Arthur Mervyn | Page 6

I found him, and the uniform
complacency and rectitude of his deportment for the period during
which we had witnessed it. These ideas had considerable influence on
my judgment, and indisposed me to follow the advice of my friend,
which was to turn him forth from my doors that very night.
My wife's prepossessions were still more powerful advocates of this
youth. She would vouch, she said, before any tribunal, for his
innocence; but she willingly concurred with me in allowing him the
continuance of our friendship on no other condition than that of a
disclosure of the truth. To entitle ourselves to this confidence we were
willing to engage, in our turn, for the observance of secrecy, so far that
no detriment should accrue from this disclosure to himself or his friend.

Next morning, at breakfast, our guest appeared with a countenance less
expressive of embarrassment than on the last evening. His attention
was chiefly engaged by his own thoughts, and little was said till the
breakfast was removed. I then reminded him of the incidents of the
former day, and mentioned that the uneasiness which thence arose to us
had rather been increased than diminished by time.
"It is in your power, my young friend," continued I, "to add still more
to this uneasiness, or to take it entirely away. I had no personal
acquaintance with Thomas Welbeck. I have been informed by others
that his character, for a certain period, was respectable, but that, at
length, he contracted large debts, and, instead of paying them,
absconded. You, it seems, lived with him. On the night of his departure
you are known to have accompanied him across the river, and this, it
seems, is the first of your reappearance on the stage. Welbeck's conduct
was dishonest. He ought doubtless to be pursued to his asylum and be
compelled to refund his winnings. You confess yourself to know his
place of refuge, but urge a promise of secrecy. Know you not that to
assist or connive at the escape of this man was wrong? To have
promised to favour his concealment and impunity by silence was only
an aggravation of this wrong. That, however, is past. Your youth, and
circumstances, hitherto unexplained, may apologize for that
misconduct; but it is certainly your duty to repair it to the utmost of
your power. Think whether, by disclosing what you know, you will not
repair it."
"I have spent most of last night," said the youth, "in reflecting on this
subject. I had come to a resolution, before you spoke, of confiding to
you my simple tale. I perceive in what circumstances I am placed, and
that I can keep my hold of your good opinion only by a candid
deportment. I have indeed given a promise which it was wrong, or
rather absurd, in another to exact, and in me to give; yet none but
considerations of the highest importance would persuade me to break
my promise. No injury will accrue from my disclosure to Welbeck. If
there should, dishonest as he was, that would be a sufficient reason for
my silence. Wortley will not, in any degree, be benefited by any
communication that I can make. Whether I grant or withhold

information, my conduct will have influence only on my own
happiness, and that influence will justify me in granting it.
"I received your protection when I was friendless and forlorn. You have
a right to know whom it is that you protected. My own fate is
connected with the fate of Welbeck, and that connection, together with
the interest you are pleased to take in my concerns, because they are
mine, will render a tale worthy of attention which will not be
recommended by variety of facts or skill in the display of them.
"Wortley, though passionate, and, with regard to me, unjust, may yet be
a good man; but I have no desire to make him one of my auditors. You,
sir, may, if you think proper, relate to him afterwards what particulars
concerning Welbeck it may be of importance for him to know; but at
present it will be well if your indulgence shall support me to the end of
a tedious but humble tale."
The eyes of my Eliza sparkled with delight at this proposal. She
regarded this youth with a sisterly affection, and considered his candour,
in this respect, as an unerring test of his rectitude. She was prepared to
hear and to forgive the errors of inexperience and precipitation. I did
not fully participate in her satisfaction, but was nevertheless most
zealously disposed to listen to his narrative.
My engagements obliged me to postpone this rehearsal till late in the
evening. Collected then round a cheerful hearth, exempt from all
likelihood of interruption from without,