain degree, innocent; but exposeher to the urgencies and temptations of want, let personal pollution bethe price set upon the voluptuous affluences of her present condition,and it is to be feared there is nothing in the contexture of her mind tohinder her from making the purchase. In every respect therefore theprospect was an hopeless one,--so hopeless, that her mind insensiblyreturned to the question which she had at first dismissed with veryslight examination,--the question relative to the advantages andprobabilities of marriage. A more accurate review convinced her thatthis was the most eligible alternative. It was, likewise, most easilyeffected. The lady, of course, would be its fervent advocate. There didnot want reasons why Ormond should finally embrace it. In what mannerappeals to his reason of his passion might most effectually be made sheknew not.

  Helena was not qualified to be her own advocate. Her unhappiness couldnot but be visible to Ormond. He had shown himself attentive andaffectionate. Was it impossible that, in time, he should reason himselfinto a spontaneous adoption of this scheme? This, indeed, was a slenderfoundation for hope, but there was no other on which she could build.

  Such were the meditations of Constantia on this topic. She was deeplysolicitous for the happiness of her friend. They spent much of theirtime together. The consolations of her society were earnestly sought byHelena; but to enjoy them, she was for the most part obliged to visitthe former at her own dwelling. For this arrangement, Constantiaapologized by saying, "You will pardon my requesting you to favour mewith your visits, rather than allowing you mine. Every thing is airyand brilliant within these walls. There is, besides, an air of seclusionand security about you that is delightful. In comparison, my dwelling isbleak, comfortless, and unretired, but my father is entitled to all mycare. His infirmity prevents him from amusing himself, and his heart ischeered by the mere sound of my voice, though not addressed to him. Themere belief of my presence seems to operate as an antidote to thedreariness of solitude; and, now you know my motives, I am sure you willnot only forgive but approve of my request."