Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a eee JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. bee IT forgot!” responded Mr. Dorchester. “The brigands stronghold is some dozen miles distant in that direction,’—and he accompanied the words with a suitable indication; “ while Pis- toja is some five-and-thirty miles in that direc- tion.”’ gt | have special reasons for needing this intelli- “for this very night I have escaped from the hands of a detachment of those brigands, who, by violence, brought me all the gence,” I observed: way from Florence.” ** My poor young friend,” said Mr. Dorchester, “how you must have suffered !—and how rejoiced I am that you have found your way hither!” I know not how it was, but just at that mo- ment a suspicion—vague, dim, and distant—began to take birth in my mind; and looking hard at Mr. Dorchester, I said to him, “ Methinks that you have already given me up so much of that valuable time which you appear to devote to pur- poses of religious study and of prayer a “T shall only lie down to rest an hour later on that account,” was his grave answer interruptingly given. “In the meanwhile, do you stretch your wearied limbs upon that humble pallet of mine.” “{ thank you,” I rejoined: “but as I have rested half-an-hour, and my horse is refreshed, I will pursue my way, now that I know in which direc- tion lies the path to Pistoja.” “Do as you will, my young friend,” said Mr. Dorchester: “but if you think fit to tarry until sunrise, I will myself escort you some two or three miles upon your way; so that from the point where I shall take leave of you, you cannot possibly fail to pursue the right road towards Pistoja.” I reflected for a few moments. Was the man sincerely contrite P or was all this merely another phase in his detestable hypocrisies? I feared the latter. Now that I had leisure for deliberation, and was recovered from the surprise into which I was at first thrown by finding him entombed in this cavern in the midst of the Apennines, I was not altogether credulous in respect to his days and nights of pious studies and religious readings. If he were a villain, then what was the nature of the villainy thatgwas here cloaked under the seeming garb of anchoritism? ‘Was he avillain on his own account alone? or had he accomplices near at hanc? In a word, should I remain there till morning? or should I depart at once P—and if by adopting this latter course, should I avoid falling into any snare which he ‘might otherwise be en- rie to set for the achievement of my destruc- tion | I looked at him again; and methought that his eyes were instantaneously withdrawn from my countenance, as if they had a moment before been regarding me with a furtive scrutiny. Now I was almost completely convinced that he was still a scoundrel and still a hypocrite. Then, too, other little circumstances flashed to my mind, There was something most outrageously affected and in- deed unnatural in the way in which he had con- tinued to study his volume when I first approached the cave: it was not probable that however peni- tent and religious, he would have been so com- pletely absorbed in his studies as to remain deaf or indifferent to the approach of a traveller. Moreover I remembered that he had started per- jecture ! 101 no doubt because my voice, sounding familiar to his ear, was at once recognised; and the long speech of which he had immediately afterwards delivered himself, bidding me make myself wel- come so long as I intruded not on his pious avyoca- tions, was to throw me off my guard and lead me to fancy that not having recognised my voice, he was speaking to me just as he would have spoken to any one who was really a stranger. All these circumstances and recollections sweep- ing through my mind, brought me to the positive conviction that he still wore the garb of hypocrisy in order to conceal the darkest villany of purpose. My decision was therefore to depart at once: but yet I thought it better not to suffer him to per- ceive that I suspected him,—unless indeed he had already fathomed, with hig extreme shrewdness, the misgivings which had arisen in my mind. “ Thanks for the offer of your pallet and your escort in the morning,’ I said: “ but I will take my departure now.” “ Be it so,” responded Mr. Dorchester, with an air so calm and with a look so completely inno- cent, that I was staggered, and was half-inclined to fancy that by my suspicions I had done him wrong. ‘Take up your hat,” he continued: “perhaps too you will put that flask of strong waters in your pocket—it will refresh you in your ‘ride during the rest of the night.” While he was thus speaking, he re-lighted the lantern ; and JI, still uncertain what to think—and consequently more than ever anxious to avoid the betrayal of my misgivings—chose not to hurt his feelings, if they were sincere, by the refusal of the flask of spirits. I accordingly consigned the flask to my pocket, and turned towards the pallet to take up my hat. As I looked around again, Dorchester was just passing out of the cave ; and he was hurriedly closing the door upon me. I sprang forward—but too late: the door banged violently—and I heard a huge bolt closing outside. I threw myself with all my force against that door: I might as well have endeavoured to beat down the solid wall of rock itself: for the door was as massive and as firmly fixed in its setting as that of the strongest prison. Still I did not at once abandon every attempt to effect an egress. The candle, in its clay supporter, had been left burning upon the table: I placed it upon the shelf—and using that table as a battering- ram, drove it with all my might against the door. It was a heavy table, rudely constructed, with little of the carpenter’s art; and it made the door shake ;—but beyond this effect none other was produced. I battered and battered away until breathless and exhausted—but all in vain. At length I was compelled to acknowledge unto my- self the futility of these endeavours; and sitting down, I marvelled, amidst bitter reflections, as to what fate would now be in store for me. Perhaps the miscreant Dorchester was himself in league with Marco Uberti’s band? Ah, there was something frightfully probable in this con- Had he not assured me that it was one of his avocations, and therefore one of his self- imposed expiations, to guide travellers away from , those paths which would lead them into the lion’s den ?—but would it not now be far more rational for me to interpret the hypocritical villain’s de- ceptibly when I first addressed him; and this was jclaration by the rule of contraries? Yes: and Ghboo (CS)