“Nothing can please me more than to see Adkins lose the command of the ‘Lenore,’” interposed Wilton, “for I know that he is not an honest man; and that he has been all along robbing the widow. We must decide on some plan to convince Mrs Hyland, that she is placing confidence in a scoundrel.”
Wilton and Mason remained with me nearly an hour; and it was decided that nothing should be done openly, until my term of imprisonment should expire. We were then to ascertain when Adkins would be on a visit to Mrs Hyland’s house, when we should all three go together, meet him there, and tell Mrs Hyland the whole story of his falsehood and dishonesty.
“Should she not believe us, and still continue to trust him,” said Wilton, “then she deserves to be robbed, that’s my way of thinking.”
I thought the same, so far as robbing her of her worldly wealth; but it was bitter to believe that the rascal might also rob her of a jewel more priceless than all else—of Lenore. But I could not believe that the most insane folly on her part would deserve so extreme a punishment, as that of having Adkins for a son-in-law!
Mason gave me his address, so did Wilton, and I promised to call on them, as soon as I should be set at liberty.
They left me happy, and hopeful. I was happy, not because I was young, and in good health—not because I had found friends who would aid me in subduing an enemy; but because the beautiful Lenore had interested herself in my misfortunes, and was trying to remove them.
That was a theme for many long and pleasant reveries, which while they rendered me impatient to be free, at the same time enabled me to pass the remainder of my term of imprisonment, with but slight regard for the many petty annoyances and discomforts of the situation.
I accepted my liberty when it was at length given me; and on the same day went to visit Mason and Wilton.
What had been done already by Lenore, left me under the impression that she would still further aid me in establishing the truth. I felt confident, that she would not object to letting us know on what day and hour we might meet Adkins at her mother’s house; and with this confidence, I wrote a note to her, containing the request that she would do so. Then, in pleasant expectation of soon having an opportunity of clearing my character, I awaited the answer.
Volume One—Chapter Thirteen.
A Reckoning Up.
Lenore did not disappoint me. Two days after getting out of the prison, I received her reply—informing me that Adkins would be at her mother’s house the next day, and advising me to call with my friends, about half-past ten. I had made known to her the object of my desire to meet him.
After receiving her note, I went immediately to Mason and Wilton; and we appointed a place of rendezvous for the next morning.
That evening, I was as uneasy as the commander-in-chief of an army on the eve of a great battle. I had an enemy to confront and conquer—a reputation already sullied to restore to its former brightness.
I could not help some anxiety as to the result.
In the morning, I met my friends at the appointed place; and as the clock struck ten, we started for the residence of Mrs Hyland.
As we came within sight of the house, I perceived Lenore at the window. She recognised us, rose from her seat, and disappeared towards the back of the room. When I rang the bell, the door was opened by herself.
Without hesitating, she conducted us all three into the parlour, where we found Adkins and Mrs Hyland.
The latter appeared to be no little astonished by our unexpected entrance; but as for Adkins himself, he looked more like a frightened maniac than a man.
“What does this mean?” exclaimed Mrs Hyland, in a voice that expressed more alarm than indignation.
“These gentlemen have called to see you on business, mother,” said her daughter. “There is nothing to fear from them. They are our friends.”
Having said this, Lenore requested us to be seated; and we complied.
Adkins did not speak; but I could read from the play of his features, that he knew the game was up, and that he had lost.
“Mrs Hyland,” said Wilton, after a short interval of silence, “I have called here to do what I believe to be a duty, and which I ought to have done long ago. If I am doing any wrong, it is only through my ignorance of what’s right. I was your husband’s friend, and we sailed together, for nine years or thereabouts. I was on the ship ‘Lenore’ when Captain Hyland died, in New Orleans; and I have heard the stories that Mr Adkins here has told about this young man. Those stories are false. When in New Orleans, at the time of your husband’s death, Adkins was most of the time drunk, and neglecting his duty. Rowley did not desert from the ship, neither did he neglect the captain, but was the only one of the ship’s company with him, or taking care of him, when he died. Mr Adkins never liked Rowley; and the only reason I can think of for his not doing so, is just because it is natural for a bad man to dislike a good one. When Mr Adkins obtained the command of the ship, he would not let Rowley come aboard again—much less return in her to Liverpool. I made one voyage with Adkins as first mate after Captain Hyland’s death, and learnt, while making it, that I could not continue with him any longer—unless I should become nearly as bad as himself. For that reason I left the ship.
“Mrs Hyland!” continued Wilton, fixing his eye upon Adkins, and speaking with determined emphasis, “I have no hesitation in pronouncing Mr Adkins to be a wicked, deceitful man, who has been robbing you under the cloak of friendship; and still continues to rob you.”
“These men have formed a conspiracy to ruin me!” cried Adkins, springing to his feet. “I suppose they will succeed in doing it. Three men and one woman are more than I can contend against!”
Mrs Hyland paid no attention to this remark; but, turning to Mason, said, “I believe that you are Mr Mason, the steward of the ‘Lenore.’ What have you to say?”
“I have to state that all Mr Wilton has told you, is true,” said Mason. “Rowley, to my knowledge, has never done anything to forfeit your friendship. I have long known that Captain Adkins was a scoundrel; and my desire to expose him—overcome by the fact that I have a large family to support, and was afraid of losing my situation—has caused me to pass many a sleepless hour. I had made up my mind not to go another voyage along with him—before learning that my testimony was wanted in aid of Rowley here. On hearing that he had robbed the young man—not only of his old friends, but of his liberty—I no longer hesitated about exposing him. He is a dishonest villain; and I can prove it by having the ship’s accounts overhauled.”
“Go on! go on!” cried Adkins. “You have it all your own way now. Of course, my word is nothing.”
“He is telling the truth for once in his life,” said Mason to Mrs Hyland. “For his word is just worth nothing, to any one who knows him.”
“Now, Rowland,” said Mrs Hyland, “what have you to say?”
“Very little,” I answered. “I did not wish you to think ill of me. There is nothing that can wound the feelings more than ingratitude; and the kindness with which you once treated me, was the reason why I have been so desirous of proving to you that I have not been ungrateful. You have now evidence that will enable you to judge between Adkins and myself; and after this interview, I will trouble you no more, for I do not desire to insist upon a renewal of the friendship you have suspected. I only wished you to know that I had given you no cause for discontinuing it.”
“Now,