“Come,” said Witherington, “this is honest, and to show you that you have to deal with honest people, here is the hundred and fifty pounds; and I promise you, in the name of these honest men, that if things succeed well, you shall have the other half next quarter-day.” The farmers paid the money, and departed astonished, and not a little afraid, at the consequences of this proceeding. Witherington ordered his horse, and inquired of the ostler the road the old gentleman had to travel, and presently took his departure.
He chose the road which the old gentleman had to travel, and soon observed him jogging away in sullen silence, with a servant behind him. When he observed our hero, he would have fled, but Witherington seized the bridle of his horse, and forced him to proceed, bantering him upon the folly of hoarding up wealth, without enjoying it himself, merely for some spendthrift son to squander after his death. “For,” he continued, “money is a blessing sent us from Heaven, in order that, by its circulation, it may afford nourishment to the body politic; and if such wretches as you, by laying up thousands in your coffers to no advantage, cause a stagnation, there are thousands in the world that must feel the consequences, and I am to acquaint you of them; so that a better deed cannot be done, than to bestow what you have about you upon me; for, to be plain with you, I am not to be refused;” and hereupon he presented his pistol. The old gentleman, in trepidation for his life, resigned his purse, containing more than three hundred and fifty guineas; and Witherington, unbuckling the portmanteau from behind the servant, placed it on his own horse, and left the old landlord with an admonition, to be in future affable and generous to his tenants, for they were the persons who supported him, adding, that if he ever again heard complaints from them, he would visit his house, and partake liberally of what he most coveted.
The county, after this adventure, was up in pursuit of Witherington, and he retired to Cheshire with great expedition. The first house he put up at was an inn kept by a young widow, noted as well for her kindness to travellers, as her wealth and beauty. She paid our adventurer great attention, and invited him to be of a party, consisting of some friends, which she was to have that evening. He was not blind to the charms of the widow, and gladly accepted the invitation. The company he found to consist chiefly of gentlemen, who, he could discover, were angling for the widow’s riches. Witherington gained great favor in the eyes of the lady, and she asked him to favor the company with a song, as she was sure, from his sweet clear voice, he could perform well. Witherington wanting no farther importunity from a person he had fixed his affections upon, complied with the request, and sang an amorous ditty, very applicable to his present situation, and, with the assistance of a side glance and a sigh, enabled the widow to draw the most favorable inferences. He was completely successful, and the widow evidently vanquished. Witherington was now requested by the widow to relate some story concerning himself, “as certainly a person who could make himself so agreeable, and make others take such an interest in his welfare, could not fail to have met with something remarkable in his lifetime.” Witherington was all compliance, and begged leave to give a short recital of his life; and the company were anxious that he should proceed, expecting to be informed of something marvellous and mysterious.
He invented an artful story, the drift of which was to give the widow a high idea of himself, of the power that love had over him, and of the generosity of his own mind. His greatest misfortune, he said, was disappointment in love, the object of his choice having been stolen from him by an old rich uncle, against her inclination, and he stated that he had just left home, in order to divert his mind from the melancholy with which this had overcast him; “chance,” said he, in conclusion, “has thrown me into this hospitable house, where I cannot but own I have found as much beauty as I have been unfortunately deprived of.”
This story excited considerable interest throughout the company, more particularly in the breast of the widow, towards whom Witherington now evinced unequivocal marks of attention, which seemed to excite considerable jealousy in some of the gentlemen present. They all parted, however, on the most friendly terms, and our adventurer resolved to stay some time at Nantwich, in order to follow out this adventure. Next morning, Witherington renewed his assiduities, and both he and the amorous widow were equally gratified with each other’s company; at length, determined to carry his point by a coup de grace, he declared a most ardent passion for her, which, after much prefacing and many assurances, was returned tenfold. She assured him, at the same time, that he had many rivals, but over these he had gained the pre-eminence, in her estimation.
A few days after the first interview with the other suitors at the inn, Witherington’s ascendancy was so evident, that a rival, who imagined he had the game within reach, was seriously alarmed, and had recourse to stratagem to free himself from such an opponent. For this purpose he sent for Witherington, and, with every appearance of disinterested friendship, informed him, that he had sent for him to caution him against further intimacy with the widow, to whom he confessed he once paid matrimonial court, but that he had thrown her completely off since he had discovered the measure of her guilt, and congratulated himself upon his escape. Expressing his detestation of the character of a defamer, and solemnly avowing the purity of his motives, he informed Witherington, that the widow was most fickle and insincere in her attachment, as any one might have discovered at the supper party: and, in order to gratify this wavering inclination, she had poisoned her last husband. He entreated him then, as he valued his own happiness and security, to desist from prosecuting his intentions farther, and hoped Witherington would pardon the liberty he had taken; for, hearing his acquaintance was to end in marriage, and considering the fortunate escape he had himself made, he was bound to prevent a stranger from being imposed upon.
Witherington at once saw the drift of his rival, and humored him accordingly. He seemed shocked at the baseness of the widow, and joined the other in self-congratulation. He thanked the gentleman for his kindly warning, and told him to leave the affair to his management, and he would soon discover the depth of her guilt; and that as they both seemed to have one object in view, namely, the possession of her money, they might then be able to make what use of the circumstances they found convenient and proper. The gentleman seemed satisfied, and they parted for the present.
Our adventurer returning to the inn, acquainted the widow with the whole conversation between him and the gentleman. She was greatly incensed, declared the world was very censorious, and vowed revenge at whatever price. Witherington judging that a rupture was about to take place, thought it high time to take advantage of the credulous woman; so, that evening, taking her aside, he observed to her that the best way of revenging herself upon his rival would be, if she had any serious intention of marrying him, to show her inclination by some mark of her favor that might distinguish him above his rival. Glad of this opportunity, she conveyed him into a closet, where, showing him all her money and plate, she told him that all these were at his service, provided he could deliver her from the importunities of the gentleman. Witherington assured her that she might depend upon him, and, taking his leave for the night, retired to his chamber. Here he wrote the following letter to the widow:
“My Dear,
“Ever mindful of what a woman says, especially one who has been pleased to set her affections on me, I have written this letter purely to acquaint you that, being obliged to go to London, and the journey being pretty long, I could not do better than make use of the money in the closet which you were so good as to say was at my service. I was in exceeding haste when I began to write this, so that I can spare no more time than to request you to be sure of thinking of me till my return.