EDGAR HUNTLY

or, MEMOIRS OF A SLEEP-WALKER

by

CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN

To the Public:

The flattering reception that has been given, by the public, to ArthurMervyn, has prompted the writer to solicit a continuance of the samefavour, and to offer to the world a new performance. 

America has opened new views to the naturalist and politician, but hasseldom furnished themes to the moral painter. That new springs of actionand new motives to curiosity should operate, --that the field ofinvestigation, opened to us by our own country, should differessentially from those which exist in Europe, --may be readily conceived. The sources of amusement to the fancy and instruction to the heart, thatare peculiar to ourselves, are equally numerous and inexhaustible. It isthe purpose of this work to profit by some of these sources; to exhibita series of adventures, growing out of the condition of our country, andconnected with one of the most common and most wonderful diseases oraffections of the human frame. 

One merit the writer may at least claim:--that of calling forth thepassions and engaging the sympathy of the reader by means hithertounemployed by preceding authors. Puerile superstition and explodedmanners, Gothic castles and chimeras, are the materials usually employedfor this end. The incidents of Indian hostility, and the perils of theWestern wilderness, are far more suitable; and for a native of Americato overlook these would admit of no apology. These, therefore, are, inpart, the ingredients of this tale, and these he has been ambitious ofdepicting in vivid and faithful colours. The success of his efforts mustbe estimated by the liberal and candid reader. 

C. B. B. 

Chapter I. 

I sit down, my friend, to comply with thy request. At length does theimpetuosity of my fears, the transports of my wonder, permit me torecollect my promise and perform it. At length am I somewhat deliveredfrom suspense and from tremors. At length the drama is brought to animperfect close, and the series of events that absorbed my faculties, that hurried away my attention, has terminated in repose. 

Till now, to hold a steadfast pen was impossible; to disengage my sensesfrom the scene that was passing or approaching; to forbear to grasp atfuturity; to suffer so much thought to wander from the purpose whichengrossed my fears and my hopes, could not be. 

Yet am I sure that even now my perturbations are sufficiently stilledfor an employment like this? That the incidents I am going to relate canbe recalled and arranged without indistinctness and confusion? Thatemotions will not be reawakened by my narrative, incompatible with orderand coherence? Yet when I shall be better qualified for this task I knownot. Time may take away these headlong energies, and give me back myancient sobriety; but this change will only be effected by weakening myremembrance of these events. In proportion as I gain power over words, shall I lose dominion over sentiments. In proportion as my tale isdeliberate and slow, the incidents and motives which it is designed toexhibit will be imperfectly revived and obscurely portrayed. 

Oh, why art thou away at a time like this. Wert thou present, the officeto which my pen is so inadequate would easily be executed by my tongue. Accents can scarcely be too rapid; or that which words should fail toconvey, my looks and gestures would suffice to communicate. But I knowthy coming is impossible. To leave this spot is equally beyond my power. To keep thee in ignorance of what has happened would justly offend thee. There is no method of informing thee except by letter, and this methodmust I, therefore, adopt. 

How short is the period that has elapsed since thou and I parted, andyet how full of tumult and dismay has been my soul during that period!What light has burst upon my ignorance of myself and of mankind! Howsudden and enormous the transition from uncertainty to knowledge!

But let me recall my thoughts; let me struggle for so much composure aswill permit my pen to trace intelligible characters. Let me place inorder the incidents that are to compose my tale. I need not call on theeto listen. The fate of Waldegrave was as fertile of torment to thee asto me. His bloody and mysterious catastrophe equally awakened thy grief, thy revenge, and thy curiosity. Thou wilt catch from my story everyhorror and every sympathy which it paints. Thou wilt shudder with myforeboding and dissolve with my tears. As the sister of my friend, andas one who honours me with her affection, thou wilt share in all mytasks and all my dangers. 

You need not be reminded with what reluctance I left you. To reach thisplace by evening was impossible, unless I had set out early in themorning; but your society was too precious not to be enjoyed to the lastmoment. It was indispensable to be here on Tuesday, but my duty requiredno more than that I should arrive by sunrise on that day. To travelduring the night was productive of no formidable inconvenience. The airwas likely to be frosty and sharp, but these would not incommode one whowalked with speed. A nocturnal journey in districts so romantic and wildas these, through which lay my road, was more congenial to my temperthan a noonday ramble. 

By nightfall I was within ten miles of my uncle's house. As the darknessincreased, and I advanced on my way, my sensations sunk into melancholy. The scene and the time reminded me of the friend whom I had lost. Irecalled his features, and accents, and gestures, and mused withunutterable feelings on the circumstances of his death. 

My recollections once more plunged me into anguish and perplexity. Oncemore I asked, Who was his assassin? By what motives could he be impelledto a deed like this? Waldegrave was pure from all offence. His piety wasrapturous. His benevolence was a stranger to remissness or torpor. Allwho came within the sphere of his influence experienced and acknowledgedhis benign activity. His friends were few, because his habits were timidand reserved; but the existence of an enemy was impossible. 

I recalled the incidents of our last interview, my importunities that heshould postpone his ill-omened journey till the morning, hisinexplicable obstinacy, his resolution to set out on foot during a darkand tempestuous night, and the horrible disaster that befell him. 

The first intimation I received of this misfortune, the insanity ofvengeance and grief into which I was hurried, my fruitless searches forthe author of this guilt, my midnight wanderings and reveries beneaththe shade of that fatal elm, were revived and reacted. I heard thedischarge of the pistol, I witnessed the alarm of Inglefield, I heardhis calls to his servants, and saw them issue forth with lights andhasten to the spot whence the sound had seemed to proceed. I beheld myfriend, stretched upon the earth, ghastly with a mortal wound, alone, with no traces of the slayer visible, no tokens by which his place ofrefuge might be sought, the motives of his enmity or his instruments ofmischief might be detected. 

I hung over the dying youth, whose insensibility forbade him torecognise his friend, or unfold the cause of his destruction. Iaccompanied his remains to the grave; I tended the sacred spot where helay; I once more exercised my penetration and my zeal in pursuit of hisassassin. Once more my meditations and exertions were doomed to bedisappointed. 

I need not remind thee of what is past. Time and reason seemed to havedissolved the spell which made me deaf to the dictates of duty anddiscretion. Remembrances had ceased to agonize, to urge me to headlongacts and foster sanguinary purposes. The gloom was half dispersed, and aradiance had succeeded sweeter than my former joys. 

Now, by some unseen concurrence of reflections, my thoughts revertedinto some degree of bitterness. Methought that to ascertain the hand whokilled my friend was not impossible, and to punish the crime was just. That to forbear inquiry or withhold punishment was to violate my duty tomy God and to mankind. The impulse was gradually awakened that bade meonce more to seek the elm; once more to explore the ground; toscrutinize its trunk. What could I expect to find? Had it not been ahundred times examined? Had I not extended my search to the neighbouringgroves and precipices? Had I not pored upon the brooks, and pried intothe pits and hollows, that were adjacent to the scene of blood?

Lately I had viewed this conduct with shame and regret; but in thepresent state of my mind it assumed the appearance of conformity withprudence, and I felt myself irresistibly prompted to repeat my search. Some time had elapsed since my departure from this district, --timeenough for momentous changes to occur. Expedients that formerly wereuseless might now lead instantaneously to the end which I sought. Thetree which had formerly been shunned by the criminal might, in theabsence of the avenger of blood, be incautiously approached. Thoughtlessor fearless of my return, it was possible that he might, at this moment, be detected hovering near the scene of his offences. 

Nothing can be pleaded in extenuation of this relapse into folly. Myreturn, after an absence of some duration, into the scene of thesetransactions and sufferings, the time of night, the glimmering of thestars, the obscurity in which external objects were wrapped, and which, consequently, did not draw my attention from the images of fancy, may insome degree account for the revival of those sentiments and resolutionswhich immediately succeeded the death of Waldegrave, and which, duringmy visit to you, had been suspended. 

You know the situation of the elm, in the midst of a private road, onthe verge of Norwalk, near the habitation of Inglefield, but three milesfrom my uncle's house. It was now my intention to visit it. The road inwhich I was travelling led a different way. It was requisite to leaveit, therefore, and make a circuit through meadows and over steeps. Myjourney would, by these means, be considerably prolonged; but on thathead I was indifferent, or rather, considering how far the night hadalready advanced, it was desirable not to reach home till the dawn. 

I proceeded in this new direction with speed. Time, however, was allowedfor my impetuosities to subside, and for sober thoughts to take place. Still I persisted in this path. To linger a few moments in this shade, to ponder on objects connected with events so momentous to my happiness, promised me a mournful satisfaction. I was familiar with the way, thoughtrackless and intricate, and I climbed the steeps, crept through thebrambles, leaped the rivulets and fences with undeviating aim, till atlength I reached the craggy and obscure path which led to Inglefield'shouse. 

In a short time, I descried through the dusk the widespread branches ofthe elm. This tree, however faintly seen, cannot be mistaken foranother. The remarkable bulk and shape of its trunk, its position in themidst of the way, its branches spreading into an ample circumference, made it conspicuous from afar. My pulse throbbed as I approached it. 

My eyes were eagerly bent to discover the trunk and the area beneath theshade. These, as I approached, gradually became visible. The trunk wasnot the only thing which appeared in view. Somewhat else, which madeitself distinguishable by its motions, was likewise noted. I falteredand stopped. 

To a casual observer this appearance would have been unnoticed. To me, it could not but possess a powerful significance. All my surmises andsuspicions instantly returned. This apparition was human, it wasconnected with the fate of Waldegrave, it led to a disclosure of theauthor of that fate. What was I to do? To approach unwarily would alarmthe person. Instant flight would set him beyond discovery and reach. 

I walked softly to the roadside. The ground was covered with rockymasses, scattered among shrub-oaks and dwarf-cedars, emblems of itssterile and uncultivated state. Among these it was possible to eludeobservation and yet approach near enough to gain an accurate view ofthis being. 

At this time, the atmosphere was somewhat illuminated by the moon, which, though it had already set, was yet so near the horizon as tobenefit me by its light. The shape of a man, tall and robust, was nowdistinguished. Repeated and closer scrutiny enabled me to perceive thathe was employed in digging the earth. Something like flannel was wrappedround his waist and covered his lower limbs. The rest of his frame wasnaked. I did not recognise in him any one whom I knew. 

A figure, robust and strange, and half naked, to be thus employed, atthis hour and place, was calculated to rouse up my whole soul. Hisoccupation was mysterious and obscure. Was it a grave that he wasdigging? Was his purpose to explore or to hide? Was it proper to watchhim at a distance, unobserved and in silence, or to rush upon him andextort from him, by violence or menaces, an explanation of the scene?

Before my resolution was formed, he ceased to dig. He cast aside hisspade and sat down in the pit that he had dug. He seemed wrapped inmeditation; but the pause was short, and succeeded by sobs, at first lowand at wide intervals, but presently louder and more vehement. Sorelycharged was indeed that heart whence flowed these tokens of sorrow. Never did I witness a scene of such mighty anguish, such heart-burstinggrief. 

What should I think? I was suspended in astonishment. Every sentiment, at length, yielded to my sympathy. Every new accent of the mournerstruck upon my heart with additional force, and tears found their wayspontaneously to my eyes. I left the spot where I stood, and advancedwithin the verge of the shade. My caution had forsaken me, and, insteadof one whom it was duty to persecute, I beheld, in this man, nothing butan object of compassion. 

My pace was checked by his suddenly ceasing to lament. He snatched thespade, and, rising on his feet, began to cover up the pit with theutmost diligence. He seemed aware of my presence, and desirous of hidingsomething from my inspection. I was prompted to advance nearer and holdhis hand, but my uncertainty as to his character and views, theabruptness with which I had been ushered into this scene, made me stillhesitate; but, though I hesitated to advance, there was nothing tohinder me from calling. 

"What, ho!" said I. "Who is there? What are you doing?"

He stopped: the spade fell from his hand; he looked up and bent forwardhis face towards the spot where I stood. An interview and explanationwere now, methought, unavoidable. I mustered up my courage to confrontand interrogate this being. 

He continued for a minute in his gazing and listening attitude. Where Istood I could not fail of being seen, and yet he acted as if he sawnothing. Again he betook himself to his spade, and proceeded with newdiligence to fill up the pit. This demeanour confounded and bewilderedme. I had no power but to stand and silently gaze upon his motions. 

The pit being filled, he once more sat upon the ground, and resignedhimself to weeping and sighs with more vehemence than before. In a shorttime the fit seemed to have passed. He rose, seized the spade, andadvanced to the spot where I stood. 

Again I made preparation as for an interview which could not but takeplace. He passed me, however, without appearing to notice my existence. He came so near as almost to brush my arm, yet turned not his head toeither side. My nearer view of him made his brawny arms and loftystature more conspicuous; but his imperfect dress, the dimness of thelight, and the confusion of my own thoughts, hindered me from discerninghis features. He proceeded with a few quick steps along the road, butpresently darted to one side and disappeared among the rocks and bushes. 

My eye followed him as long as he was visible, but my feet were rootedto the spot. My musing was rapid and incongruous. It could not fail toterminate in one conjecture, that this person was _asleep_. Suchinstances were not unknown to me, through the medium of conversation andbooks. Never, indeed, had it fallen under my own observation till now, and now it was conspicuous, and environed with all that could give edgeto suspicion and vigour to inquiry. To stand here was no longer of use, and I turned my steps towards my uncle's habitation. 

Chapter II. 

I had food enough for the longest contemplation. My steps partook, asusual, of the vehemence of my thoughts, and I reached my uncle's gatebefore I believed myself to have lost sight of the elm. I looked up anddiscovered the well-known habitation. I could not endure that myreflections should so speedily be interrupted. I therefore passed thegate, and stopped not till I had reached a neighbouring summit, crownedwith chestnut-oaks and poplars. 

