CHAPTER V.
It was now dusk, and she hastened to perform this duty. Whiston'sdwelling was wooden and of small dimensions. She lifted the latch softlyand entered. The lower room was unoccupied. She advanced to the foot ofa narrow staircase, and knocked and listened, but no answer was returnedto the summons. Hence there was reason to infer that no one was within,but this, from other considerations, was extremely improbable. The truthcould be ascertained only by ascending the stairs. Some femininescruples were to be subdued before this proceeding could be adopted.
After some hesitation, she determined to ascend. The staircase wasterminated by a door, at which she again knocked for admission, but invain. She listened and presently heard the motion as of some one inbed. This was succeeded by tokens of vehement exertions to vomit. Thesesigns convincing her that the house was not without a tenant, she couldnot hesitate to enter the room.
Lying in a tattered bed, she now discovered Mary Whiston. Her face wasflushed and swelled, her eyes closed, and some power, appeared to havelaid a leaden hand upon her faculties. The floor was moistened andstained by the effusion from her stomach. Constantia touched her hand,and endeavoured to rouse her. It was with difficulty that her attentionwas excited. Her languid eyes, were scarcely opened before they againclosed, and she sunk into forgetfulness.
Repeated efforts, however, at length recalled her to herself, andextorted from her some account of her condition. On the day before, atnoon, her stomach became diseased, her head dizzy, and her limbs unableto support her. Her brother was absent, and her drowsiness, interruptedonly by paroxysms of vomiting, continued till his return late in theevening. He had then shown himself, for a few minutes, at her bedside,had made some inquiries and precipitately retired, since when he had notreappeared.
It was natural to imagine that Whiston had gone to procure medicalassistance. That he had not returned, during a day and a half, wasmatter of surprise. His own indisposition was recollected, and hisabsence could only be accounted for by supposing that sickness haddisabled him from regaining his own house. What was his real destiny itwas impossible to conjecture. It was not till some months after thisperiod that satisfactory intelligence was gained upon this head.
It appeared that Whiston had allowed his terrors to overpower the senseof what was due to his sister and to humanity. On discovering thecondition of the unhappy girl, he left the houses and, instead ofseeking a physician, he turned his step towards the country. Aftertravelling some hours, being exhausted by want of food, by fatigue; andby mental as well as bodily anguish, he laid himself down under theshelter of a hayrick, in a vacant field. Here he was discovered in themorning by the inhabitants of a neighbouring farm house. These peoplehad too much regard for their own safety to accommodate him under theirroof, or even to approach within fifty paces of his person.
A passenger whose attention and compassion had been excited by thisincident was endowed with more courage. He lifted the stranger in hisarms, and carried him from this unwholesome spot to a barn. This was theonly service which the passenger was able to perform. Whiston, desertedby every human creature, burning with fever, tormented into madness bythirst, spent three miserable days in agony. When dead, no one wouldcover his body with earth, but he was suffered to decay by piecemeal.
The dwelling being at no great distance from the barn, could not bewholly screened from the malignant vapour which a corpse thus neglected,could not fail to produce.
The inhabitants were preparing, on this account, to change their abode,but, on the eve of their departure, the master of the family becamesick. He was, in a short time, followed to the grave by his mother, hiswife, and four children.
They probably imbibed their disease from the tainted atmosphere aroundthem. The life of Whiston, and their own lives, might have been saved byaffording the wanderer an asylum and suitable treatment, or at leasttheir own deaths might have been avoided by interring his remains.
Meanwhile Constantia was occupied with reflecting on the scene beforeher. Not only a physician but a nurse was wanting. The last province itwas more easy for her to supply than the former. She was acquainted withthe abode but of one physician. He lived at no small distance from thisspot. To him she immediately hastened; but he was absent, and hisnumerous engagements left it wholly uncertain when he would return, andwhether he would consent to increase the number of his patients.Direction was obtained to the residence of another, who was happilydisengaged; and who promised to attend immediately. Satisfied with thisassurance, she neglected to request directions; by which she mightregulate herself on his failing to come.
