The Adventures of Hugh Trevor Part 67

Determined however to make every possible enquiry, I went to the house; where I found only a person who was left in charge of the premises, and who knew nothing more than that the physician was gone with a patient to Lisbon.

These little incidents, trifling as they appeared, afforded me an excellent proof of the absurdity of false modesty: which induces men, from the egoistical fear of being thought vain, to conceal or disguise the truth. The physician had bestowed high eulogiums on my humanity: after which, he had hinted a desire, but with well-bred reserve, to know who I was; and I, catching the apparent delicacy of his feelings and thinking but very little on the subject, imagined there would be ostentation in personally taking to myself his praises, by giving him my name and place of abode. I therefore told him I would answer that question when we became better acquainted; if he should then find he had no reason to alter his good opinion of me.

Thus do men by affecting not to be vain, indulge a kind of double refined vanity; and lead themselves and others into error.

Being disappointed in all my enquiries of this day, my next care was to see Miss Wilmot. Surrounded as I was by persons who thought me inimical to them, and therefore were probably my inveterate enemies, I knew not what false reports might be spread; nor how to guard against them in the public opinion. But I had one consolation. Olivia had declared she was resolved to enquire, before she again gave the least credit to calumny. It was therefore essentially necessary that I should acquaint Miss Wilmot with all that had pa.s.sed.

It was now evening; and, when I came to her lodgings, I found her brother and Turl both there. Though my absence had been short, the meeting gave me no little pleasure. It would likewise save me the trouble of a thrice told tale: for to friends like these my heart was always open; and I had something like an abhorrence of concealment, and secret transactions. I wished them to share in all my joys; and, as to my griefs, they not only excited their sympathy but produced remarks and counsel, by which they had often been cured.

I told my story; and it may well be imagined my hearers were neither inattentive nor unmoved. The selfishness and depravity into which men are driven, and the vices of which being thus impelled they are capable, exemplified as these vices were in my narration, drew heavy sighs from the gentle and kind hearted Lydia, made her much oppressed brother groan in spirit, and excited in Turl those comprehensive powers that trace the history of facts through a long succession, and teach, by miseries that are past, how miseries in future are to be avoided.

The general feeling however was that danger was hovering over me. The indignation of Wilmot, at the treatment of men who most endeavoured to deserve well of their age and country, was very strong.

Neither was Turl less moved. His manner was placid, yet his feelings were acute. But, though they might vibrate for a moment toward discord, they touched the true harmony at last. He who has fixed principles of action is soon called to a recollection of his duties, and the manner in which he ought to act.

Roused by his friends.h.i.+p for me, I should rather say by his affection, he collected his faculties; and presented to the imagination so sublime a picture of fort.i.tude, and of the virtue of enduring injuries and oppression with dignity, that he prepared my mind most admirably for the trials that were to succeed.

CHAPTER IX

_A second and more successful attempt to obtain an interview with the Baronet: An enigmatical dialogue: The meaning of which however may be guessed_

It was not only the wish of my heart but it was quite necessary for me to see Mr. Evelyn. However, it was exceedingly desirable that I should previously meet the Baronet: lest, in what I should say, my surmises might be false; and I might produce a family disagreement between persons who would both have conferred essential benefits on me, if the supposed defection of Sir Barnard should not be true. I determined therefore once more to go to the Cocoa tree and wait.

As it happened, waiting was not necessary. The Baronet was there; and, though there was something of coldness in his manner, it was by no means what my fears had taught me to expect. Salutation having pa.s.sed, I requested to speak with him. We retired into a private room; and he began by telling me he was glad to see me again in town; and no longer continuing to support a person whom he no longer esteemed his friend.

At hearing this remark, and the significance with which it was delivered, my evil augury returned upon me in full force. I answered that I had quitted Mr. Mowbray not because I had deserted his interest, but because I had been unjustly accused. 'Accused of what, Mr. Trevor?'

'Of having been influenced by you to betray a party which I had pretended to espouse.'

'And were you not influenced by me, Mr. Trevor?'

'I never can be influenced by any man, Sir Barnard, to commit an action which my heart condemns.'

'Do you mean, Mr. Trevor, that your heart condemns me?'

'The question is very direct; and I am not desirous of wounding your feelings, Sir Barnard: but I must not be guilty of falsehood. I certainly wish you had acted otherwise.'

'Then you pretend to set up for yourself, Mr. Trevor; and to have no deference whatever for me, and my opinions.'

'Personally, as a gentleman who meant to do me service, I wish to preserve every respect for you, Sir Barnard. But I hope you do not expect of me any deference that should, on any occasion whatever, induce me to abandon either my public or my private duties.' 'Very well, Mr. Trevor. Very well. I dare say you are so perfectly acquainted with your duties that no man on earth, not even he who had been your greatest friend, could induce you to alter any of your notions.'

'I should hope, Sir Barnard, that either friend or enemy might so induce me: provided he had truth and reason on his side.'

'Very well, Mr. Trevor. All that is very fine. I dare say you understand your own interest, and will take your own road: even though you might if you pleased travel more at your ease, and in better company, by going another way.'

'Will you be kind enough to explain yourself, Sir Barnard?'

