LETTER CXXV
Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax
London, Dover-Street
So, Fairfax, you have suffered the lad to escape you; cautioned and entreated as you were! You know, I suppose, by what means; and with whom he is at present?—Well, well!—It is no matter—have quarrels enough on hand, and enemies enough!—I would fain die in peace with somebody!—I forgive you—I suppose you did your best.
It is exceedingly possible that this may be the last letter you will ever receive from me. Remember me now and then. Should Henley and Anna St. Ives survive me, let them know I was not so entirely blind to their worth as they might perhaps suppose. Shew them my letters if you will: I care not who sees them now! Let the truth be told! I shall be deaf enough to censure.
I have just had a visit from the crazy count; a threatening one. A challenge has passed, and we are to meet to-morrow.
So it is agreed; but I doubt whether I shall keep the appointment. If there be one spark of resentment in the soul of Henley, it is possible I may fail. I mean to give him the first chance. It is his by right; and why should not I do right even to him, once in my life? This farrago of folly, this pride of birth, and riches, and I know not what else lumber, is very contemptible!
Fairfax, the present state of my thoughts force more than one truth upon me. But what have I to do with truth, in a world from which I learned so much error that it was impossible for me to exist in it? These wise people should leave us fools to wrangle, be wretched, and cut each other's throats as we list, without inter-meddling: 'tis dangerous. But Truth is a zealot; Wisdom will be crying in the streets; and Folly meeting her seldom fails to deal her blow.
My mind is made up: my affairs are settled, my lawyer has written out my will, and it is signed. You will find yourself mentioned in it, Fairfax. I have nominated my sister my executor, and Anna St. Ives my heir. I have been reading Louisa's letter again: it is full of pathos. She has more understanding than I have been willing to allow, and I have relented. She is not forgotten in my will: I would not have her think of me with everlasting hatred.
I know not how it is, Fairfax, but I feel more compunction, at present, than I ever remember to have felt before. I am grown into self-contempt; and the haughty notions, which were the support of my high and sometimes arrogant conduct, are faded. I could think only of Coke Clifton, and I now know Coke Clifton to be a very wicked dolt!