During her return her thoughts were painfully employed in consideringthe mode proper for her to pursue in her present perplexing situation.She was for the most part unacquainted with the character of those whocompelled her neighbourhood. That any would be willing to undertake theattendance of this girl was by no means probable. As wives and mothers,it would perhaps be unjust to require or permit it. As to herself, therewere labours and duties of her own sufficient to engross her faculties,yet, by whatever foreign cares or tasks she was oppressed, she felt thatto desert this being was impossible.
In the absence of her friend, Mary's state exhibited no change.Constantia, on regaining the house, lighted the remnant of a candle, andresumed her place by the bed side of the sick girl. She impatientlywaited the arrival of the physician, but hour succeeded hour, and hecame not. All hope of his coming being extinguished, she bethoughtherself that her father might be able to inform her of the best mannerof proceeding. It was likewise her duty to relieve him from thesuspense in which her absence would unavoidably plunge him.
On entering her own apartment, she found a stranger in company with Mr.Dudley. The latter perceiving that she had returned, speedily acquaintedher with the view of their guest. His name was M'Crea; he was the nephewof their landlord, and was now become, by reversion, the proprietor ofthe house which they occupied. Matthews had been buried the precedingday, and M'Crea, being well acquainted with the engagements whichsubsisted between the deceased and Mr. Dudley, had come thusunreasonably to demand the rent. He was not unconscious of theinhumanity and sordidness of this proceeding, and therefore endeavouredto disguise it by the usual pretences. All his funds were exhausted. Hecame not only in his own name, but in that of Mrs. Matthews his aunt,who was destitute of money to procure daily and indispensableprovision, and who was striving to collect a sufficient sum to enableher and the remains of her family to fly from a spot where their liveswere in perpetual danger.
These excuses were abundantly fallacious, but Mr. Dudley was too proudto solicit the forbearance of a man like this. He recollected that theengagement on his part was voluntary and explicit, and he disdained tourge his present exigences as reasons for retracting it. He expressedthe utmost readiness to comply with the demand, and merely desired himto wait till Miss Dudley returned. From the inquietudes with which theunusual duration of her absence had filled him, he was now relieved byher entrance.
With an indignant and desponding heart, she complied with her father'sdirections, and the money being reluctantly delivered, M'Crea took anhasty leave. She was too deeply interested in the fate of Mary Whistonto allow her thoughts to be diverted for the present into a new channel.She described the desolate condition of the girl to her father, andbesought him to think of something suitable to her relief.
Mr. Dudley's humanity would not suffer him to disapprove of hisdaughter's proceeding. He imagined that the symptoms of the patientportended a fatal issue. There were certain complicated remedies whichmight possibly be beneficial, but these were too costly, and theapplication would demand more strength than his daughter could bestow.He was unwilling, however, to leave any thing within his power untried.Pharmacy had been his trade, and he had reserved, for domestic use someof the most powerful evacuants. Constantia was supplied with some ofthese, and he consented that she should spend the night with her patientand watch their operation.
The unhappy Mary received whatever was o
ffered, but her stomach refusedto retain it. The night was passed by Constantia without closing hereyes. As soon as the day dawned, she prepared once more to summon thephysician, who had failed to comply with his promise. She had scarcelyleft the house, however, before she met him. He pleaded his numerousengagements in excuse for his last night's negligence, and desired herto make haste to conduct him to the patient.
Having scrutinized her symptoms, he expressed his hopelessness of herrecovery. Being informed of the mode in which she had been treated, hedeclared his approbation of it, but intimated, that these beingunsuccessful, all that remained was to furnish her with any liquid shemight choose to demand, and wait patiently for the event. During thisinterview the physician surveyed the person and dress of Constantia withan inquisitive eye. His countenance betrayed marks of curiosity andcompassion, and, had he made any approaches to confidence andfriendliness, Constantia would not have repelled them. His air wasbenevolent and candid, and she estimated highly the usefulness of acounsellor and friend in her present circumstances. Some motive,however, hindered him from tendering his services, and in a few momentshe withdrew.