'No, Mr. Trevor. I shall give no explanations, till I am sure I am talking to my friend: my fast friend, Mr. Trevor: that will think and act with me. If you will give me your word and honor as a gentleman to that, why then we will talk together.'

'If by thinking and acting together, Sir Barnard, you mean that you expect I should blindly and implicitly conform to any tergiversation--I mean to any change--'

'You need explain yourself no farther, Mr. Trevor. I very well understand your meaning. My friend is my friend, Mr. Trevor; and he is no other man's friend, Mr. Trevor. I could not but suppose you understood all that perfectly at first; and I am very sorry to be so much deceived. But it is my misfortune to be always deceived, and entrapped; and--'

'Entrapped, Sir Barnard! I hope you do not apply that word to me?'

'Nay, nay, Mr. Trevor, I want no quarrelling.'

'Nor do I, Sir Barnard. But, if you suppose me capable of taking any advantage of what you may now think an ill-placed confidence in me, you egregiously mistake both my intentions and my character.'

'I hope I do, Mr. Trevor. You have a great fluency: but I hope I do.'

I saw him preparing to go; and, being exceedingly anxious to have a determinate answer, I added--'Let me intreat you, Sir Barnard, to give me an explicit declaration of what you expect from me.'

'You must excuse me, Mr. Trevor. I shall say no more, at present. You say I mistake your intentions. I hope I do. Time will tell. When you are my friend, I shall be very glad to see you; and so will Lady Bray.

Good morning to you, Mr. Trevor.'

CHAPTER X

_Reflections on the mutability of fortune, on money expended, and on the duties of love and friends.h.i.+p: A strange incident, shewing the propensity of man to superst.i.tious terrors: A lamentable and unexpected event_

Well might I forebode the approach of evil: and, except that complaint is of no avail, is waste of time, is unhappiness and therefore is immoral, well might I complain of those sudden strokes of fate by which, whenever my prospects began to be flattering, they were suddenly obscured in darkness and despair. But, if I had not supposed myself marked in an extraordinary manner as the child of fortune, to whose smiles and frowns I seemed to be capriciously subjected, I know not what should have induced me to have written my history; or rather the history of my youth; for of what is yet reserved for me I am still ignorant.

Not that I pretend to consider the hypocrisy, selfishness and profligacy of t.i.tled folly, and church pride, as things in themselves extraordinary. It was the coincidence and the number and manner of them, by which in the crisis of my fate I seemed to be so repeatedly and so peculiarly affected, that occasioned surprise and pain.

Yet what was all that I had hitherto felt from persons like these, when I remember that which I was now immediately doomed to feel? The perverted and the vicious it is true can excite emotion, and excite it strongly. But how comparatively feeble does their utmost malice seem, as far as it affects only ourselves, when brought in compet.i.tion with the thunder-bolt that strikes the virtuous; that shuts the gate of hope; and that robs us of those unspeakable pleasures which imagination has fondly stored, as a grand resource against evil, fall when and how it may?

Parting from the Baronet, expecting what was almost certain some change of political sentiment, no matter how brought about, by which my flattering expectations were at once to be rooted up, my thoughts inevitably flowed into that train which was bitterness little short of anguish. Mr. Evelyn was a man of such peculiar virtue and disinterested benevolence, of a heart so generous and so little capable of accusing me in consequence of the baseness of others, that to have suspected him of such a mistake would have been the height of injustice. But I could not forget the sums that he had advanced, in all four hundred pounds, the more than probable failure of all the plans for which they had been advanced, and the incapacity I had and should have to repay these sums.

Neither could I forbear to take a retrospective view of the manner in which they had been expended. Could I approve of that manner? Could I forget how short a time it was, though I had squandered my own money, since I had forfeited no atom of my independence by accepting the earnings of others? Suppose this parliamentary plan to fail, and fail it must, for there were no hopes that I could honestly retain my seat, to what other means could I resort? While I continued to indulge in wild and extravagant schemes of enriching myself, by which I did but impoverish others, ought I to require of Olivia to partake of my folly, and its consequences? Had I nothing but the cup of wretchedness to offer, and must I still urge her to drink? Was it not my duty rather to tear myself at once away from her; and place some insurmountable barrier between us, that should relieve her from such an ill-fated predilection?

Full of these thoughts, I proceeded toward the residence of Mr.

Evelyn. It was necessary that I should see him immediately: for silence would have been the meanest deceit. I went with an afflicted heart. But how did I return? Why do I say afflicted? No! Anguish, real anguish, since I had known him, had not yet reached me. But it was coming. It was rus.h.i.+ng forward, like a torrent; to bear away inferior cares and sorrows, and engulph them wholly.

Unexpected events are sometimes peculiarly marked, by certain uncommon incidental circ.u.mstances. As I was walking hastily forward, anxious to meet Mr. Evelyn at home, I saw a coffin borne before me by four men at some distance. Their pace was brisk. I had several streets to pa.s.s, before I arrived at the house where Mr. Evelyn had apartments; and still the coffin turned the way that I was to go.

I overtook and went before it: but the gloomy object had excited my attention, and I presently looked behind me. Still it took the same route. I looked again, and again; and it was continually at my heels.

It is strange how imagination will work, and how ideas will suggest themselves. I wished it any where else; but it seemed to pursue me.