Here I more deliberately reviewed the incidents that had just occurred. The inference was just, that the man, half clothed and digging, was asleeper; but what was the cause of this morbid activity? What was themournful vision that dissolved him in tears, and extorted from himtokens of inconsolable distress? What did he seek, or what endeavour toconceal, in this fatal spot? The incapacity of sound sleep denotes amind sorely wounded. It is thus that atrocious criminals denote thepossession of some dreadful secret. The thoughts, which considerationsof safety enable them to suppress or disguise during wakefulness, operate without impediment, and exhibit their genuine effects, when thenotices of sense are partly excluded and they are shut out from aknowledge of their entire condition. 

This is the perpetrator of some nefarious deed. What but the murder ofWaldegrave could direct his steps hither? His employment was part ofsome fantastic drama in which his mind was busy. To comprehend itdemands penetration into the recesses of his soul. But one thing issure: an incoherent conception of his concern in that transactionbewitches him hither. This it is that deluges his heart with bitternessand supplies him with ever-flowing tears. 

But whence comes he? He does not start from the bosom of the earth, orhide himself in airy distance. He must have a name and a terrestrialhabitation. It cannot be at an immeasurable distance from the hauntedelm. Inglefield's house is the nearest. This may be one of itsinhabitants. I did not recognise his features, but this was owing to thedusky atmosphere and to the singularity of his garb. Inglefield has twoservants, one of whom was a native of this district, simple, guileless, and incapable of any act of violence. He was, moreover, devoutlyattached to his sect. He could not be the criminal. 

The other was a person of a very different cast. He was an emigrant fromIreland, and had been six months in the family of my friend. He was apattern of sobriety and gentleness. His mind was superior to hissituation. His natural endowments were strong, and had enjoyed all theadvantage of cultivation. His demeanour was grave, and thoughtful, andcompassionate. He appeared not untinctured with religion; but hisdevotion, though unostentatious, was of a melancholy tenor. 

There was nothing in the first view of his character calculated toengender suspicion. The neighbourhood was populous. But, as I connedover the catalogue, I perceived that the only foreigner among us wasClithero. Our scheme was, for the most part, a patriarchal one. Eachfarmer was surrounded by his sons and kinsmen. This was an exception tothe rule. Clithero was a stranger, whose adventures and character, previously to his coming hither, were unknown to us. The elm wassurrounded by his master's domains. An actor there must be, and no onewas equally questionable. 

The more I revolved the pensive and reserved deportment of this man, theignorance in which we were placed respecting his former situation, hispossible motives for abandoning his country and choosing a station somuch below the standard of his intellectual attainments, the stronger mysuspicions became. Formerly, when occupied with conjectures relative tothe same topic, the image of this man did not fail to occur; but theseeming harmlessness of his ordinary conduct had raised him to a levelwith others, and placed him equally beyond the reach of suspicion. I didnot, till now, advert to the recentness of his appearance among us, andto the obscurity that hung over his origin and past life. But now theseconsiderations appeared so highly momentous as almost to decide thequestion of his guilt. 

But how were these doubts to be changed into absolute certainty?Henceforth this man was to become the subject of my scrutiny. I was togain all the knowledge, respecting him, which those with whom he lived, and were the perpetual witnesses of his actions, could impart. For thisend I was to make minute inquiries, and to put seasonableinterrogatories. From this conduct I promised myself an ultimatesolution of my doubts. 

I acquiesced in this view of things with considerable satisfaction. Itseemed as if the maze was no longer inscrutable. It would be quicklydiscovered who were the agents and instigators of the murder of myfriend. 

But it suddenly occurred to me, For what purpose shall I prosecute thissearch? What benefit am I to reap from this discovery? How shall Idemean myself when the criminal is detected? I was not insensible, atthat moment, of the impulses of vengeance, but they were transient. Idetested the sanguinary resolutions that I had once formed. Yet I wasfearful of the effects of my hasty rage, and dreaded an encounter inconsequence of which I might rush into evils which no time could repair, nor penitence expiate. 

"But why, " said I, "should it be impossible to arm myself with firmness?If forbearance be the dictate of wisdom, cannot it be so deeply engravenon my mind as to defy all temptation, and be proof against the mostabrupt surprise? My late experience has been of use to me. It has shownme my weakness and my strength. Having found my ancient fortificationsinsufficient to withstand the enemy, what should I learn from thence butthat it becomes me to strengthen and enlarge them?

"No caution, indeed, can hinder the experiment from being hazardous. Isit wise to undertake experiments by which nothing can be gained, andmuch may be lost? Curiosity is vicious, if undisciplined by reason, andinconducive to benefit. "

I was not, however, to be diverted from my purpose. Curiosity, likevirtue, is its own reward. Knowledge is of value for its own sake, andpleasure is annexed to the acquisition, without regard to any thingbeyond. It is precious even when disconnected with moral inducements andheartfelt sympathies; but the knowledge which I sought by its union withthese was calculated to excite the most complex and fiery sentiments inmy bosom. 

Hours were employed in revolving these thoughts. At length I began to besensible of fatigue, and, returning home, explored the way to my chamberwithout molesting the repose of the family. You know that our doors arealways unfastened, and are accessible at all hours of the night. 

My slumbers were imperfect, and I rejoiced when the morning lightpermitted me to resume my meditations. The day glided away, I scarcelyknow how, and, as I had rejoiced at the return of morning, I now hailed, with pleasure, the approach of night. 

My uncle and sisters having retired, I betook myself, instead offollowing their example, to the _Chestnut-hill_. Concealed amongits rocks, or gazing at the prospect which stretched so far and so widearound it, my fancy has always been accustomed to derive its highestenjoyment from this spot. I found myself again at leisure to recall thescene which I had witnessed during the last night, to imagine itsconnection with the fate of Waldegrave, and to plan the means ofdiscovering the secret that was hidden under these appearances. 

Shortly, I began to feel insupportable disquiet at the thoughts ofpostponing this discovery. Wiles and stratagems were practicable, butthey were tedious, and of dubious success. Why should I proceed like aplotter? Do I intend the injury of this person? A generous purpose willsurely excuse me from descending to artifices. There are two modes ofdrawing forth the secrets of another, --by open and direct means and bycircuitous and indirect. Why scruple to adopt the former mode? Why notdemand a conference, and state my doubts, and demand a solution of them, in a manner worthy of a beneficent purpose? Why not hasten to the spot?He may be, at this moment, mysteriously occupied under this shade. I maynote his behaviour; I may ascertain his person, if not by the featuresthat belong to him, yet by tracing his footsteps when he departs, andpursuing him to his retreats. 

I embraced this scheme, which was thus suggested, with eagerness. Ithrew myself with headlong speed down the hill and pursued my way to theelm. As I approached the tree, my palpitations increased, though my paceslackened. I looked forward with an anxious glance. The trunk of thetree was hidden in the deepest shade. I advanced close up to it. No onewas visible, but I was not discouraged. The hour of his coming was, perhaps, not arrived. I took my station at a small distance, beside afence, on the right hand. 

An hour elapsed before my eyes lighted on the object of which they werein search. My previous observation had been roving from one quarter toanother. At last, it dwelt upon the tree. The person whom I beforedescribed was seated on the ground. I had not perceived him before, andthe means by which he placed himself in this situation had escaped mynotice. He seemed like one whom an effort of will, without the exerciseof locomotion, had transported hither, or made visible. His state ofdisarray, and the darkness that shrouded him, prevented me, as before, from distinguishing any peculiarities in his figure or countenance. 

I continued watchful and mute. The appearances already described tookplace on this occasion, except the circumstance of digging in the earth. He sat musing for a while, then burst into sighs and lamentations. 

These being exhausted, he rose to depart. He stalked away with a solemnand deliberate pace. I resolved to tread, as closely as possible, in hisfootsteps, and not to lose sight of him till the termination of hiscareer. 

Contrary to my expectation, he went in a direction opposite to thatwhich led to Inglefield's. Presently, he stopped at bars, which hecautiously removed, and, when he had passed through them, asdeliberately replaced. He then proceeded along an obscure path, whichled across stubble-fields, to a wood. The path continued through thewood, but he quickly struck out of it, and made his way, seemingly atrandom, through a most perplexing undergrowth of bushes and briers. 

I was, at first, fearful that the noise which I made behind him, intrampling down the thicket, would alarm him; but he regarded it not. Theway that he had selected was always difficult: sometimes considerableforce was requisite to beat down obstacles; sometimes it led into a deepglen, the sides of which were so steep as scarcely to afford a footing;sometimes into fens, from which some exertions were necessary toextricate the feet, and sometimes through rivulets, of which the waterrose to the middle. 

For some time I felt no abatement of my speed or my resolution. Ithought I might proceed, without fear, through brakes and dells which myguide was able to penetrate. He was perpetually changing his direction. I could form no just opinion as to my situation or distance from theplace at which we had set out. 

I began at length to be weary. A suspicion, likewise, suggested itselfto my mind, whether my guide did not perceive that he was followed, andthus prolonged his journey in order to fatigue or elude his pursuer. Iwas determined, however, to baffle his design. Though the air wasfrosty, my limbs were bedewed with sweat and my joints were relaxed withtoil, but I was obstinately bent upon proceeding. 

At length a new idea occurred to me. On finding me indefatigable inpursuit, this person might resort to more atrocious methods ofconcealment. But what had I to fear? It was sufficient to be upon myguard. Man to man, I needed not to dread his encounter. 

We at last arrived at the verge of a considerable precipice. He keptalong the edge. From this height, a dreary vale was discoverable, embarrassed with the leafless stocks of bushes, and encumbered withrugged and pointed rocks. This scene reminded me of my situation. Thedesert tract called Norwalk, which I have often mentioned to you, mycuriosity had formerly induced me to traverse in various directions. Itwas in the highest degree rugged, picturesque, and wild. This vale, though I had never before viewed it by the glimpses of the moon, suggested the belief that I had visited it before. Such a one I knewbelonged to this uncultivated region. If this opinion were true, we wereat no inconsiderable distance from Inglefield's habitation. "Where, "said I, "is this singular career to terminate?"

Though occupied with these reflections, I did not slacken my pursuit. The stranger kept along the verge of the cliff, which gradually declinedtill it terminated in the valley. He then plunged into its deepestthickets. In a quarter of an hour he stopped under a projecture of therock which formed the opposite side of the vale. He then proceeded toremove the stalks, which, as I immediately perceived, concealed themouth of a cavern. He plunged into the darkness, and in a few momentshis steps were heard no more. 

Hitherto my courage had supported me, but here it failed. Was thisperson an assassin, who was acquainted with the windings of the grotto, and who would take advantage of the dark to execute his vengeance uponme, who had dared to pursue him to these forlorn retreats? or was hemaniac, or walker in his sleep? Whichever supposition were true, itwould be rash in me to follow him. Besides, he could not long remain inthese darksome recesses, unless some fatal accident should overtake him. 

I seated myself at the mouth of the cave, determined patiently to waittill he should think proper to emerge. This opportunity of rest wasexceedingly acceptable after so toilsome a pilgrimage. My pulse began tobeat more slowly, and the moisture that incommoded me ceased to flow. The coolness, which for a little time was delicious, presently increasedto shivering, and I found it necessary to change my posture, in order topreserve my blood from congealing. 

After I had formed a path before the cavern's mouth, by the removal ofobstructions, I employed myself in walking to and fro. In this situationI saw the moon gradually decline to the horizon, and, at length, disappear. I marked the deepenings of the shade, and the mutations whichevery object successively underwent. The vale was narrow, and hemmed inon all sides by lofty and precipitous cliffs. The gloom deepened as themoon declined, and the faintness of starlight was all that preserved mysenses from being useless to my own guidance. 

I drew nearer the cleft at which this mysterious personage had entered. I stretched my hands before it, determined that he should not emergefrom his den without my notice. His steps would, necessarily, communicate the tidings of his approach. He could not move without anoise which would be echoed to, on all sides, by the abruptness by whichthis valley was surrounded. Here, then, I continued till the day beganto dawn, in momentary expectation of the stranger's reappearance. 

My attention was at length excited by a sound that seemed to issue fromthe cave. I imagined that the sleeper was returning, and preparedtherefore to seize him. I blamed myself for neglecting the opportunitiesthat had already been afforded, and was determined that another shouldnot escape. My eyes were fixed upon the entrance. The rustlingincreased, and presently an animal leaped forth, of what kind I wasunable to discover. Heart-struck by this disappointment, but notdiscouraged, I continued to watch, but in vain. The day was advancingapace. At length the sun arose, and its beams glistened on the edges ofthe cliffs above, whose sapless stalks and rugged masses were coveredwith hoarfrost. I began to despair of success, but was unwilling todepart until it was no longer possible to hope for the return of thisextraordinary personage. Whether he had been swallowed up by some of theabysses of this grotto, or lurked near the entrance, waiting mydeparture, or had made his exit at another and distant aperture, wasunknown to me. 

Exhausted and discouraged, I prepared, at length, to return. It was easyto find my way out of this wilderness by going forward in one direction, regardless of impediments and cross-paths. My absence I believed to haveoccasioned no alarm to my family, since they knew not of my intention tospend the night abroad. Thus unsatisfactorily terminated this night'sadventures. 

Chapter III. 

The ensuing day was spent partly in sleep, and partly in languor anddisquietude. I incessantly ruminated on the incidents of the last night. The scheme that I had formed was defeated. Was it likely that thisunknown person would repeat his midnight visits to the elm? If he did, and could again be discovered, should I resolve to undertake a newpursuit, which might terminate abortively, or in some signal disaster?But what proof had I that the same route would be taken, and that hewould again inter himself alive in the same spot? Or, if he did, sincehis reappearance would sufficiently prove that the cavern was notdangerous, and that he who should adventure in might hope to come outagain in safety, why not enter it after him? What could be theinducements of this person to betake himself to subterranean retreats?The basis of all this region is _limestone_; a substance thateminently abounds in rifts and cavities. These, by the gradual decay oftheir cementing parts, frequently make their appearance in spots wherethey might have been least expected. My attention has often been excitedby the hollow sound which was produced by my casual footsteps, and whichshowed me that I trod upon the roof of caverns. A mountain-cave and therumbling of an unseen torrent are appendages of this scene, dear to myyouthful imagination. Many of romantic structure were found within theprecincts of Norwalk. 

