ARTHUR
70

My imagination now suggests a new way. Medlicote is a generous and fearless spirit. Putting myself under his protection, if I could walk as far as his residence, was the wisest course of action I could take. From this design, my inability to walk this far, and the consequences found on the road, hitherto deter me. These obstacles were now, in my confusion of understanding, ignored or humiliated, and I immediately set out on this hopeless expedition.

The doors connected with the court, and, through the court, by the road, were fastened with inner bolts. It was easily pulled, and I came out quick and confident. My disturbed feelings and darkness prevented me from discerning the right path. I am aware of this difficulty, but not discouraged. I continued, as I had discovered, in a different direction than the truth, but did not hesitate until my strength was exhausted and I sank to the ground. I closed my eyes, and removed all fear, and all foresight about the future. In this situation I stayed a few hours, and probably should have ended up in this place, if I hadn't caught your attention, and given, under this roof, with all that medical skill, he said, that the meekest of mankind could suggest.

As a consequence of your treatment, I have been restored to life and health. Your behavior is not influenced by the prospect of monetary rewards, service, or gratitude. Only in one way can I increase the satisfaction that must flow from the reflection of your behavior:— by showing that the creature whose life you have extended, though uneducated, is stupid, and poor, is, it is not wasteful and worthless, and will not dedicate the life that has been given your bounty, to mischievous or despicable purposes.

Surely the youth has shown an incomparable and heroic quality. His courage is the growth of virtue and reason, and not the child of insensitivity and the nurturing of habits. He had been qualified to face great danger without exhausting education. He stepped onto the stage, unfurnished, with anticipation or experience, with the means of security against deception; however, with the help of pure intention, had foiled the ruse of an accomplished and experienced con man.

I bless the opportunity that puts youth under my protection. As I contemplated the fine network of contingencies that brought him to my door, and allowed me to save from the death of such a rare creature of grace, my heart overflowed with joy, not mixed with regret and trepidation. How many have been cut off by this disease, in their virtuous careers and their times of genius! How many acts of heroism and self-sacrifice were snatched from existence, and exiled without hope!

I saved this young man's life. This is not the limit of my duty or my strength. Can't I make life beneficial for itself and for humanity? The advantages of my profession are very slim; but these advantages are sufficient for its maintenance as well as for myself. By staying with me, following my instructions, and reading my books, he, in a few years, would be fit for physics training. A science whose truth is so conducive to the well-being of mankind, and which understands the whole system of nature, cannot but satisfy a mind so generous and powerful as its own.

This scheme occurred to me as soon as the conclusion of his story allowed me to think. I did not immediately mention it, because the consent of my wife, whose consent, however, I have no doubt, had been obtained beforehand. Ignoring him, for now, from my mind, I return to the incident of his story.

The woman Welbeck had betrayed and abandoned was not someone I did not know. I'm too familiar with his fate. If she is single in doom, her story will be heard with unbearable sympathy; but the frequency of the spectacle of distress seems to diminish the compassion under review. Now those scenes are just remembered, my suffering is greater than when they were witnessed. Every new day is just a repetition of previous disasters. My sensitivity, if not extinguished, became dull; and I looked upon the complicated sicknesses of poverty and disease with a degree of indifference that I should have once contemplated with astonishment.

The fate of Clemenza Lodi, perhaps, is not a signal more than much has happened. It highlights Welbeck's repulsive character, and shows that he is more inhumane than the Mervyn story has proved. That man, indeed, until now looked imperfect. The time has yet to come that will fully reveal the magnitude of his offense and the complexity of his deception.

In a remote area of the city lived a woman, named Villars, who was thought to be the widow of a British officer. His manners and way of life are face-to-face. She has three daughters, is well trained in fashion school, and is personally graceful, manners, and outfits. They had recently arrived from Europe, and, for a time, received from their neighbors things that seemed to demand their education and wealth.

A man like Welbeck, who was a slave of depraved appetite, would surely be quickly satiated with innocence and beauty. A few accidents introduce him to the knowledge of this family, and the youngest daughter finds him the right subject to train his wits. Because of the demands often filed on her purse, by this woman, part of the shame in which Mervyn found her involved should be ascribed.

For these circumstances it should also be taken into account his anxiety to transfer the ownership of unhappy strangers to others. Why he hides from Mervyn his relationship with Lucy Villars may be easy to imagine. His silence in connection with Clemenza's asylum would not have taken him by surprise, when told he was stationed with Mrs. Villar. On what condition he was accepted under this roof, it couldn't be so easily guessed. It is clear, however, to assume that profit is taken from his ignorance and weakness, and that they hope, in time, to make him an associate in their extravagant scheme.

The appearance of pestilence, meanwhile, made them panic, and they rushed to get away from the danger. Mrs Villars does not seem to be an ordinary woman. She bends down to the worst way to raise money; but this money is used to guarantee herself and her daughters the benefit of independence. He bought the house he occupied in the city, and a large house around it, well built and furnished with beautiful furnishings. For the latter, she and her family, of which the Italian girl is now a member, retired in late July.

I have mentioned that the source of my intelligence is a relative, who has been pulled from the path of serenity and honesty by the impulse of young lust. He has the power to admit and regret, but nothing to correct, his mistakes. One of these women endured it with a spell that she vainly fought to eliminate, and the one with which, despite her resolution and regret, she was interested in standing up, she said, and sacrificed his reputation and wealth for his pleasure.

My house was her usual residence during intervals where she was persuaded to pursue her profession. Some time before the infection began to develop, he had disappeared. No news was received about him, until a messenger arrived, pleading for my help. I was taken to Mrs Villars' house, where I found no one but my relatives. Here, it seems, he has refrained from my questioning, and, having been captured by the disease in power, has been abandoned by the family, who, before they left, had been left behind, informed me by a messenger about his condition.

Desperation combined with his illness to destroy him. Before he died, he told me completely about his traitorous character. Delay in arrival, name, and personal condition of Clemenza Lodi are interrelated. Welbeck is not named, but is described in terms that, combined with Mervyn's narrative, allow me to recognize Lucy Villars' lover in the man whose crimes have been a central theme of our discourse.

Mervyn's curiosity was very aroused when I told my acquaintances about the fate of Clemenza . In response to her passionate interrogation, I told her what I knew. The story plunged him into a daydream. Recovering, at length, from his attention, he spoke:

"dangerous conditions. Welbeck's poverty will push him away from where he lives. His profligate protector will either persuade him or leave him for destruction. Can't he be saved?"