Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 1 (of 3)

by Charles Brockden Brown

During her return her thoughts were painfully employed in considering the mode proper for her to pursue in her present perplexing situation. She was for the most part unacquainted with the character of those who compelled her neighbourhood. That any would be willing to undertake the attendance of this girl was by no means probable. As wives and mothers, it would perhaps be unjust to require or permit it. As to herself, there were labours and duties of her own sufficient to engross her faculties, yet, by whatever foreign cares or tasks she was oppressed, she felt that to desert this being was impossible.

In the absence of her friend, Mary's state exhibited no change. Constantia, on regaining the house, lighted the remnant of a candle, and resumed her place by the bed side of the sick girl. She impatiently waited the arrival of the physician, but hour succeeded hour, and he came not. All hope of his coming being extinguished, she bethought herself that her father might be able to inform her of the best manner of proceeding. It was likewise her duty to relieve him from the suspense in which her absence would unavoidably plunge him.

On entering her own apartment, she found a stranger in company with Mr. Dudley. The latter perceiving that she had returned, speedily acquainted her with the view of their guest. His name was M'Crea; he was the nephew of their landlord, and was now become, by reversion, the proprietor of the house which they occupied. Matthews had been buried the preceding day, and M'Crea, being well acquainted with the engagements which subsisted between the deceased and Mr. Dudley, had come thus unreasonably to demand the rent. He was not unconscious of the inhumanity and sordidness of this proceeding, and therefore endeavoured to disguise it by the usual pretences. All his funds were exhausted. He came not only in his own name, but in that of Mrs. Matthews his aunt, who was destitute of money to procure daily and indispensable provision, and who was striving to collect a sufficient sum to enable her and the remains of her family to fly from a spot where their lives were in perpetual danger.

These excuses were abundantly fallacious, but Mr. Dudley was too proud to solicit the forbearance of a man like this. He recollected that the engagement on his part was voluntary and explicit, and he disdained to urge his present exigences as reasons for retracting it. He expressed the utmost readiness to comply with the demand, and merely desired him to wait till Miss Dudley returned. From the inquietudes with which the unusual duration of her absence had filled him, he was now relieved by her entrance.

With an indignant and desponding heart, she complied with her father's directions, and the money being reluctantly delivered, M'Crea took an hasty leave. She was too deeply interested in the fate of Mary Whiston to allow her thoughts to be diverted for the present into a new channel. She described the desolate condition of the girl to her father, and besought him to think of something suitable to her relief.

Mr. Dudley's humanity would not suffer him to disapprove of his daughter's proceeding. He imagined that the symptoms of the patient portended a fatal issue. There were certain complicated remedies which might possibly be beneficial, but these were too costly, and the application would demand more strength than his daughter could bestow. He was unwilling, however, to leave any thing within his power untried. Pharmacy had been his trade, and he had reserved, for domestic use some of the most powerful evacuants. Constantia was supplied with some of these, and he consented that she should spend the night with her patient and watch their operation.

The unhappy Mary received whatever was offered, but her stomach refused to retain it. The night was passed by Constantia without closing her eyes. As soon as the day dawned, she prepared once more to summon the physician, who had failed to comply with his promise. She had scarcely left the house, however, before she met him. He pleaded his numerous engagements in excuse for his last night's negligence, and desired her to make haste to conduct him to the patient.

Having scrutinized her symptoms, he expressed his hopelessness of her recovery. Being informed of the mode in which she had been treated, he declared his approbation of it, but intimated, that these being unsuccessful, all that remained was to furnish her with any liquid she might choose to demand, and wait patiently for the event. During this interview the physician surveyed the person and dress of Constantia with an inquisitive eye. His countenance betrayed marks of curiosity and compassion, and, had he made any approaches to confidence and friendliness, Constantia would not have repelled them. His air was benevolent and candid, and she estimated highly the usefulness of a counsellor and friend in her present circumstances. Some motive, however, hindered him from tendering his services, and in a few moments he withdrew.

Mary's condition hourly grew worse. A corroded and gangrenous stomach was quickly testified by the dark hue and poisonous malignity of the matter which was frequently ejected from it. Her stuper gave place to some degree of peevishness and restlessness. She drank the water that was held to her lips with unspeakable avidity, and derived from this source a momentary alleviation of her pangs. Fortunately for her attendant her agonies were not of long duration. Constantia was absent from her bedside as rarely and for periods as short as possible. On the succeeding night the sufferings of the patient terminated in death.

This event took place at two o'clock, in the morning,—an hour whose customary stillness was, if possible, increased tenfold by the desolation of the city. The poverty of Mary and of her nurse; had deprived the former of the benefits, resulting from the change of bed and clothes. Every thing about her was in a condition noisome and detestable. Her yellowish and haggard visage, conspicuous by a feeble light, an atmosphere freighted with malignant vapours, and reminding Constantia at every instant of the perils which encompassed her, the consciousness of solitude and sensations of deadly sickness in her own frame, were sufficient to intimidate a soul of firmer texture than hers.