These I had industriously sought out; but this had hitherto escaped myobservation, and I formed the resolution of some time exploring it. Atpresent I determined to revisit the elm, and dig in the spot where thisperson had been employed in a similar way. It might be that somethingwas here deposited which might exhibit this transaction in a new light. At the suitable hour, on the ensuing night, I took my former stand. Theperson again appeared. My intention to dig was to be carried into effecton condition of his absence, and was, consequently, frustrated. 

Instead of rushing on him, and breaking at once the spell by which hissenses were bound, I concluded, contrary to my first design, to wait hisdeparture, and allow myself to be conducted whithersoever he pleased. The track into which he now led me was different from the former one. Itwas a maze, oblique, circuitous, upward and downward, in a degree whichonly could take place in a region so remarkably irregular in surface, soabounding with hillocks and steeps and pits and brooks, as_Solesbury_. It seemed to be the sole end of his labours tobewilder or fatigue his pursuer, to pierce into the deepest thickets, toplunge into the darkest cavities, to ascend the most difficult heights, and approach the slippery and tremulous verge of the dizziestprecipices. 

I disdained to be outstripped in this career. All dangers wereoverlooked, and all difficulties defied. I plunged into obscurities, andclambered over obstacles, from which, in a different state of mind, andwith a different object of pursuit, I should have recoiled withinvincible timidity. When the scene had passed, I could not review theperils I had undergone without shuddering. 

At length my conductor struck into a path which, compared with theruggedness of that which we had lately trodden, was easy and smooth. This track led us to the skirt of the wilderness, and at no long time wereached an open field, when a dwelling appeared, at a small distance, which I speedily recognised to be that belonging to Inglefield. I nowanticipated the fulfilment of my predictions. My conductor directed hissteps towards the barn, into which he entered by a small door. 

How were my doubts removed! This was no other than Clithero Edny. Therewas nothing in his appearance incompatible with this conclusion. He andhis fellow-servant occupied an apartment in the barn as a lodging-room. This arduous purpose was accomplished, and I retired to the shelter of aneighbouring shed, not so much to repose myself after the fatigues of myextraordinary journey, as to devise further expedients. 

Nothing now remained but to take Clithero to task; to repeat to him theobservations of the two last nights; to unfold to him my conjectures andsuspicions; to convince him of the rectitude of my intentions; and toextort from him a disclosure of all the circumstances connected with thedeath of Waldegrave which it was in his power to communicate. 

In order to obtain a conference, I resolved to invite him to my uncle'sto perform a certain piece of work for me under my own eyes. He would, of course, spend the night with us, and in the evening I would take anopportunity of entering into conversation with him. 

A period of the deepest deliberation was necessary to qualify myself forperforming suitably my part in this projected interview. I attended tothe feelings that were suggested in this new state of my knowledge. Ifound reason to confide in my newly-acquired equanimity. "Remorse, " saidI, "is an ample and proper expiation for all offences. What doesvengeance desire but to inflict misery? If misery come, its desires areaccomplished. It is only the obdurate and exulting criminal that isworthy of our indignation. It is common for pity to succeed thebitterest suggestions of resentment. If the vengeful mind be delightedwith the spectacle of woes of its own contriving, at least its caninehunger is appeased, and thenceforth its hands are inactive. "

On the evening of the next day, I paid a visit to Inglefield. I wishedto impart to him the discoveries that I had made, and to listen to hisreflections on the subject. I likewise desired to obtain all possibleinformation from the family respecting the conduct of Clithero. 

My friend received me with his usual kindness. Thou art no stranger tohis character; thou knowest with what paternal affection I have everbeen regarded by this old man; with what solicitude the wanderings of myreason and my freaks of passion have been noted and corrected by him. Thou knowest his activity to save the life of thy brother, and the hoursthat have been spent by him in aiding my conjectures as to the cause ofhis death, and inculcating the lessons of penitence and duty. 

The topics which could not but occur at such a meeting were quicklydiscussed, and I hastily proceeded to that subject which was nearest myheart. I related the adventures of the two preceding nights, andmentioned the inference to which they irresistibly led. 

He said that this inference coincided with suspicions he had formed, since our last interview, in consequence of certain communications fromhis housekeeper. It seems the character of Clithero had, from the first, exercised the inquisitiveness of this old lady. She had carefully markedhis musing and melancholy deportment. She had tried innumerableexpedients for obtaining a knowledge of his past life, and particularlyof his motives for coming to America. These expedients, however profoundand addressful, had failed. He took no pains to elude them. He contentedhimself with turning a deaf ear to all indirect allusions and hints, and, when more explicitly questioned, with simply declaring that he hadnothing to communicate worthy of her notice. 

During the day he was a sober and diligent workman. His evenings hespent in incommunicative silence. On Sundays, he always rambled away, noone knew whither, and without a companion. I have already observed thathe and his fellow-servant occupied the same apartment in the barn. Thiscircumstance was not unattended to by Miss Inglefield. The name ofClithero's companion was Ambrose. This man was copiously interrogated byhis mistress, and she found him by no means so refractory as the other. 

Ambrose, in his tedious and confused way, related that, soon afterClithero and he had become bedfellows, the former was considerablydisturbed by restlessness and talking in his sleep. His discourse wasincoherent. It was generally in the tone of expostulation, and appearedto be entreating to be saved from some great injury. Such phrases asthese, --"have pity;" "have mercy, " were frequently intermingled withgroans, and accompanied with weeping. Sometimes he seemed to be holdingconferences with some one who was making him considerable offers oncondition of his performing some dangerous service. What he said in hisown person, and in answer to his imaginary tempter, testified the utmostreluctance. 

Ambrose had no curiosity on the subject. As this interruption preventedhim at first from sleeping, it was his custom to put an end to thedialogue, by awakening his companion, who betrayed tokens of great alarmand dejection on discovering how he had been employed. He wouldsolicitously inquire what were the words that he had uttered; butAmbrose's report was seldom satisfactory, because he had attended tothem but little, and because he grudged every moment in which he wasdeprived of his accustomed repose. 

Whether Clithero had ceased from this practice, or habit had reconciledhis companion to the sounds, they no longer occasioned any interruptionto his slumber. 

No one appeared more shocked than he at the death of Waldegrave. Afterthis event his dejection suddenly increased. This symptom was observedby the family, but none but the housekeeper took the trouble to noticeit to him, or build conjectures on the incident. During nights, however, Ambrose experienced a renewal of his ancient disturbances. He remarkedthat Clithero, one night, had disappeared from his side. Ambrose's rangeof reflection was extremely narrow. Quickly falling asleep, and findinghis companion beside him when he awoke, he dismissed it from his mind. 

On several ensuing nights he awakened in like manner, and always foundhis companion's place empty. The repetition of so strange an incident atlength incited him to mention it to Clithero. The latter was confoundedat this intelligence. He questioned Ambrose with great anxiety as to theparticulars of this event, but he could gain no satisfaction from thestupid inattention of the other. From this time there was a visibleaugmentation of his sadness. His fits of taciturnity became moreobstinate, and a deeper gloom sat upon his brow. 

There was one other circumstance, of particular importance, mentioned bythe housekeeper. One evening some one on horseback stopped at this gate. He rattled at the gate, with an air of authority, in token of his desirethat some one would come from the house. Miss Inglefield was employed inthe kitchen, from a window of which she perceived who it was that madethe signal. Clithero happened, at the same moment, to be employed nearher. She, therefore, desired him to go and see whom the stranger wanted. He laid aside his work and went. The conference lasted above fiveminutes. The length of it excited in her a faint degree of surprise, inducing her to leave her employment and pay an unintermitted attentionto the scene. There was nothing, however, but its duration that renderedit remarkable. 

Clithero at length entered, and the traveller proceeded. The countenanceof the former betrayed a degree of perturbation which she had neverwitnessed before. The muscles of his face were distorted and tremulous. He immediately sat down to his work, but he seemed, for some time, tohave lost all power over his limbs. He struggled to avoid the sight ofthe lady, and his gestures, irresolute or misdirected, betokened thedeepest dismay. After some time, he recovered, in some degree, hisself-possession; but, while the object was viewed through a new medium, and the change existed only in the imagination of the observer, a changewas certainly discovered. 

These circumstances were related to me by Inglefield and corroborated byhis housekeeper. One consequence inevitably flowed from them. Thesleep-walker, he who had led me through so devious a tract, was no otherthan Clithero. There was, likewise, a strong relation between this personand him who stopped at the gate. What was the subject of discourse betweenthem? In answer to Miss Inglefield's interrogatories, he merely saidthat the traveller inquired whither the road led which, at a smalldistance forward, struck out of the principal one. Considering thelength of the interview, it was not likely that this was the only topic. 

My determination to confer with him in private acquired new force fromthese reflections. Inglefield assented to my proposal. His own affairswould permit the absence of his servant for one day. I saw no necessityfor delay, and immediately made my request to Clithero. I was fashioningan implement, I told him, with respect to which I could not whollydepend upon my own skill. I was acquainted with the dexterity of hiscontrivances, and the neatness of his workmanship. He readily consentedto assist me on this occasion. Next day he came. Contrary to myexpectation, he prepared to return home in the evening. I urged him tospend the night with us: but no; it was equally convenient, and moreagreeable to him, to return. 

I was not aware of this resolution. I might, indeed, have foreseen that, being conscious of his infirmity, he would desire to avoid the scrutinyof strangers. I was painfully disconcerted; but it occurred to me, thatthe best that could be done was to bear him company, and seize someopportunity, during this interval, of effecting my purpose. I told him, that, since he would not remain, I cared not if, for the sake ofrecreation, and of a much more momentous purpose, I went along with him. He tacitly, and without apparent reluctance, consented to my scheme, and, accordingly, we set off together. This was an awful crisis. Thetime had now come that was to dissipate my uncertainty. By what meansshould I introduce a topic so momentous and singular? I had beenqualified by no experience for rightly conducting myself on so criticalan emergency. My companion preserved a mournful and inviolable silence. He afforded me no opening by which I might reach the point in view. Hisdemeanour was sedate, while I was almost disabled, by the confusion ofmy thoughts, to utter a word. 

It was a dreadful charge that I was about to insinuate. I was to accusemy companion of nothing less than murder. I was to call upon him for anavowal of his^ guilt. I was to state the ground of my suspicions, anddesire him to confute or confirm them. In doing this, I was principallystimulated by an ungovernable curiosity; yet, if I intended not theconferring of a benefit, I did not, at least, purpose the infliction ofevil. I persuaded myself that I was able to exclude from my bosom allsanguinary or vengeful impulses; and that, whatever should be the issueof this conversation, my equanimity would be unsubdued. 

I revolved various modes of introducing the topic by which my mind wasengaged. I passed rapidly from one to another. None of them weresufficiently free from objection to allow me to adopt it. My perplexitybecame, every moment, more painful, and my ability to extricate myself, less. 

In this state of uncertainty, so much time elapsed, that the elm atlength appeared in sight. This object had somewhat of a mechanicalinfluence upon me. I stopped short, and seized the arm of my companion. Till this moment, he appeared to have been engrossed by his ownreflections, and not to have heeded those emotions which must have beensufficiently conspicuous in my looks. 

This action recalled him from his reverie. The first idea that occurredto him, when he had noticed my behaviour, was, that I was assailed bysome sudden indisposition. 

"What is the matter?" said he, in a tone of anxiety: "are you not well?"

"Yes, " replied I, --"perfectly well. But stop a moment; I have somethingto say to you. "

"To me?" answered he, with surprise. 

"Yes, " said I. "Let us turn down this path, " (pointing, at the sametime, to that along which I had followed him the preceding night. )

He now partook, in some degree, of my embarrassment. 

"Is there any thing particular?" said he, in a doubting accent. There hestopped. 

"Something, " I answered, "of the highest moment. Go with me down thispath. We shall be in less danger of interruption. "

He was irresolute and silent, but, seeing me remove the bars and passthrough them, he followed me. Nothing more was said till we entered thewood. I trusted to the suggestions of the moment. I had now gone too farto recede, and the necessity that pressed upon me supplied me withwords. I continued:--

"This is a remarkable spot. You may wonder why I have led you to it. Iought not to keep you in suspense. There is a tale connected with it, which I am desirous of telling you. For this purpose I have brought youhither. Listen to me. "

I then recapitulated the adventures of the two preceding nights. I addednothing, nor retrenched any thing. He listened in the deepest silence. From every incident, he gathered new cause of alarm. Repeatedly he wipedhis face with his handkerchief, and sighed deeply. I took no verbalnotice of these symptoms. I deemed it incumbent on me to repressnothing. When I came to the concluding circumstance, by which his personwas identified, he heard me without any new surprise. To this narrativeI subjoined the inquiries that I had made at Inglefield's, and theresult of those inquiries. I then continued in these words:--

"You may ask why I subjected myself to all this trouble. Themysteriousness of these transactions would have naturally suggestedcuriosity in any one. A transient passenger would probably have acted asI have done. But I had motives peculiar to myself. Need I remind you ofa late disaster? That it happened beneath the shade of this tree? Am Inot justified in drawing certain inferences from your behaviour? Whatthey are, I leave you to judge. Be it your task to confute or confirmthem. For this end I have conducted you hither. 

"My suspicions are vehement. How can they be otherwise? I call upon youto say whether they be just. "

The spot where we stood was illuminated by the moon, that had now risen, though all around was dark. Hence his features and person were easilydistinguished. His hands hung at his side. His eyes were downcast, andhe was motionless as a statue. My last words seemed scarcely to havemade any impression on his sense. I had no need to provide against thepossible suggestions of revenge. I felt nothing but the tenderness ofcompassion. I continued, for some time, to observe him in silence, andcould discover no tokens of a change of mood. I could not forbear, atlast, to express my uneasiness at the fixedness of his features andattitude. 