Mary's condition hourly grew worse. A corroded and gangrenous stomachwas quickly testified by the dark hue and poisonous malignity of thematter which was frequently ejected from it. Her stuper gave place tosome degree of peevishness and restlessness. She drank the water thatwas held to her lips with unspeakable avidity, and derived from thissource a momentary alleviation of her pangs. Fortunately for herattendant her agonies were not of long duration. Constantia was absentfrom her bedside as rarely and for periods as short as possible. On thesucceeding night the sufferings of the patient terminated in death.
This event took place at two o'clock, in the morning,--an hour whosecustomary stillness was, if possible, increased tenfold by thedesolation of the city. The poverty of Mary and of her nurse; haddeprived the former of the benefits, resulting from the change of bedand clothes. Every thing about her was in a condition noisome anddetestable. Her yellowish and haggard visage, conspicuous by a feeblelight, an atmosphere freighted with malignant vapours, and remindingConstantia at every instant of the perils which encompassed her, theconsciousness of solitude and sensations of deadly sickness in her ownframe, were sufficient to intimidate a soul of firmer texture than hers.
She was sinking fast into helplessness, when a new train of reflectionsshowed her the necessity of perseverance. All that remained was toconsign the corpse to the grave. She knew that vehicles for this endwere provided at the public expense; that, notice being given of theoccasion there was for their attendance, at receptacle and carriage forthe dead would be instantly provided. Application at this hour, sheimagined, would be unseasonable: it must be deferred till the morning,which was yet at some distance.
Meanwhile to remain at her present post was equally useless anddangerous. She endeavoured to stifle the conviction that some mortalsickness had seized upon her own frame. Her anxieties of head andstomach she was willing to impute to extraordinary fatigue andwatchfulness, and hoped that they would be dissipated by an hour'sunmolested repose. She formed the resolution of seeking her own chamber.
At this moment, however, the universal silence underwent a slightinterruption. The sound was familiar to her ears. It was a signalfrequently repeated at the midnight hour during this season of calamity.It was the slow movement of a hearse, apparently passing along thestreet in which the alley where Mr. Dudley resided terminated. At firstthis sound had no other effect than to aggravate the dreariness of allaround her. Presently it occurred to her that this vehicle might bedisengaged. She conceived herself bound to see the last officesperformed for the deceased Mary. The sooner so irksome a duty wasdischarged the better: every hour might augment her incapacity forexertion. Should she be unable when the morning arrived to go as far asthe City-Hall, and give the necessary information, the most shockingconsequences would ensue. Whiston's house and her own were opposite eachother, and not connected with any on the same side. A narrow spacedivided them, and her own chamber was within the sphere of thecontagion which would flow, in consequence of such neglect, from that ofher neighbour.
Influenced by these considerations she passed into the street, andgained the corner of the alley just as the carriage, whose movements shehad heard, arrived at the same spot. It was accompanied by two men,negroes, who listened to her tale with respect. Having already a burdenof this kind, they could not immediately comply with this request. Theypromised that, having disposed of their present charge, they wouldreturn forthwith, and be ready to execute her orders.
Happily one of these persons was known to her. At other seasons hisoccupation was that of _wood-carter_, and as such he had performed someservices for Mr. Dudley. His temper was gentle and obliging. Thecharacter of Constantia had been viewed by him with reverence, and hiskindness had relieved her from many painful offices. His old occupationbeing laid aside for a time, he had betaken himself like many others ofhis colour and rank, to the conveyance and burial of the dead.
At Constantia's request, he accompanied her to Whiston's house, andpromised to bring with him such assistance as would render her furtherexertions and attendance unnecessary. Glad to be absolved from any newtask, she now retired to her own chamber. In spite of her distemperedframe, she presently sunk into a sweet sleep. She awoke not till the dayhad made considerable progress, and found herself invigorated andrefreshed. On re-entering Whiston's house, she discovered that herhumble friend had faithfully performed his promise, the dead body havingdisappeared. She deemed it unsafe, as well as unnecessary, to examinethe clothes and other property remaining; but, leaving every thing inthe condition in which it had been found, she fastened the windows anddoors, and thenceforth kept as distant from the house as possible.