ARTHUR
85

Eliza's security is the object that now grabs my attention. Sleep, according to his example, was the most appropriate; but my uncertainty with respect to his fate, and my desire to take him to another house, kept my mind moving. I waited impatiently until he woke up and allowed me to consult him about future plans.

His sleep did not end until the next day. After recalling what had recently happened, he asked his sister. He wanted to once again see the face and kiss the lips of his beloved Susan. The bit of relief from his suffering that he had expected came from this privilege.

When told the truth, when convinced that Susan had disappeared forever, she exploded into a new passion. It seemed like her loss was not in vain or complete as long as she suffered to see her friend's face and touch her lips. He accused me of acting without a warrant and without justice; deceived him from his dearest and only consolation; and treated the sacred remains of his sister with barbaric indifference and rudeness.

I explain in the most gentle terms the reason for my behavior. I was not surprised or annoyed that he, at first, treated them as pointless, and escalated my offense. Such was the impulse of grief that was truly awakened by his loss. Being calm and steadfast, in the midst of the usual causes of impatience and suffering, is the prerogative of wisdom that elevates itself above all selfish considerations, or a badge of dizzy and callous ignorance.

Torrent is finally over. The anger has ended; and the gratitude, and the gentleness, and the agreement implied in whatever scheme my wisdom should suggest, succeeded. I refer to his uncle as a proper person, in his current distress, to propose.

He started and showed unease at this name. It was clear that he did not agree with me at all in my sense of propriety; he thought with reluctance to seek the protection of his uncle. I asked him to express his objection to this scheme, or mention something else that he thought was better.

He doesn't know anyone. He has no friends in this world but myself. He never left his father's house. He has no relationship except for his uncle Philip, and he can't stay with him. I can't force her to go to her house. That's not the place for him. He should never be happy there.

I, at first, tended to suspect my friend of being a fickle and unfounded antipathy. I want him to explain what in his uncle's character makes him so annoying. He refused to be more explicit, and continued to think that his house was not suitable for him.

Finding it, in this case, invincible, I looked for some other way. Could it be that he was not easily accommodated as a hostel in a city, or a village, or in a remote area of the country? Ellis, his closest and most luxurious neighbor, had refused to accept him; but there were others who were not afraid of him. There are others, within the distance of a day's journey, who do not know the cause of Hadwin's death; but is it innocent to take advantage of that ignorance? Their compliance should not be the result of fraud.

While engaging so, the incident of my late trip reoccurs in my memory, and I ask, "Isn't the honest woman, who comforts Wallace, just the person I'm looking for? Her treatment of Wallace shows her.released from chimerical fear, proving that she has rooms in her house for occasional inmates."

Encouraged by this view, I told my weeping colleague that I had remembered a family where he would be treated well; and that, if he chose, he chose, we won't lose time to improve there. Horses, belonging to farms, graze on pastures, and some of them will take us within a few hours to the place I have chosen for his residence. Upon his eager consent to this proposal, I asked in whose care, and under what circumstances, our current residence should be abandoned.

The father's property now belongs to his daughter. Eliza's mind is quick, active, and intelligent; but her experience at all times makes her seem foolish. He was eager to fly from this house, and to surrender himself and his property, without any restrictions or conditions, into my control. Our relationship was short-lived, but he relied on my protection and advice just as he used to do with his father.

He didn't know what answer to give my question. Whatever I'm happy to do is the best. What do I think should be done?

"Aah!" think me, "sweet girl, without art, and simple! what's your fate, if Heaven doesn't send me to help you? There are beings in the world who will use your confidence for their own sake; who will deceive you as well as innocence and possessions. That wasn't me. Your well-being is a precious treat, and no father or brother can take care of it with more care than I would."

I am aware that Mr. Hadwin may have set the goals of his estate, and the guardianship of his daughter, by a will. When suggesting this to my friend, it instantly reminded him of an incident that occurred after his last return from the city. He had compiled his will, and gave it to Susan, who put it in the drawer, which my friend had now taken.

By this will, his property is now known to be passed down to his two daughters; and his brother, Philip Hadwin, was appointed executor, and guardian to his daughters until they were twenty years old. This name was immediately heard by my friend, then he exclaimed in a frightened tone, "Executor! My uncle! Whatisit? What power was given to him?"

"Should he decide where I'm going to stay?"

"He has all the power of a father."

This assurance raised the deepest concerns. He turned his eyes to the ground, and got lost, for a while, in the deepest daydreams. After recovering, he said, sighing, "What if my father doesn't make a will?"

"In this case, a guardian cannot be dispensed with, but the right to name it will be your own."

"And my uncle won't have anything to do with my business?"

"I'm not a lawyer" I said; "but I assume all authority over yourself and your property will be left to a guardian of your own choice."

"Then I'm free." Saying this, with a sudden movement, he tore off some parts of the will, which, during this dialogue, he held in his hand, and threw the pieces into the fire.

There is no action more unexpected to me than this. My astonishment prevented me from trying to save the paper from the fire. It was consumed in an instant. I was confused as to what way to consider this sacrifice. It showed a slight strength of mind in tandem with the simplicity and helplessness that this girl had displayed until now. He argued the deepest concern of persecution from his uncle. Whether his behavior justifies this cruel antipathy, I have no way of judging. The election of Mr. Hadwin as his executor is certainly one of the proofs of his integrity.

My abstraction was noticed by Eliza with visible anxiety. It was clear that he was afraid of the impression this act of courage had made of me. "Don't be mad at me" he said; "Maybe I was wrong, but I can't help it. I'll only have one guardian and one protector."

The deed cannot be withdrawn. In my current ignorance of Hadwin's family's domestic history, I am not qualified to judge how far the circumstances can alleviate or justify such actions. Therefore, in both cases, it is not appropriate to discuss it.

It was decided to hand over home care to the honest Caleb; to tie up the closets and drawers, and, taking away the money found in one of them, and whose numbers were not few, he said, to repair the previously mentioned house. The air was cold; heavy snow began to fall at night; the wind was blowing strong; and we were forced to face it.

While leaving her residence, where she had spent her entire life, the unhappy girl gave way again to her grief. It made him weak and helpless. When placed on a horse, he could barely maintain his seat. Already chilled by the cold, blinded by the drifting snow, and cut off by the explosion, all my resistance was needed to inspire him with resolution.

I was not used to paying attention to the elements, or letting them hinder or distract me from whatever design I had formed. I had ignored the frail and fragile skeleton of my colleague, and did not take into account that he was less able to withstand the cold and fatigue than I was alone. It was only after we made some progress on our journey that I began to see, in their actual light, the obstacles to be faced. I understood it, however, was too late to back off, and tried to advance quickly.

My colleague was a skilled rider, but his horse was fireproof and uncontrollable. He was able, however, to curb his spirit until we walked ten or twelve miles from Malverton . The wind and cold became too fierce to last any longer, and I decided to stop at the first house I should have seen, for the sake of freshness and warmth.