"Recollect yourself. I mean not to urge you too closely. This topic issolemn, but it need not divest you of the fortitude becoming a man. "

The sound of my voice startled him. He broke from me, looked up, andfixed his eyes upon me with an expression of affright. He shuddered andrecoiled as from a spectre. I began to repent of my experiment. I couldsay nothing suitable to this occasion. I was obliged to stand a silentand powerless spectator, and to suffer this paroxysm to subside ofitself. When its violence appeared to be somewhat abated, I resumed:--

"I can feel for you. I act not thus in compliance with a temper thatdelights in the misery of others. The explanation that I have solicitedis no less necessary for your sake than for mine. You are no stranger tothe light in which I viewed this man. You have witnessed the grief whichhis fate occasioned, and the efforts that I made to discover and drag topunishment his murderer. You heard the execrations that I heaped uponhim, and my vows of eternal revenge. You expect that, having detectedthe offender, I will hunt him to infamy and death. You are mistaken. Iconsider the deed as sufficiently expiated. 

"I am no stranger to your gnawing cares; to the deep and incurabledespair that haunts you, to which your waking thoughts are a prey, andfrom which sleep cannot secure you. I know the enormity of your crime, but I know not your inducements. Whatever they were, I see theconsequences with regard to yourself. I see proofs of that remorse whichmust ever be attendant on guilt. 

"This is enough. Why should the effects of our misdeeds beinexhaustible? Why should we be debarred from a comforter? Anopportunity of repairing our errors may, at least, be demanded from therulers of our destiny. 

"I once imagined that he who killed Waldegrave inflicted the greatestpossible injury on me. That was an error, which reflection has cured. Were futurity laid open to my view, and events, with their consequences, unfolded, I might see reason to embrace the assassin as my best friend. Be comforted. "

He was still incapable of speaking; but tears came to his relief. Without attending to my remonstrances, he betrayed a disposition toreturn. I had, hitherto, hoped for some disclosure, but now feared thatit was designed to be withheld. He stopped not till we reachedInglefield's piazza. He then spoke, for the first time, but in a hollowand tremulous voice:--

"You demand of me a confession of crimes. You shall have it. Some timeyou shall have it. When it will be, I cannot tell. Something must bedone, and shortly. "

He hurried from me into the house, and, after a pause, I turned mysteps home wards. My reflections, as I proceeded, perpetually revolvedround a single point. These were scarcely more than a repetition, withslight variations, of a single idea. 

When I awoke in the morning, I hied, in fancy, to the wilderness. I sawnothing but the figure of the wanderer before me. I traced his footstepsanew, retold my narrative, and pondered on his gestures and words. Mycondition was not destitute of enjoyment. My stormy passions hadsubsided into a calm, portentous and awful. My soul was big withexpectation. I seemed as if I were on the eve of being ushered into aworld whose scenes were tremendous but sublime. The suggestions ofsorrow and malice had, for a time, taken their flight, and yielded placeto a generous sympathy, which filled my eyes with tears, but had more init of pleasure than of pain. That Clithero was instrumental to the deathof Waldegrave, that he could furnish the clue explanatory of everybloody and mysterious event that had hitherto occurred, there was nolonger the possibility of doubting. "He, indeed, " said I, "is themurderer of excellence; and yet it shall be my province to emulate afather's clemency, and restore this unhappy man to purity and to peace. "

Day after day passed, without hearing any thing of Clithero. I began togrow uneasy and impatient. I had gained so much, and by means sounexpected, that I could more easily endure uncertainty with respect towhat remained to be known. But my patience had its limits. I should, doubtless, have made use of new means to accelerate this discovery, hadnot his timely appearance made them superfluous. 

Sunday being at length arrived, I resolved to go to Inglefield's, seekan interview with his servant, and urge him, by new importunities, toconfide to me the secret. On my way thither, Clithero appeared in sight. His visage was pale and wan, and his form emaciated and shrunk. I wasastonished at the alteration which the lapse of a week had made in hisappearance. At a small distance I mistook him for a stranger. As soon asI perceived who it was, I greeted him with the utmost friendliness. Mycivilities made little impression on him, and he hastened to inform me, that he was coming to my uncle's, for the purpose of meeting and talkingwith me. If I thought proper, we would go into the wood together, andfind some spot where we might discourse at our leisure and be exemptfrom interruption. 

You will easily conceive with what alacrity I accepted his invitation. We returned from the road into the first path, and proceeded in silence, till the wildness of the surrounding scenery informed us that we were inthe heart of Norwalk. We lighted on a recess, to which my companionappeared to be familiar, and which had all the advantages of solitude, and was suitable to rest. Here we stopped. Hitherto my companion haddisplayed a certain degree of composure. Now his countenance betokened aviolent internal struggle. It was a considerable time before he couldcommand his speech. When he had so far effected the conquest of hisfeelings, he began. 

Chapter IV. 

You call upon me for a confession of my offences. What a strange fortuneis mine! That a human being, in the present circumstances, should makethis demand, and that I should be driven, by an irresistible necessity, to comply with it! That here should terminate my calamitous series! Thatmy destiny should call upon me to lie down and die, in a region soremote from the scene of my crime; at a distance so great from all thatwitnessed and endured their consequences!

You believe me to be an assassin. You require me to explain the motivesthat induced me to murder the innocent. While this is your belief, andthis the scope of your expectations, you may be sure of my compliance. Icould resist every demand but this. 

For what purpose have I come hither? Is it to relate my story? Shall Icalmly sit here, and rehearse the incidents of my life? Will my strengthbe adequate to this rehearsal? Let me recollect the motives thatgoverned me, when I formed this design. Perhaps a strenuousness may beimparted by them which, otherwise, I cannot hope to obtain. For the sakeof those, I consent to conjure up the ghost of the past, and to begin atale that, with a fortitude like mine, I am not sure that I shall liveto finish. 

You are unacquainted with the man before you. The inferences which youhave drawn, with regard to my designs and my conduct, are a tissue ofdestructive errors. You, like others, are blind to the most momentousconsequences of your own actions. You talk of imparting consolation. Youboast the beneficence of your intentions. You set yourself to do me abenefit. What are the effects of your misguided zeal and random efforts?They have brought my life to a miserable close. They have shrouded thelast scene of it in blood. They have put the seal to my perdition. 

My misery has been greater than has fallen to the lot of mortals. Yet itis but beginning. My present path, full as it is of asperities, isbetter than that into which I must enter when this is abandoned. Perhaps, if my pilgrimage had been longer, I might, at some future day, have lighted upon hope. In consequence of your interference, I amforever debarred from it. My existence is henceforward to be invariable. The woes that are reserved for me are incapable alike of alleviation orintermission. 

But I came not hither to recriminate. I came not hither to accuseothers, but myself. I know the retribution that is appointed for guiltlike mine. It is just. I may shudder at the foresight of my punishmentand shrink in the endurance of it; but I shall be indebted for part ofmy torment to the vigour of my understanding, which teaches me that mypunishment is just. Why should I procrastinate my doom and strive torender my burden more light? It is but just that it should crush me. Itsprocrastination is impossible. The stroke is already felt. Even now Idrink of the cup of retribution. A change of being cannot aggravate mywoe. Till consciousness itself be extinct, the worm that gnaws me willnever perish. 

Fain would I be relieved from this task. Gladly would I bury in oblivionthe transactions of my life. But no! My fate is uniform. The demon thatcontrolled me at first is still in the fruition of power. I am entangledin his fold, and every effort that I make to escape only involves me indeeper ruin. I need not conceal, for all the consequences of disclosureare already experienced. I cannot endure a groundless imputation, thoughto free me from it I must create and justify imputations still moreatrocious. My story may at least be brief. If the agonies of remembrancemust be awakened afresh, let me do all that in me lies to shorten them. 

I was born in the county of Armagh. My parents were of the better sortof peasants, and were able to provide me with the rudiments ofknowledge. I should doubtless have trodden in their footsteps, and havespent my life in the cultivation of their scanty fields, if an event hadnot happened, Which, for a long time, I regarded as the most fortunateof my life, but which I now regard as the scheme of some infernal agent, and as the primary source of all my calamities. 

My father's farm was a portion of the demesne of one who resided whollyin the metropolis and consigned the management of his estates to hisstewards and retainers. This person married a lady who brought him greataccession of fortune. Her wealth was her only recommendation in the eyesof her husband, (whose understanding was depraved by the prejudices ofluxury and rank, ) but was the least of her attractions in the estimateof reasonable beings. 

They passed some years together. If their union were not a source ofmisery to the lady, she was indebted for her tranquillity to the forceof her mind. She was, indeed, governed, in every action of her life, bythe precepts of duty, while her husband listened to no calls but thoseof pernicious dissipation. He was immersed in all the vices that growout of opulence and a mistaken education. 

Happily for his wife, his career was short. He was enraged at theinfidelity of his mistress, to purchase whose attachment he had lavishedtwo-thirds of his fortune. He called the paramour, by whom he had beensupplanted, to the field. The contest was obstinate, and terminated inthe death of the challenger. 

This event freed the lady from many distressful and humiliatingobligations. She determined to profit by her newly-acquiredindependence, to live thenceforward conformably to her notions of right, to preserve and improve, by schemes of economy, the remains of herfortune, and to employ it in the diffusion of good. Her plans made itnecessary to visit her estates in the distant provinces. 

During her abode in the manor of which my father was a vassal, shevisited his cottage. I was at that time a child. She was pleased with myvivacity and promptitude, and determined to take me under her ownprotection. My parents joyfully acceded to her proposal, and I returnedwith her to the capital. 

She had an only son of my own age. Her design, in relation to me, wasthat I should be educated with her child, and that an affection, in thisway, might be excited in me towards my young master, which might renderme, when we should attain to manhood, one of his most faithful andintelligent dependants. I enjoyed, equally with him, all the essentialbenefits of education. There were certain accomplishments, from which Iwas excluded, from the belief that they were unsuitable to my rank andstation. I was permitted to acquire others, which, had she been actuatedby true discernment, she would, perhaps, have discovered to be far moreincompatible with a servile station. In proportion as my views wererefined and enlarged by history and science, I was likely to contract athirst of independence, and an impatience of subjection and poverty. 

When the period of childhood and youth was past, it was thought properto send her son to improve his knowledge and manners by a residence onthe continent. This young man was endowed with splendid abilities. Hiserrors were the growth of his condition. All the expedients thatmaternal solicitude and wisdom could suggest were employed to render hima useful citizen. Perhaps this wisdom was attested by the large share ofexcellence which he really possessed; and that his character was notunblemished proved only that no exertions could preserve him from thevices that are inherent in wealth and rank, and which flow from thespectacle of universal depravity. 

As to me, it would be folly to deny that I had benefited by myopportunities of improvement. I fulfilled the expectation of mymistress, in one respect. I was deeply imbued with affection for herson, and reverence for herself. Perhaps the force of education wasevinced in those particulars, without reflecting any credit on thedirectors of it. Those might merit the name of defects, which wereregarded by them as accomplishments. My unfavourable qualities, likethose of my master, were imputed to my condition, though, perhaps, thedifference was advantageous to me, since the vices of servitude are lesshateful than those of tyranny. 

It was resolved that I should accompany my master in his travels, inquality of favourite domestic. My principles, whatever might be theirrectitude, were harmonious and flexible. I had devoted my life to theservice of my patron. I had formed conceptions of what was reallyconducive to his interest, and was not to be misled by speciousappearances. If my affection had not stimulated my diligence, I shouldhave found sufficient motives in the behaviour of his mother. Shecondescended to express her reliance on my integrity and judgment. Shewas not ashamed to manifest, at parting, the tenderness of a mother, andto acknowledge that all her tears were not shed on her son's account. Ihad my part in the regrets that called them forth. 

During our absence, I was my master's constant attendant. I correspondedwith his mother, and made the conduct of her son the principal theme ofmy letters. I deemed it my privilege, as well as duty, to sit injudgment on his actions, to form my opinions without regard to selfishconsiderations, and to avow them whenever the avowal tended to benefit. Every letter which I wrote, particularly those in which his behaviourwas freely criticized, I allowed him to peruse. I would, on no account, connive at or participate in the slightest irregularity. I knew the dutyof my station, and assumed no other control than that which resultedfrom the avoiding of deceit, and the open expression of my sentiments. The youth was of a noble spirit, but his firmness was wavering. Heyielded to temptations which a censor less rigorous than I would haveregarded as venial, or, perhaps, laudable. My duty required me to setbefore him the consequences of his actions, and to give impartial andtimely information to his mother. 

He could not brook a monitor. The more he needed reproof the lesssupportable it became. My company became every day less agreeable, tillat length there appeared a necessity of parting. A separation tookplace, but not as enemies. I never lost his respect. In hisrepresentations to his mother, he was just to my character and services. My dismission was not allowed to injure my fortune, and his motherconsidered this event merely as a new proof of the inflexibleconsistency of my principles. 

On this change in my situation, she proposed to me to become a member ofher own family. No proposal could be more acceptable. I was fullyacquainted with the character of this lady, and had nothing to fear frominjustice and caprice. I did not regard her with filial familiarity, butmy attachment and reverence would have done honour to that relation. Iperformed for her the functions of a steward. Her estates in the citywere put under my direction. She placed boundless confidence in mydiscretion and integrity, and consigned to me the payment, and, in somedegree, the selection and government, of her servants. My station was aservile one, yet most of the evils of servitude were unknown to me. Mypersonal ease and independence were less infringed than that of thosewho are accounted the freest members of society. I derived a sort ofauthority and dignity from the receipt and disbursement of money. Thetenants and debtors of the lady were, in some respects, mine. It was, for the most part, on my justice and lenity that they depended for theirtreatment. My lady's household-establishment was large and opulent. Herservants were my inferiors and menials. My leisure was considerable, andmy emoluments large enough to supply me with every valuable instrumentof improvement or pleasure. 

