FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
SIBELLA VALMONT
For the first time of my life, have I become the assiduous watcher of windows, the listener after footsteps; and have lived eternally in the drawing room. Yet has no Clement Montgomery appeared; and I have just now recollected that my desire of knowing him will not accelerate his approach, that so much time given to expectation is so much thrown away, and that to employ the same quantity of time in endeavouring to amuse you would be more friendly and of course more laudable.
Once more then, Sibella, we are in London, this great metropolis, alike the resort of him who possesses wealth and him who seeks to attain it. Here merit comes, hoping in the vast concourse to find the protector of talent; and hither the deliberating villain hastens, expecting the crowd will be at once favourable to the practice of his crimes, and the means of escaping their punishment. What a field here is opened for the speculator, and the moralist! And often, Sibella, do I anticipate the time when we shall look on the chequered scenes of life together. When—but let me give you the remainder of Davenport's history while is is yet fresh in my memory.
Punctual to the minute I had named, Davenport entered my apartment. The same species of settled gloom I observed the preceding day in Arabella, marked his voice and gesture. He looked so familiarized, so wedded to sadness and misfortune that, desirous of expressing in my demeanour the kindness my heart felt for him, I approached and held out my hand to receive his. He lightly pressed it; and coldly bowing, retreated to a seat on the other side of the room. From that motion, I perceived he now viewed me as one who had saved him from the commission of an action which, although of evil and dangerous tendency, would have produced to him a benefit he knew not how, in any other way to procure; and that after rendering it impossible for him to marry, I was about to leave him with some general advice to the horrors of his situation. This he imagined was the utmost of my ability; he had convinced himself of the goodness of my intentions, and could not altogether call me his enemy; but he was now looking round, hopeless and despairing, for the almost supernatural means which could extricate him from his poverty and distress.
The power was mine; and I hastened to relieve him from the anguish he endured. I told him, he should render himself independent and happy; that my pecuniary assistance should go hand and hand with his endeavours; and enquired if he had any friends who could advise him in the choice of a profession.
'Not a creature in the world who would not rather advise him to end his miseries and disgrace with a pistol.' This was Davenport's answer.
I recollected that I had noticed some little intimacy between him and Mr. Murden; and, supposing the precariousness of dependence must have occasionally led Murden's thoughts to the same views, I concluded his judgment would be useful. 'Let us consult Mr. Murden,' said I.
'No: Miss Ashburn!' cried Davenport, reddening violently. 'Contrive it all yourself; I will obey you wherever I can; but do not command me to the revolting task of declaring to all the world that I am—a beggar. When Murden and I first knew each other, I was the expected heir to a good fortune; and, as I was descended from some of the first families in the kingdom, Murden moved in a sphere below me. He stands where he did; but I alas am fallen.—Yet I won't hear him exult and triumph in affected pity.—No: no! I could tell him that even a nabob's wealth cannot blazen him with the honours that cling to the name of Davenport.'
He spoke this with surprising bitterness.
'For pity's sake, Mr. Davenport,' said I, 'do not lay on high birth more infirmities than, from its nature, it unavoidably possesses. Were you ten times more honourably descended it could not alter Murden's ability to advise you, it could not degrade him or exalt you. I have seen you court his conversation: and did you imagine your poverty was then a secret? Oh, no! who could mistake the cause of your seeking to become Mrs. Ashburn's husband? In defiance of his uncle's displeasure, Murden refused this very marriage. At the same time, I must acknowledge, his firmness has not undergone the trial you have suffered; for he had no Arabella, I believe.'