Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

1,00 “ Whoever you are,” I at length said, speaking in French, “may I solicit your hospitality for a few hours P” He evidently started as I thus addressed him ; and therefore I at once perceived that he was not deaf. “ Hnter, and be welcome,” he replied, without moving his hand from his head, or changing his posture in the slightest degree. “I am an un- happy man who for many reasons has secluded himself from the world, and whose days—aye, and whose nights also, are occupied in atoning for the errors of an ill-spent life. Enter therefore, I say. You will find meat and drink, which I keep for wanderers and wayfarers such as you yourself are. There is a pallet whereupon to stretch your limbs: im an adjacent cave you may stable your horse ; and all I demand in return for such poor hospi- tality as I may be enabled to afford, is that you will remain silent and interrupt me not in my avoca- tions.” The anchorite spoke in French, but with a foreign accent which unmistakeably denoted the Englishman: and as he continued to address me without for a single moment changing his posture, or removing his hand from his head, or looking towards me, the suspicion grew stronger and stronger in my mind that the voice was familiar to my ears. Holding the bridle of the horse, I advanced farther into the cave; and tapping the anchorite on the shoulder, said, “If I mistake not, it is Mr. Dorchester whom [I thus find in the midst of the Apennine wilds ?” “ Yes—it is that sinful and unfortunate man,” was the response : and now slowly raising his coun- tenance, he revealed to me the well-known features of him who had twice so infamously plundered me. “ And you are Joseph Wilmot,” he said, with a look most mournfully contrite: there was shame, too, apparently blending itself in that expression of his face; and clasping his hands together, he bent his head down upon them as they rested upon the open Bible—and methought that the sound of a stifled sob reached my ear. * Well, Mr. Dorchester,” I said, “if you be truly penitent, it is not from my lips that you will hear reproaches.” “ Penitent, Joseph ?” he answered, again slowly raising his countenance and looking up into mine: “do you think that unless a man were sincerely sorry for the deeds of which he had been guilty, he would come to bury himself amidst the wilds of the Apennines ?”’ “But your sentence of imprisonment in France ?” I said inquiringly. “On account of my good conduct,” rejoined Mr. Dorchester, “I was pardoned at the expi- ration of six months,—half the period of my con- demnation being thus remitted. But you, Joseph, —can you indeed speak kindly to one at whose hands % “Enough, Mr. Dorchester!” I interrupted him: “I do believe that you are penitent—and let the past be buried in oblivion.” “Ob, generous-hearted young man, how could IT ever have behaved so infamously towards you? Ah, I have often and often thought of you, Joseph —and in moments when the extremest bitterness of remorse has seized upon me, L have wept—I a JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. —_—__—. have sobbed — I have beaten my breast at the idea of my black villany towards yourself !” “Yes, I twice suffered cruelly, cruelly in conse- quence thereof,’ I answered, profoundly moved by Mr. Dorchester’s words, looks, and manner : “but it is all gone by now—and let it be likewise forgotten.” He took my hand, pressed it between both his own, and shaking it for some moments, murmured in a broken voice, “ God bless you, young man— God bless you! You know not what comfort you have infused into my soul. But tell me,” he said, after a brief pause, during which the strength of his emotions appeared to have sub- sided; “wherefore are you a wanderer amidst these rude and savage mountain passes P” “First let me stable my steed,” I said: “then give me a morsel of food—and I will explain my position.” “For no other person but yourself, Joseph,” answered Mr. Dorchester, “ would I rise from the midst of these holy studies of mine until the dawn of morning glimmered over the eastern height. But for you it is different!’ Thus speaking, he lighted a lantern, and led the way to another cave about twenty yards distant, and hollowed out of the same frontage of rock. It was more spacious than that which formed his own habitation: but it had no door. There was @ quantity of dried grass piled up within,—thus affording provender for the animal. A streamlet rippled nigh: Mr. Dorchester hastened to fill a pail with the limpid element, also for the steed’s behoof; and a wooden bar fastened across the en- trance of the cavern, closed it sufficiently against the horse’s egress. We then returned to the first-mentioned cave; and Mr. Dorchester bustled about to set upon the table such provision as was immediately available. I made a hearty meal, which I washed down with some spirits and water; and while I was thus en- gaged, Mr. Dorchester forbore from questioning me. The-hospitalities of his strange mountain- habitation were proffered with every appearance of cordiality and good feeling, so that I felt even grateful to him for his attentions; and my assur- ance of the past being forgiven was not a mere verbal formality. “ And now, my young friend,” he said, when I had finished my meal, “if you will permit me, under all circumstances, to denominate you a friend —pray tell me how it is that I find you thus wan- dering amidst the Apennines?” “In the first place tell me,” I exclaimed, “and this is a question that I almost wonder I did not ask at the very first,—-tell me how far distant is Marco Uberti’s stronghold P” “What! that dreadful bandit ?” ejaculated Mr. Dorchester, with a visible start: then lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, as if the very walls of his cave had ears, he said, “I am happy to in- form you, Joseph, that it is one of my avocations, and therefore one mode by which I seek to atone for the past, to guide travellers in such a route that they may avoid falling into the hands of that execrable ruffian and his equally villanous myrmi- dons.” “Then are you indeed doing good service to the cause of humanity!” I exclaimed. “ But you have not answered my question r EGhboo ‘S (©)