These were reasons why I should be contented with my lot. Thesecircumstances alone would have rendered it more eligible than any other, but it had additional and far more powerful recommendations, arisingfrom the character of Mrs. Lorimer, and from the relation in which sheallowed me to stand to her. 

How shall I enter upon this theme? How shall I expatiate uponexcellencies which it was my fate to view in their genuine colours, toadore with an immeasurable and inextinguishable ardour, and which, nevertheless, it was my hateful task to blast and destroy? Yet I willnot be spared. I shall find, in the rehearsal, new incitements tosorrow. I deserve to be supreme in misery, and will not be denied thefull measure of a bitter retribution. 

No one was better qualified to judge of her excellencies. A casualspectator might admire her beauty, and the dignity of her demeanour. From the contemplation of those, he might gather motives for loving orrevering her. Age was far from having withered her complexion, ordestroyed the evenness of her skin; but no time could rob her of thesweetness and intelligence which animated her features. Her habitualbeneficence was bespoken in every look. Always in search of occasionsfor doing good, always meditating scenes of happiness, of which she wasthe author, or of distress, for which she was preparing relief, the mosttorpid insensibility was, for a time, subdued, and the most depravedsmitten by charms of which, in another person, they would not perhapshave been sensible. 

A casual visitant might enjoy her conversation, might applaud therectitude of her sentiments, the richness of her elocution, and herskill in all the offices of politeness. But it was only for him whodwelt constantly under the same roof, to mark the inviolable consistencyof her actions and opinions, the ceaseless flow of her candour, hercheerfulness, and her benevolence. It was only for one who witnessed herbehaviour at all hours, in sickness and in health, her management ofthat great instrument of evil and good, money, her treatment of her son, her menials, and her kindred, rightly to estimate her merits. 

The intercourse between us was frequent, but of a peculiar kind. Myoffice in her family required me often to see her, to submit schemes toher consideration, and receive her directions. At these times shetreated me in a manner in some degree adapted to the difference of rankand the inferiority of my station, and yet widely dissimilar from thatwhich a different person would have adopted in the same circumstances. The treatment was not that of an equal and a friend, but still moreremote was it from that of a mistress. It was merely characterized byaffability and condescension, but as such it had no limits. 

She made no scruple to ask my counsel in every pecuniary affair, tolisten to my arguments, and decide conformably to what, after sufficientcanvassings and discussions, should appear to be right. When the directoccasions of our interview were dismissed, I did not of course withdraw. To detain or dismiss me was indeed at her option; but, if no engagementinterfered, she would enter into general conversation. There was nonewho could with more safety to herself have made the world her confessor;but the state of society in which she lived imposed certain limitationson her candour. In her intercourse with me there were fewer restraintsthan on any other occasion. My situation had made me more intimatelyacquainted with domestic transactions, with her views respecting herson, and with the terms on which she thought proper to stand with thosewhom old acquaintance or kindred gave some title to her good offices. Inaddition to all those motives to a candid treatment of me, there wereothers which owed their efficacy to her maternal regard for me, and tothe artless and unsuspecting generosity of her character. 

Her hours were distributed with the utmost regularity, and appropriatedto the best purposes. She selected her society without regard to anyqualities but probity and talents. Her associates were numerous, and herevening conversations embellished with all that could charm the sensesor instruct the understanding. This was a chosen field for the displayof her magnificence; but her grandeur was unostentatious, and hergravity unmingled with haughtiness. From these my station excluded me;but I was compensated by the freedom of her communications in theintervals. She found pleasure in detailing to me the incidents thatpassed on those occasions, in rehearsing conversations and depictingcharacters. There was an uncommon portion of dramatic merit in herrecitals, besides valuable and curious information. One uniform effectwas produced in me by this behaviour. Each day I thought it impossiblefor my attachment to receive any new accessions, yet the morrow was sureto produce some new emotion of respect or of gratitude, and to set theunrivalled accomplishments of this lady in a new and more favourablepoint of view. I contemplated no change in my condition. The necessityof change, whatever were the alternative, would have been a subject ofpiercing regret. I deemed my life a cheap sacrifice in her cause. Notime would suffice to discharge the debt of gratitude that was due toher. Yet it was continually accumulating. If an anxious thought everinvaded my bosom, it arose from this source. 

It was no difficult task faithfully to execute the functions assigned tome. No merit could accrue to me from this source. I was exposed to notemptation. I had passed the feverish period of youth. No contagiousexample had contaminated my principles. I had resisted, the allurementsof sensuality and dissipation incident to my age. My dwelling was inpomp and splendour. I had amassed sufficient to secure me, in case ofunforeseen accidents, in the enjoyment of competence. My mentalresources were not despicable, and the external means of intellectualgratification were boundless. I enjoyed an unsullied reputation. Mycharacter was well known in that sphere which my lady occupied, not onlyby means of her favourable report, but in numberless ways in which itwas my fortune to perform personal services to others. 

Chapter V. 

Mrs. Lorimer had a twin-brother. Nature had impressed the same imageupon them, and had modelled them after the same pattern. The resemblancebetween them was exact to a degree almost incredible. In infancy andchildhood they were perpetually liable to be mistaken for each other. Asthey grew up, nothing, to a superficial examination, appeared todistinguish them, but the sexual characteristics. A sagacious observerwould, doubtless, have noted the most essential differences. In allthose modifications of the features which are produced by habits andsentiments, no two persons were less alike. Nature seemed to haveintended them as examples of the futility of those theories whichascribe every thing to conformation and instinct and nothing to externalcircumstances; in what different modes the same materials may befashioned, and to what different purposes the same materials may beapplied. Perhaps the rudiments of their intellectual character, as wellas of their form, w^ere the same; but the powers that in one case wereexerted in the cause of virtue were, in the other, misapplied to sordidand flagitious purposes. 

Arthur Wiatte (that was his name) had ever been the object of hissister's affection. As long as he existed, she never ceased to labour inthe promotion of his happiness. All her kindness was repaid by a sternand inexorable hatred. This man was an exception to all the rules whichgovern us in our judgments of human nature. He exceeded in depravity allthat has been imputed to the arch-foe of mankind. His wickedness waswithout any of those remorseful intermissions from which it has beensupposed that the deepest guilt is not entirely exempt. He seemed torelish no food but pure unadulterated evil. He rejoiced in proportion tothe depth of that distress of which he was the author. 

His sister, by being placed most within the reach of his enmity, experienced its worst effects. She was the subject on which, by beingacquainted with the means of influencing her happiness, he could try hismalignant experiments with most hope of success. Her parents being highin rank and wealth, the marriage of their daughter was, of course, anobject of anxious attention. There is no event on which our felicity andusefulness more materially depends, and with regard to which, therefore, the freedom of choice and the exercise of our own understanding ought tobe less infringed; but this maxim is commonly disregarded in proportionto the elevation of our rank and extent of our property. 

The lady made her own election; but she wras one of those who acted on acomprehensive plan, and would not admit her private inclination todictate her decision. The happiness of others, though founded onmistaken views, she did not consider as unworthy of her regard. Thechoice was such as was not likely to obtain the parental sanction, towhom the moral qualities of their son-in-law, though not absolutelyweightless in the balance, were greatly inferior to the considerationsof wealth and dignity. 

The brother set no value on any thing but the means of luxury and power. He was astonished at that perverseness which entertained a differentconception of happiness from himself. Love and friendship he consideredas groundless and chimerical, and believed that those delusions would, in people of sense, be rectified by experience; but he knew theobstinacy of his sister's attachment to these phantoms, and that tobereave her of the good they promised was the most effectual means ofrendering her miserable. For this end he set himself to thwart herwishes. In the imbecility and false indulgence of his parents he foundthe most powerful auxiliaries. He prevailed upon them to forbid thatunion which wanted nothing but their concurrence, and their consent toendow her with a small portion of their patrimony, to render completelyeligible. The cause was that of her happiness and the happiness of himon whom she had bestowed her heart. It behooved her, therefore, to callforth all her energies in defence of it, to weaken her brother'sinfluence on the minds of her parents, or to win him to be her advocate. When I reflect upon her mental powers, and the advantages which shouldseem to flow from the circumstance of pleading in the character ofdaughter arid sister, I can scarcely believe that her attemptsmiscarried. I should have imagined that all obstacles would yield beforeher, and particularly in a case like this, in which she must havesummoned all her forces, and never have believed that she had struggledsufficiently. 

Certain it is that her lot was fixed. She was not only denied thehusband of her choice, but another was imposed upon her, whoserecommendations were irresistible in every one's apprehension but herown. The discarded lover was treated with every sort of contumely. Deceit and violence were employed by her brother to bring his honour, his liberty, and even his life, into hazard. All these iniquitiesproduced no inconsiderable effect on the mind of the lady. Themachinations to which her love was exposed would have exasperated himinto madness, had not her most strenuous exertions been directed toappease him. 

She prevailed on him at length to abandon his country, though shethereby merely turned her brother's depravity into a new channel. Herparents died without consciousness of the evils they inflicted, but theyexperienced a bitter retribution in the conduct of their son. He was thedarling and stay of an ancient and illustrious house, but his actionsreflected nothing but disgrace upon his ancestry, and threatened tobring the honours of their line to a period in his person. At theirdeath the bulk of their patrimony devolved upon him. This he speedilyconsumed in gaming and riot. From splendid he descended to meaner vices. The efforts of his sister to recall him to virtue were unintermitted andfruitless. Her affection for him he converted into a means of prolonginghis selfish gratifications. She decided for the best. It was no argumentof weakness that she was so frequently deceived. If she had judged trulyof her brother, she would have judged not only without example, but inopposition to the general experience of mankind. But she was not to beforever deceived. Her tenderness was subservient to justice. And whenhis vices had led him from the gaming-table to the highway, when seizedat length by the ministers of law, when convicted and sentenced totransportation, her intercession was solicited, when all the world knewthat pardon would readily be granted to a suppliant of her rank, fortune, and character, when the criminal himself, his kindred, hisfriends, and even indifferent persons, implored her interference, herjustice was inflexible. She knew full well the incurableness of hisdepravity; that banishment was the mildest destiny that would befallhim; that estrangement from ancient haunts and associates was thecondition from which his true friends had least to fear. Findingentreaties unavailing, the wretch delivered himself to the suggestionsof his malice, and he vowed to be bloodily revenged on herinflexibility. The sentence was executed. That character must indeed bemonstrous from which the execution of such threats was to be dreaded. The event sufficiently showed that our fears on this head were wellgrounded. This event, however, was at a great distance. It was reportedthat the felons, of whom he was one, mutinied on board the ship in whichthey had been embarked. In the affray that succeeded, it was said thathe was killed. 

Among the nefarious deeds which he perpetrated was to be numbered theseduction of a young lady, whose heart was broken by the detection ofhis perfidy. The fruit of this unhappy union was a daughter. Her motherdied shortly after her birth. Her father was careless of her destiny. She was consigned to the care of a hireling, who, happily for theinnocent victim, performed the maternal offices for her own sake, anddid not allow the want of a stipulated recompense to render hor cruel orneglectful. 

This orphan was sought out by the benevolence of Mrs. Lorimer and placedunder her own protection. She received from her the treatment of amother. The ties of kindred, corroborated by habit, was not the onlything that united them. That resemblance to herself which had been sodeplorably defective in her brother was completely realized in hisoffspring. Nature seemed to have precluded every difference between thembut that of age. This darling object excited in her bosom more thanmaternal sympathies. Her soul clung to the happiness of her_Clarice_ with more ardour than to that of her own son. The latterwas not only less worthy of affection, but their separation necessarilydiminished their mutual confidence. 

It was natural for her to look forward to the future destiny of_Clarice_. On these occasions she could not help contemplating thepossibility of a union between her son and niece. Considerableadvantages belonged to this scheme, yet it was the subject of hoperather than the scope of a project. The contingencies were numerous anddelicate on which the ultimate desirableness of this union depended. Shewas far from certain that her son would be worthy of this benefit, orthat, if he were worthy, his propensities would not select forthemselves a different object. It was equally dubious whether the younglady would not think proper otherwise to dispose of her affections. These uncertainties could be dissipated only by time. Meanwhile she waschiefly solicitous to render them virtuous and wise. 

As they advanced in years, the hopes that she had formed wereannihilated. The youth was not exempt from egregious errors. In additionto this, it was manifest that the young people were disposed to regardeach other in no other light than that of brother and sister. I was notunapprized of her views. I saw that their union was impossible. I wasnear enough to judge of the character of Clarice. My youth andintellectual constitution made me peculiarly susceptible to femalecharms. I was her playfellow in childhood, and her associate in studiesand amusements at a maturer age. This situation might have beensuspected of a dangerous tendency. This tendency, however, was obviatedby motives of which I was, for a long time, scarcely conscious. 

I was habituated to consider the distinctions of rank as indelible. Theobstructions that existed, to any wish that I might form, were likethose of time and space, and, in their own nature, as insuperable. 

Such was the state of things previous to our setting out upon ourtravels. Clarice was indirectly included in our correspondence. Myletters were open to her inspection, and I was sometimes honoured with afew complimentary lines under her own hand. On returning to my ancientabode, I was once more exposed to those sinister influences whichabsence had at least suspended. Various suitors had, meanwhile, beenrejected. Their character, for the most part, had been silch as toaccount for her refusal, without resorting to the supposition of alurking or unavowed attachment. 

On our meeting she greeted me in a respectful but dignified manner. Observers could discover in it nothing not corresponding to thatdifference of fortune which subsisted between us. If her joy, on thatoccasion, had in it some portion of tenderness, the softness of hertemper, and the peculiar circumstances in which we had been placed, being considered, the most rigid censor could find no occasion for blameor suspicion. 

