'Suppose it: what then?'
'Why then I am sure you have gained a friend, who will never suffer you to go to prison.'
The word friend conjured up a train of ideas, which almost overcame me. 'I have lost a friend,' said I, 'who would not have suffered me to go to prison. But he is gone. I accepted even his favours with an aching and unwilling heart; and prison itself will not, I suspect, be so painful to me as more obligations of the same kind, and conferred by a person who, though I am strongly prepossessed in his favour, I scarcely can hope should equal Mr. Evelyn. And, if he even did, an extravagant supposition, I should still hesitate: I doubt if a prison itself be so hateful as a knowledge that I am only out of one on sufferance; and that, when any caprice shall seize my creditor, I may be hunted like a ferocious beast; and commanded to my den, like a crouching cur.
Mr. Hilary endeavoured to combat this train of thinking: but it was not to be conquered. The short period of trial since the death of Mr. Evelyn had afforded me too many proofs of the painful sensations which such a knowledge can excite; and of the propensity which I had to give them encouragement. To be as I have said the slave of any man's temper, not as an effort of duty but from a sense of fear, was insufferable. A prison, locks, bolts, and bread and water, were to be preferred.
Mr. Hilary sat with me till bed time; and, not only to put the bailiff in good humour, but to cheer my heart and his own, ordered supper, and drank more plentifully of wine than was his custom: urging me to follow his example. I did not refuse: for I had a contempt for any thing that had the appearance of an incapacity to endure whatever the tyranny of rancorous men and unjust laws could inflict. The stranger, he told me, was gone down into the country; from whence he would return within a week: but he forbore to mention his name, as he had been instructed; the stranger having enquiries to make, which induced him to keep it secret.
Before he left me, Mr. Hilary received instructions from me to be given to Clarke: after which we quitted the best parlour, into which we had been introduced with great ceremony to sup; and I retired to try how soundly I could sleep, in one of the good beds of a lock-up house.
CHAPTER XV
Morning visitors: A generous proposal rejected: The affectionate friendship of Miss Wilmot: A very unexpected visitor: His extraordinary conduct, and a scene of reconciliation: A letter which excites delightful sensations
The morning came, the diligence of Mr. Hilary was that of a friend, and the best parlour was soon filled: the reader will easily guess by whom. There is an undescribable pleasure, when we are persecuted by one set of human beings, to receive marks of affection from another. It is a strong consolation to know that kindness and justice have not wholly forsaken the earth.
Wilmot, Clarke, and Turl were with me. I called for breakfast; and felt a gratification at enjoying another social meal, before being immured in I knew not what kind of dungeon. Charlotte and her maid, Pol, were very alert; and I believe she almost repented that I was not in the drawing-room, since she found I had so many friends.