A year passed away, but not without my attention being solicited bysomething new and inexplicable in my own sensations. At first I was notaware of their true cause; but the gradual progress of my feelings leftme not long in doubt as to their origin. I was alarmed at the discovery, but my courage did not suddenly desert me. My hopes seemed to beextinguished the moment that I distinctly perceived the point to whichthey led. My mind had undergone a change. The ideas with which it wasfraught wrere varied. The sight or recollection of Clarice was sure tooccasion my mind to advert to the recent discovery, and to revolve theconsiderations naturally connected with it. Some latent glows and secrettrepidations were likewise experienced, when, by some accident, ourmeetings were abrupt or our interviews unwitnessed; yet my usualtranquillity was not as yet sensibly diminished. I could bear to thinkof her marriage with another without painful emotions, and was anxiousonly that her choice should be judicious and fortunate. 

My thoughts could not long continue in this state. They gradually becamemore ardent and museful. The image of Clarice occurred with unseasonablefrequency. Its charms were enhanced by some nameless and indefinableadditions. When it met me in the way I was irresistibly disposed to stopand survey it with particular attention. The pathetic cast of herfeatures, the deep glow of her cheek, and some catch of melting musicshe had lately breathed, stole incessantly upon my fancy. On recoveringfrom my thoughtful moods, I sometimes found my cheeks wet with tearsthat had fallen unperceived, and my bosom heaved with involuntary sighs. These images did not content themselves with invading my wakeful hours, but, likewise, encroached upon my sleep. I could no longer resign myselfto slumber with the same ease as before. When I slept, my visions wereof the same impassioned tenor. 

There was no difficulty in judging rightly of my situation. I knew whatit was that duty exacted from me. To remain in my present situation wasa chimerical project. That time and reflection would suffice to restoreme to myself was a notion equally fallacious. Yet I felt aninsupportable reluctance to change it. This reluctance was owing, notwholly or chiefly to my growing passion, but to the attachment whichbound me to the service of my lady. All my contemplations had hithertobeen modelled on the belief of my remaining in my present situationduring my life. My mildest anticipations had never fashioned an eventlike this. Any misfortune was light in comparison with that which toreme from her presence and service. But, should I ultimately resolve toseparate, how should I communicate my purpose? The pain of parting wouldscarcely be less on her side than on mine. Could I consent to be theauthor of disquietude to her? I had consecrated all my faculties to herservice. This was the recompense which it was in my power to make forthe benefits that I had received. Would not this procedure bear theappearance of the basest ingratitude? The shadow of an imputation likethis was more excruciating than the rack. 

What motive could I assign for my conduct? The truth must not be told. This would be equivalent to supplicating for a new benefit. It wouldmore become me to lessen than increase my obligations. Among all myimaginations on this subject, the possibility of a mutual passion neveroccurred to me. I could not be blind to the essential distinctions thatsubsist among men. I could expatiate, like others, on the futility ofribbons and titles, and on the dignity that was annexed to skill andvirtue; but these, for the most part, were the incoherences ofspeculation, and in no degree influenced the stream of my actions andpractical sentiments. The barrier that existed in the present case Ideemed insurmountable. This was not even the subject of doubt. Indisclosing the truth, I should be conceived to be soliciting my lady'smercy and intercession; but this would be the madness of presumption. Let me impress her with any other opinion than that I go in search ofthe happiness that I have lost under her roof. Let me save her generousheart from the pangs which this persuasion would infallibly produce. 

I could form no stable resolutions. I seemed unalterably convinced ofthe necessity of separation, and yet could not execute my design. When Ihad wrought up my mind to the intention of explaining myself on the nextinterview, when the next interview took place my tongue was powerless. Iadmitted any excuse for postponing my design, and gladly admitted anytopic, however foreign to my purpose. 

It must not be imagined that my health sustained no injury from thisconflict of my passions. My patroness perceived this alteration. Sheinquired with the most affectionate solicitude into the cause. It couldnot be explained. I could safely make light of it, and represented it assomething which would probably disappear of itself, as it originatedwithout any adequate cause. She was obliged to acquiesce in my imperfectaccount. 

Day after day passed in this state of fluctuation. I was conscious ofthe dangers of delay, and that procrastination, without rendering thetask less necessary, augmented its difficulties. At length, summoning myresolution, I demanded an audience. She received me with her usualaffability. Common topics were started; but she saw the confusion andtrepidation of my thoughts, and quickly relinquished them. She thennoticed to me what she had observed, and mentioned the anxiety whichthese appearances had given her She reminded me of the maternal regardwhich she had always manifested towards me, and appealed to my own heartwhether any thing could be said in vindication of that reserve withwhich I had lately treated her, and urged me, as I valued her goodopinion, to explain the cause of a dejection _that was toovisible_. 

To all this I could make but one answer:--"Think me not, madam, perverseor ungrateful. I came just now to apprize you of a resolution that I hadformed. I cannot explain the motives that induce me. In this case, tolie to you would be unpardonable, and, since I cannot assign my truemotives, I will not mislead you by false representations. I canle toinform you of my intention to leave your service, and to retire, withthe fruits of your bounty, to my native village, where I shall spend mylife, I hope, in peace. "

Her surprise at this declaration was beyond measure. She could notbelieve her ears. She had not heard me rightly. She compelled me torepeat it. Still I was jesting. I could not possibly mean what my wordsimported. 

I assured her, in terms still more explicit, that my resolution wastaken and was unalterable, and again entreated her to spare me the taskof assigning my motives. 

This was a strange determination. What could be the grounds of this newscheme? What could be the necessity of hiding them from her? Thismystery was not to be endured. She could by no means away with it. Shethought it hard that I should abandon her at this time, when she stoodin particular need of my assistance and advice. She would refuse nothingto make my situation eligible. I had only to point out where she wasdeficient in her treatment of me, and she would endeavour to supply it. She was willing to augment my emoluments in any degree that I desired. She could not think of parting with me; but, at any rate, she must beinformed of my motives. 

"It is a hard task, " answered I, "that I have imposed upon myself. Iforesaw its difficulties, and this foresight has hitherto prevented mefrom undertaking it; but the necessity by which I am impelled will nolonger be withstood. I am determined to go; but to say why isimpossible. I hope I shall not bring upon myself the imputation ofingratitude; but this imputation, more intolerable than any other, mustbe borne, if it cannot be avoided but by this disclosure. 

"Keep your motives to yourself, " said she. "I have too good an opinionof you to suppose that you would practise concealment without goodreason. I merely desire you to remain where you are. Since you will nottell me why you take up this new scheme, I can only say that it isimpossible there should be any advantage in this scheme. I will not hearof it, I tell you. Therefore, submit to my decree with a good grace. "

Notwithstanding this prohibition, I persisted in declaring that mydetermination was fixed, and that the motives that governed me wouldallow of no alternative. 

"So, you will go, will you, whether I will or no? I have no power todetain you? You will regard nothing that I can say?"

"Believe me, madam, no resolution ever was formed after a more vehementstruggle. If my motives were known, you would not only cease to oppose, but would hasten, my departure. Honour me so far with your good opinionas to believe that, in saying this, I say nothing but the truth, andrender my duty less burdensome by cheerfully acquiescing in itsdictates. "

"I would, " replied the lady, "I could find somebody that has more powerover you than I have. Whom shall I call in to aid me in this arduoustask?"

"Nay, dear madam, if I can resist your entreaties, surely no other canhope to succeed. "

"I am not sure of that, " said my friend, archly; "there is one person inthe world whose supplications, I greatly suspect, you would notwithstand. "

"Whom do you mean?" said I, in some trepidation. 

"You will know presently. Unless I can prevail upon you, I shall beobliged to call for assistance. "

"Spare me the pain of repeating that no power on earth can change myresolution. "

"That's a fib, " she rejoined, with increased archness. "You know it is. If a certain person entreat you to stay, you will easily comply. I see Icannot hope to prevail by my own strength. That is a mortifyingconsideration: but we must not part; that is a point settled. If nothingelse will do, I must go and fetch my advocate. Stay here a moment. "

I had scarcely time to breathe, before she returned, leading in Clarice. I did not yet comprehend the meaning of this ceremony. The lady wasoverwhelmed with sweet confusion. Averted eyes and reluctant steps mighthave explained to me the purpose of this meeting, if I had believed thatpurpose to be possible. I felt the necessity of new fortitude, andstruggled to recollect the motives that had hitherto sustained me. 

"There!" said my patroness; "I have been endeavouring to persuade thisyoung man to live with us a little longer. He is determined, it seems, to change his abode. He will not tell why, and I do not care to know, unless I could show his reasons to be groundless. I have merelyremonstrated with him on the folly of his scheme, but he has provedrefractory to all I can say. Perhaps your efforts may meet with bettersuccess. "

Clarice said not a word. My own embarrassment equally disabled me fromspeaking. Regarding us both, for some time, with a benign aspect, Mrs. Lorimer resumed, taking a hand of each and joining them together:--

"I very well know what it was that suggested this scheme. It is strangethat you should suppose me so careless an observer as not to note, ornot to understand, your situation. I am as well acquainted with what ispassing in your heart as you yourself are: but why are you so anxious toconceal it? You know less of the adventurousness of love than I shouldhave suspected. But I will not trifle with your feelings. 

"You, Clithero, know the wishes that I once cherished. I had hopedthatmy son would have found, in this darling child, an object worthy of hischoice, and that my girl would have preferred him to all others. But Ihave long since discovered that this could not be. They are nowisesuited to each other. There is one thing in the next place desirable, and now my wishes are accomplished. I see that you love each other; andnever, in my opinion, was a passion more rational and just. I shouldthink myself the worst of beings if I did not contribute all in my powerto your happiness. There is not the shadow of objection to your union. Iknow your scruples, Clithero, and am sorry to see that you harbour themfor a moment. Nothing is more unworthy of your good sense. 

"I found out this girl long ago. Take my word for it, young man, shedoes not fall short of you in the purity and tenderness of herattachment. What need is there of tedious preliminaries? I will leaveyou together, and hope you will not be long in coming to a mutualunderstanding. Your union cannot be completed too soon for my wishes. Clarice is my only and darling daughter. As to you, Clithero, expecthenceforth that treatment from me, not only to which your own meritentitles you, but which is due to the husband of my daughter. "--Withthese words she retired, and left us together. 

Great God! deliver me from the torments of this remembrance. That abeing by whom I was snatched from penury and brutal ignorance, exaltedto some rank in the intelligent creation, reared to affluence andhonour, and thus, at last, spontaneously endowed with all that remainedto complete the sum of my felicity, that a being like this-But suchthoughts must not yet be: I must shut them out, or I shall never arriveat the end of my tale. My efforts have been thus far successful. I havehitherto been able to deliver a coherent narrative. Let the last wordsthat I shall speak afford some glimmering of my better days. Let meexecute without faltering the only task that remains for me. 

Chapter VI. 

How propitious, how incredible, was this event! I could scarcely confidein the testimony of my senses. Was it true that Clarice was before me, that she was prepared to countenance my presumption, that she hadslighted obstacles which I had deemed insurmountable, that I was fondlybeloved by her, and should shortly be admitted to the possession of soinestimable a good? I will not repeat the terms in which I poured forth, at her feet, the raptures of my gratitude. My impetuosity soon extortedfrom Clarice a confirmation of her mother's declaration. An unrestrainedintercourse was thenceforth established between us. Dejection andlanguor gave place, in my bosom, to the irradiations of joy and hope. Myflowing fortunes seemed to have attained their utmost and immutableheight. 

Alas! They were destined to ebb with unspeakably-greater rapidity, andto leave me, in a moment, stranded and wrecked. 

Our nuptials would have been solemnized without delay, had not amelancholy duty interfered. Clarice had a friend in a distant part ofthe kingdom. Her health had long been the prey of a consumption. She wasnow evidently tending to dissolution. In this extremity she entreatedher friend to afford her the consolation of her presence. The only wishthat remained was to die in her arms. 

This request could not but be willingly complied with. It became mepatiently to endure the delay that would thence arise to the completionof my wishes. Considering the urgency and mournfulness of the occasion, it was impossible for me to murmur, and the affectionate Clarice wouldsuffer nothing to interfere with the duty which she owed to her dyingfriend. I accompanied her on this journey, remained with her a few days, and then parted from her to return to the metropolis. It was notimagined that it would be necessary to prolong her absence beyond amonth. When I bade her farewell, and informed her on what day I proposedto return for her, I felt no decay of my satisfaction. My thoughts werebright and full of exultation. Why was not some intimation afforded meof the snares that lay in my path? In the train laid for my destruction, the agent had so skilfully contrived that my security was not molestedby the faintest omen. 

I hasten to the crisis of my tale. I am almost dubious of my strength. The nearer I approach to it, the stronger is my aversion. My courage, instead of gathering force as I proceed, decays. I am willing to dwellstill longer on preliminary circumstances. There are other incidentswithout which my story would be lame. I retail them because they affordme a kind of respite from horrors at the thought of which every joint inmy frame trembles. They must be endured, but that infirmity may beforgiven which makes me inclined to procrastinate my suffering. 

I mentioned the lover whom my patroness was compelled, by themachinations of her brother, to discard. More than twenty years hadpassed since their separation. His birth was mean and he was withoutfortune. His profession was that of a surgeon. My lady not onlyprevailed upon him to abandon his country, but enabled him to do this bysupplying his necessities from her own purse. His excellentunderstanding was, for a time, obscured by passion; but it was notdifficult for my lady ultimately to obtain his concurrence to all herschemes. He saw and adored the rectitude of her motives, did not disdainto accept her gifts, and projected means for maintaining an epistolaryintercourse during their separation. 

Her interest procured him a post in the service of the East IndiaCompany. She was, from time to time, informed of his motions. A warbroke out between the Company and some of the native powers. He waspresent at a great battle in which the English were defeated. She couldtrace him by his letters and by other circumstances thus far, but herethe thread was discontinued, and no means which she employed couldprocure any tidings of him. Whether he was captive, or dead, continued, for several years, to be merely matter of conjecture. 

On my return to Dublin, I found my patroness engaged in conversationwith a stranger. She introduced us to each other in a manner thatindicated the respect which she entertained for us both. I surveyed andlistened to him with considerable attention. His aspect was noble andingenuous, but his sunburnt and rugged features bespoke a various andboisterous pilgrimage. The furrows of his brow were the products ofvicissitude and hardship, rather than of age. His accents were fiery andenergetic, and the impassioned boldness of his address, as well as thetenor of his discourse, full of allusions to the past, and regrets thatthe course of events had not been different, made me suspect somethingextraordinary in his character. 

As soon as he left us, my lady explained who he was. He was no otherthan the object of her youthful attachment, who had, a few days before, dropped among us as from the skies. He had a long and various story totell. He had accounted for his silence by enumerating the incidents ofhis life. He had escaped from the prisons of Hyder, had wandered onfoot, and under various disguises, through the northern district ofHindostan. He was sometimes a scholar of Benares, and sometimes adisciple of the Mosque. According to the exigencies of the times, he wasa pilgrim to Mecca or to Juggernaut. By a long, circuitous, and perilousroute, he at length arrived at the Turkish capital. Here he resided forseveral years, deriving a precarious subsistence from the profession ofa surgeon. He was obliged to desert this post, in consequence of a duelbetween two Scotsmen. One of them had embraced the Greek religion, andwas betrothed to the daughter of a wealthy trader of that nation. Heperished in the conflict, and the family of the lady not only procuredthe execution of his antagonist, but threatened to involve all those whowere known to be connected with him in the same ruin. 

His life being thus endangered, it became necessary for him to seek anew residence. He fled from Constantinople with such precipitation asreduced him to the lowest poverty. He had traversed the Indian conquestsof Alexander, as a mendicant. In the same character, he now wanderedover the native country of Philip and Philopoemen. He passed safelythrough multiplied perils, and finally, embarking at Salonica, hereached Venice. He descended through the passes of the Apennines intoTuscany. In this journey he suffered a long detention from banditti, bywhom he was waylaid. In consequence of his harmless deportment, and aseasonable display of his chirurgical skill, they granted him his life, though they, for a time, restrained him of his liberty, and compelledhim to endure their society. The time was not misemployed which he spentimmured in caverns and carousing with robbers. His details wereeminently singular and curious, and evinced the acuteness of hispenetration, as well as the steadfastness of his courage. 

After emerging from these wilds, he found his way along the banks of theArno to Leghorn. Thence he procured a passage to America, whence he hadjust returned, with many additions to his experience, but none to hisfortune. 

This was a remarkable event. It did not at first appear how far itsconsequences would extend. The lady was, at present, disengaged andindependent. Though the passion which clouded her early prosperity wasextinct, time had not diminished the worth of her friend, and they werefar from having reached that age when love becomes chimerical andmarriage folly. A confidential intercourse was immediately establishedbetween them. The bounty of Mrs. Lorimer soon divested her friend of allfear of poverty. "At any rate, " said she, "he shall wander no farther, but shall be comfortably situated for the rest of his life. " All hisscruples were vanquished by the reasonableness of her remonstrances andthe vehemence of her solicitations. 

A cordial intimacy grew between me and the newly-arrived. Our interviewswere frequent, and our communications without reserve. He detailed to methe result of his experience, and expatiated without end on the historyof his actions and opinions. He related the adventures of his youth, anddwelt upon all the circumstances of his attachment to my patroness. Onthis subject I had heard only general details. I continually foundcause, in the course of his narrative, to revere the illustriousqualities of my lady, and to weep at the calamities to which theinfernal malice of her brother had subjected her. 

The tale of that man's misdeeds, amplified and dramatized by theindignant eloquence of this historian, oppressed me with astonishment. If a poet had drawn such a portrait, I should have been prone to suspectthe soundness of his judgment. Till now I had imagined that no characterwas uniform and unmixed, and my theory of the passions did not enable meto account for a propensity gratified merely by evil, and delighting inshrieks and agony for their own sake. 

It was natural to suggest to my friend, when expatiating on this theme, an inquiry as to how far subsequent events had obliterated theimpressions that were then made, and as to the plausibility of reviving, at this more auspicious period, his claims on the heart of his friend. When he thought proper to notice these hints, he gave me to understandthat time had made no essential alteration in his sentiments in thisrespect; that he still fostered a hope, to which every day added newvigour; that, whatever was the ultimate event, he trusted in hisfortitude to sustain it, if adverse, and in his wisdom to extract fromit the most valuable consequences, if it should prove prosperous. 

The progress of things was not unfavourable to his hopes. She treatedhis insinuations and professions with levity; but her arguments seemedto be urged with no other view than to afford an opportunity ofconfutation; and, since there was no abatement of familiarity andkindness, there was room to hope that the affair would terminateagreeably to his wishes. 

Chapter VII. 

Clarice, meanwhile, was absent. Her friend seemed, at the end of amonth, to be little less distant from the grave than at first. Myimpatience would not allow me to wait till her death. I visited her, butwas once more obliged to return alone. I arrived late in the city, and, being greatly fatigued, I retired almost immediately to my chamber. 

On hearing of my arrival, Sarsefield hastened to see me. He came to mybedside, and such, in his opinion, was the importance of the tidingswhich he had to communicate, that he did not scruple to rouse me from adeep sleep----

At this period of his narrative, Clithero stopped. His complexion variedfrom one degree of paleness to another. His brain appeared to suffersome severe constriction. He desired to be excused, for a few minutes, from proceeding. In a short time he was relieved from this paroxysm, andresumed his tale with an accent tremulous at first, but acquiringstability and force as he went on:--

On waking, as I have said, I found my friend seated at my bedside. Hiscountenance exhibited various tokens of alarm. As soon as I perceivedwho it was, I started, exclaiming, "What is the matter?"

He sighed. "Pardon, " said he, "this unseasonable intrusion. A lightmatter would not have occasioned it. I have waited, for two days past, in an agony of impatience, for your return. Happily you are, at last, come. I stand in the utmost need of your counsel and aid. "

"Heaven defend!" cried I. "This is a terrible prelude. You may, ofcourse, rely upon my assistance and advice. What is it that you have topropose?"

"Tuesday evening, " he answered, "I spent here. It was late before Ireturned to my lodgings. I was in the act of lifting my hand to thebell, when my eye was caught by a person standing close to the wall, atthe distance of ten paces. His attitude was that of one employed inwatching my motions. His face was turned towards me, and happened, atthat moment, to be fully illuminated by the rays of a globe-lamp thathung over the door. I instantly recognised his features. I waspetrified. I had no power to execute my design, or even to move, butstood, for some seconds, gazing upon him. He was, in no degree, disconcerted by the eagerness of my scrutiny. He seemed perfectlyindifferent to the consequences of being known. At length he slowlyturned his eyes to another quarter, but without changing his posture, orthe sternness of his looks. I cannot describe to you the shock whichthis encounter produced in me. At last I went into the house, and haveever since been excessively uneasy. "

"I do not see any ground for uneasiness. "

"You do not then suspect who this person is?"

"No. "

"It is Arthur Wiatte. "

"Good heaven! It is impossible. What! my lady's brother?"

"The same. "

"It cannot be. Were we not assured of his death? That he perished in amutiny on board the vessel in which he was embarked for transportation?"

"Such was rumour, which is easily mistaken. My eyes cannot be deceivedin this case. I should as easily fail to recognise his sister, when Ifirst met her, as him. This is the man; whether once dead or not, he isat present alive, and in this city. "

"But has any thing since happened to confirm you in this opinion?"

"Yes, there has. As soon as I had recovered from my first surprise, Ibegan to reflect upon the measures proper to be taken. This was theidentical Arthur Wiatte. You know his character. No time was likely tochange the principles of such a man, but his appearance sufficientlybetrayed the incurableness of his habits. The same sullen and atrociouspassions were written in his visage. You recollect the vengeance whichWiatte denounced against his sister. There is every thing to dread fromhis malignity. How to obviate the danger, I know not. I thought, however, of one expedient. It might serve a present purpose, andsomething better might suggest itself on your return. 

"I came hither early the next day. Old Gowan, the porter, is wellacquainted with Wiatte's story. I mentioned to him that I had reason tothink that he had returned. I charged him to have a watchful eye uponevery one that knocked at the gate, and that, if this person shouldcome, by no means to admit him. The old man promised faithfully to abideby my directions. His terrors, indeed, were greater than mine, and heknew the importance of excluding Wiatte from these walls. "

"Did you not inform my lady of this?"

"No. In what way could I tell it to her? What end could it answer? Whyshould I make her miserable? But I have not done. Yesterday morningGowan took me aside, and informed me that Wiatte had made hisappearance, the day before, at the gate. He knew him, he said, in amoment. He demanded to see the lady, but the old man told him she wasengaged, and could not be seen. He assumed peremptory and haughty airs, and asserted that his business was of such importance as not to endure amoment's delay. Gowan persisted in his first refusal. He retired withgreat reluctance, but said he should return to-morrow, when he shouldinsist upon admission to the presence of the lady. I have inquired, andfind that he has not repeated his visit. What is to be done?"

I was equally at a loss with my friend. This incident was sounlooked-for. What might not be dreaded from the monstrous depravity ofWiatte? His menaces of vengeance against his sister still rung in my ears. Some means of eluding them were indispensable. Could law be resorted to?Against an evil like this, no legal provision had been made. Nine yearshad elapsed since his transportation. Seven years was the period of hisexile. In returning, therefore, he had committed no crime. His personcould not be lawfully molested. We were justified merely in repelling anattack. But suppose we should appeal to law: could this be done withoutthe knowledge and concurrence of the lady? She would never permit it. Her heart was incapable of fear from this quarter. She would spurn atthe mention of precautions against the hatred of her brother. Herinquietude would merely be awakened on his own account. 

I was overwhelmed with perplexity. Perhaps if he were sought out, andsome judgment formed of the kind of danger to be dreaded from him, by aknowledge of his situation and views, some expedient might be thencesuggested. 

But how should his haunts be discovered? This was easy. He had intimatedthe design of applying again for admission to his sister. Let a personbe stationed near at hand, who, being furnished with an adequatedescription of his person and dress, shall mark him when he comes, andfollow him when he retires, and shall forthwith impart to us theinformation on that head which he shall be able to collect. 

My friend concurred in this scheme. No better could, for the present, besuggested. Here ended our conference. 

I was thus supplied with a new subject of reflection. It was calculatedto fill my mind with dreary forebodings. The future was no longer ascene of security and pleasure. It would be hard for those to partake ofour fears who did not partake of our experience. The existence of Wiattewas the canker that had blasted the felicity of my patroness. In hisreappearance on the stage there was something portentous. It seemed toinclude in it consequences of the utmost moment, without my being ableto discover what these consequences were. 

That Sarsefield should be so quickly followed by his arch-foe; that theystarted anew into existence, without any previous intimation, in amanner wholly unexpected, and at the same period, --it seemed as if therelurked, under those appearances, a tremendous significance, which humansagacity could not uncover. My heart sunk within me when I reflectedthat this was the father of my Clarice. He by whose cruelty her motherwas torn from the enjoyment of untarnished honour, and consigned toinfamy and an untimely grave. He by whom herself was abandoned in thehelplessness of infancy, and left to be the prey of obdurate avarice, and the victim of wretches who traffic in virgin innocence. Who had doneall that in him lay to devote her youth to guilt and misery. What werethe limits of his power? How may he exert the parental prerogatives?

To sleep, while these images were haunting me, was impossible. I passedthe night in continual motion. I strode, without ceasing, across thefloor of my apartment. My mind was wrought to a higher pitch than I hadever before experienced. The occasion, accurately considered, was farfrom justifying the ominous inquietudes which I then felt. How, then, should I account for them?

Sarsefield probably enjoyed his usual slumber. His repose might not beperfectly serene, but when he ruminated on impending or possiblecalamities his tongue did not cleave to his mouth, his throat was notparched with unquenchable thirst, he was not incessantly stimulated toemploy his superfluous fertility of thought in motion. If I trembled forthe safety of her whom I loved, and whose safety was endangered by beingthe daughter of this miscreant, had he not equal reason to fear for herwhom he also loved, and who, as the sister of this ruffian, wasencompassed by the most alarming perils? Yet he probably was calm whileI was harassed by anxieties. 

Alas! The difference was easily explained. Such was the beginning of aseries ordained to hurry me to swift destruction. Such were the primarytokens of the presence of that power by whose accursed machinations Iwas destined to fall. You are startled at this declaration. It is one towhich you have been little accustomed. Perhaps you regard it merely asan effusion of frenzy. I know what I am saying. I do not build uponconjectures and surmises. I care not, indeed, for your doubts. Yourconclusion may be fashioned at your pleasure. Would to Heaven that mybelief were groundless, and that I had no reason to believe myintellects to have been perverted by diabolical instigations!

I could procure no sleep that night. After Sarsefield's departure I didnot even lie down. It seemed to me that I could not obtain the benefitsof repose otherwise than by placing my lady beyond the possibility ofdanger. 

I met Sarsefield the next day. In pursuance of the scheme which had beenadopted by us on the preceding evening, a person was selected andcommissioned to watch the appearance of Wiatte. The day passed as usualwith respect to the lady. In the evening she was surrounded by a fewfriends. Into this number I was now admitted. Sarsefield and myself madea part of this company. Various topics were discussed with ease andsprightliness. Her societies were composed of both sexes, and seemed tohave monopolized all the ingenuity and wit that existed in themetropolis. 

After a slight repast the company dispersed. This separation took placeearlier than usual, on account of a slight indisposition in Mrs. _Lorimer_. Sarsefield and I went out together. We took thatopportunity of examining our agent, and, receiving no satisfaction fromhim, we dismissed him for that night, enjoining him to hold himself inreadiness for repeating the experiment to-morrow. My friend directed hissteps homeward, and I proceeded to execute a commission with which I hadcharged myself. 

A few days before, a large sum had been deposited in the hands of abanker, for the use of my lady. It was the amount of a debt which hadlately been recovered. It was lodged here for the purpose of being paidon demand of her or her agents. It was my present business to receivethis money. I had deferred the performance of this engagement to thislate hour, on account of certain preliminaries which were necessary tobe adjusted. 

Having received this money, I prepared to return home. The inquietudewhich had been occasioned by Sarsefield's intelligence had notincapacitated me from performing my usual daily occupations. It was atheme to which, at every interval of leisure from business or discourse, I did not fail to return. At those times I employed myself in examiningthe subject on all sides; in supposing particular emergencies, anddelineating the conduct that was proper to be observed on each. My dailythoughts were, by no means, so fear-inspiring as the meditations of thenight had been. 

As soon as I left the banker's door, my meditations fell into thischannel. I again reviewed the recent occurrences, and imagined theconsequences likely to flow from them. My deductions were not, on thisoccasion, peculiarly distressful. The return of darkness had addednothing to my apprehensions. I regarded Wiatte merely as one againstwhose malice it was wise to employ the most vigilant precautions. Inrevolving these precautions nothing occurred that was new. The dangerappeared without unusual aggravations, and the expedients that offeredthemselves to my choice were viewed with a temper not more sanguine ordespondent than before. 

In this state of mind I began and continued my walk. The distance wasconsiderable between my own habitation and that which I had left. My waylay chiefly through populous and well-frequented streets. In one part ofthe way, however, it was at the option of the passenger either to keepalong the large streets, or considerably to shorten the journey byturning into a dark, crooked, and narrow lane. Being familiar with everypart of this metropolis, and deeming it advisable to take the shortestand obscurest road, I turned into the alley. I proceeded withoutinterruption to the next turning. One night-officer, distinguished byhis usual ensigns, was the only person who passed me. I had gone threesteps beyond when I perceived a man by my side. I had scarcely time tonotice this circumstance, when a hoarse voice exclaimed, "Damn ye, villain, ye're a dead man!"

At the same moment a pistol flashed at my ear, and a report followed. This, however, produced no other effect than, for a short space, tooverpower my senses. I staggered back, but did not fall. 

The ball, as I afterwards discovered, had grazed my forehead, butwithout making any dangerous impression. The assassin, perceiving thathis pistol had been ineffectual, muttered, in an enraged tone, "Thisshall do your business!" At the same time, he drew a knife forth fromhis bosom. 

I was able to distinguish this action by the rays of a distant lamp, which glistened on the blade. All this passed in an instant. The attackwas so abrupt that my thoughts could not be suddenly recalled from theconfusion into which they were thrown. My exertions were mechanical. Mywill might be said to be passive, and it was only by retrospect and acontemplation of consequences that I became fully informed of the natureof the scene. 

If my assailant had disappeared as soon as he had discharged the pistol, my state of extreme surprise might have slowly given place to resolutionand activity. As it was, my sense was no sooner struck by the reflectionfrom the blade, than my hand, as if by spontaneous energy, was thrustinto my pocket. I drew forth a pistol. 

He lifted up his weapon to strike, but it dropped from his powerlessfingers. He fell, and his groans informed me that I had managed my armswith more skill than my adversary. The noise of this encounter soonattracted spectators. Lights were brought, and my antagonist discoveredbleeding at my feet. I explained, as briefly as I was able, the scenewhich they witnessed. The prostrate person was raised by two men, andcarried into a public house nigh at hand. 

I had not lost my presence of mind. I at once perceived the propriety ofadministering assistance to the wounded man. I despatched, therefore, one of the bystanders for a surgeon of considerable eminence, who livedat a small distance, and to whom I was well known. The man was carriedinto an inner apartment and laid upon the floor. It was not till nowthat I had a suitable opportunity of ascertaining who it was with whom Ihad been engaged. I now looked upon his face. The paleness of deathcould not conceal his well-known features. It was Wiatte himself who wasbreathing his last groans at my feet!

The surgeon, whom I had summoned, attended; but immediately perceivedthe condition of his patient to be hopeless. In a quarter of an hour heexpired. During this interval, he was insensible to all around him. Iwas known to the surgeon, the landlord, and some of the witnesses. Thecase needed little explanation. The accident reflected no guilt upon me. The landlord was charged with the care of the corpse till the morning, and I was allowed to return home, without further impediment. 

Chapter VIII. 

Till now my mind had been swayed by the urgencies of this occasion. These reflections were excluded, which rushed tumultuously upon me themoment I was at leisure to receive them. Without foresight of a previousmoment, an entire change had been wrought in my condition. 

I had been oppressed with a sense of the danger that flowed from theexistence of this man. By what means the peril could be annihilated, andwe be placed in security from his attempts, no efforts of mind couldsuggest. To devise these means, and employ them with success, demanded, as I conceived, the most powerful sagacity and the firmest courage. Nowthe danger was no more. The intelligence in which plans of mischiefmight be generated was extinguished or flown. Lifeless were the handsready to execute the dictates of that intelligence. The contriver ofenormous evil was, in one moment, bereft of the power and the will toinjure. Our past tranquillity had been owing to the belief of his death. Fear and dismay had resumed their dominion when the mistake wasdiscovered. But now we might regain possession of our wonted confidence. I had beheld with my own eyes the lifeless corpse of our implacableadversary. Thus, in a moment, had terminated his long and flagitiouscareer. His restless indignation, his malignant projects, that had solong occupied the stage and been so fertile of calamity, were now at anend!

In the course of my meditations, the idea of the death of this man hadoccurred, and it bore the appearance of a desirable event. Yet it waslittle qualified to tranquillize my fears. In the long catalogue ofcontingencies, this, indeed, was to be found; but it was as littlelikely to happen as any other. It could not happen without a series ofanterior events paving the way for it. If his death came from us, itmust be the theme of design. It must spring from laborious circumventionand deep-laid stratagems. 

No. He was dead. I had killed him. What had I done? I had meditatednothing. I was impelled by an unconscious necessity. Had the assailantbeen my father, the consequence would have been the same. Myunderstanding had been neutral. Could it be? In a space so short, was itpossible that so tremendous a deed had been executed? Was I not deceivedby some portentous vision? I had witnessed the convulsions and lastagonies of Wiatte. He was no more, and I was his destroyer!

Such was the state of my mind for some time after this dreadful event. Previously to it I was calm, considerate, and self-collected. I markedthe way that I was going. Passing objects were observed. If I advertedto the series of my own reflections, my attention was not seized andfastened by them. I could disengage myself at pleasure, and could pass, without difficulty, from attention to the world within, to thecontemplation of that without. 

Now my liberty, in this respect, was at an end. I was fettered, confounded, smitten with excess of thought, and laid prostrate withwonder! I no longer attended to my steps. When I emerged from my stupor, I found that I had trodden back the way which I had lately come, and hadarrived within sight of the banker's door. I checked myself, and oncemore turned my steps homeward. 

This seemed to be a hint for entering into new reflections. "The deed, "said I, "is irretrievable. I have killed the brother of my patroness, the father of my love. "

This suggestion was new. It instantly involved me in terror andperplexity. How shall I communicate the tidings? What effect will theyproduce? My lady's sagacity is obscured by the benevolence of hertemper. Her brother was sordidly wicked, --a hoary ruffian, to whom thelanguage of pity was as unintelligible as the gabble of monkeys. Hisheart was fortified against compunction, by the atrocious habits offorty years; he lived only to interrupt her peace, to confute thepromises of virtue, and convert to rancour and reproach the fair dame offidelity. 

He was her brother still. As a human being, his depravity was neverbeyond the health-restoring power of repentance. His heart, so long asit beat, was accessible to remorse. The singularity of his birth hadmade her regard this being as more intimately her brother, than wouldhave happened in different circumstances. It was her obstinatepersuasion that their fates were blended. The rumour of his death shehad never credited. It was a topic of congratulation to her friends, butof mourning and distress to her. That he would one day reappear upon thestage, and assume the dignity of virtue, was a source of consolationwith which she would never consent to part. 

Her character was now known. When the doom of exile was pronounced uponhim, she deemed it incumbent on her to vindicate herself from aspersionsfounded on misconceptions of her motives in refusing her interference. The manuscript, though unpublished, was widely circulated. None couldresist her simple and touching eloquence, nor rise from the perusalwithout resigning his heart to the most impetuous impulses ofadmiration, and enlisting himself among the eulogists of her justice andher fortitude. This was the only monument, in a written form, of hergenius. As such it was engraven on my memory. The picture that itdescribed was the perpetual companion of my thoughts. 

Alas! It had, perhaps, been well for me if it had been buried in eternaloblivion. I read in it the condemnation of my deed, the agonies she waspreparing to suffer, and the indignation that would overflow upon theauthor of so signal a calamity. 

I had rescued my life by the sacrifice of his. Whereas I should havedied. Wretched and precipitate coward! What had become of my boastedgratitude? Such was the zeal that I had vowed to her. Such the serviceswhich it was the business of my life to perform. I had snatched herbrother from existence. I had torn from her the hope which she soardently and indefatigably cherished. From a contemptible and dastardlyregard to my own safety I had failed in the moment of trial and whencalled upon by Heaven to evince the sincerity of my professions. 

She had treated my professions lightly. My vows of eternal devotion shehad rejected with lofty disinterestedness. She had arraigned myimpatience of obligation as criminal, and condemned every scheme I hadprojected for freeing myself from the burden which her beneficence hadlaid upon me. The impassioned and vehement anxiety with which, in formerdays, she had deprecated the vengeance of her lover against Wiatte, rungin my ears. My senses were shocked anew by the dreadful sounds, "Touchnot my brother. Wherever you meet with him, of whatever outrage he beguilty, suffer him to pass in safety. Despise me; abandon me; kill me. All this I can bear even from you; but spare, I implore you, my unhappybrother. The stroke that deprives him of life will not only have thesame effect upon me, but will set my portion in everlasting misery. "

To these supplications I had been deaf. It is true I had not rushed uponhim unarmed, intending no injury nor expecting any. Of that degree ofwickedness I was, perhaps, incapable. Alas! I have immersed myselfsufficiently deep in crimes. I have trampled under foot every motivedear to the heart of honour. I have shown myself unworthy the society ofmen. 

Such were the turbulent suggestions of that moment. My pace slackened. Istopped, and was obliged to support myself against a wall. The sicknessthat had seized my heart penetrated every part of my frame. There wasbut one thing wanting to complete my distraction. --"My lady, " said I, "believed her fate to be blended with that of Wiatte. Who shall affirmthat the persuasion is a groundless one? She had lived and prospered, notwithstanding the general belief that her brother was dead. She wouldnot hearken to the rumour. Why? Because nothing less than indubitableevidence would suffice to convince her? Because the counter-intimationflowed from an infallible source? How can the latter supposition beconfuted? Has she not predicted the event?

"The period of terrible fulfilment has arrived. The same blow thatbereaved _him_ of life has likewise ratified her doom. 

"She has been deceived. It is nothing more, perhaps, than a fondimagination. It matters not. Who knows not the cogency of faith? Thatthe pulses of life are at the command of the will? The bearer of thesetidings will be the messenger of death. A fatal sympathy will seize her. She will shrink, and swoon, and perish, at the news!

"Fond and short-sighted wretch! This is the price thou hast given forsecurity. In the rashness of thy thought, thou saidst, 'Nothing iswanting but his death to restore us to confidence and safety. ' Lo! thepurchase is made. Havoc and despair, that were restrained during hislife, were let loose by his last sigh. Now only is destruction madesure. Thy lady, thy Clarice, thy friend, and thyself, are, by this act, involved in irretrievable and common ruin!"

I started from my attitude. I was scarcely conscious of any transition. The interval was fraught with stupor, and amazement. It seemed as if mysenses had been hushed in sleep, while the powers of locomotion wereunconsciously exerted to bear me to my chamber. By whatever means thechange was effected, there I was. 

I have been able to proceed thus far. I can scarcely believe thetestimony of my memory that assures me of this. My task is almostexecuted; but whence shall I obtain strength enough to finish it? What Ihave told is light as gossamer, compared with the insupportable andcrushing horrors of that which is to come. Heaven, in token of itsvengeance, will enable me to proceed. It is fitting that my scene shouldthus close. 

My fancy began to be infected with the errors of my understanding. Themood into which my mind was plunged was incapable of any propitiousintermission. All within me was tempestuous and dark. My ears wereaccessible to no sounds but those of shrieks and lamentations. It wasdeepest midnight, and all the noises of a great metropolis were hushed. Yet I listened as if to catch some strain of the dirge that was begun. Sable robes, sobs, and a dreary solemnity encompassed me on all sides, Iwas haunted to despair by images of death, imaginary clamours, and thetrain of funeral pageantry. I seemed to have passed forward to a distantera of my life. The effects which were come were already realized. Theforesight of misery created it, and set me in the midst of that hellwhich I feared. 

From a paroxysm like this the worst might reasonably be dreaded, yet thenext step to destruction was not suddenly taken. I paused on the brinkof the precipice, as if to survey the depth of that frenzy that invadedme; was able to ponder on the scene, and deliberate, in a state thatpartook of calm, on the circumstances of my situation. My mind washarassed by the repetition of one idea. Conjecture deepened intocertainty. I could place the object in no light which did notcorroborate the persuasion that, in the act committed, I had insured thedestruction of my lady. At length my mind, somewhat relieved from thetempest of my fears, began to trace and analyze the consequences which Idreaded. 

The fate of Wiatte would inevitably draw along with it that of hissister. In what way would this effect be produced? Were they linkedtogether by a sympathy whose influence was independent of sensiblecommunication? Could she arrive at a knowledge of his miserable and byother than verbal means? I had heard of such extraordinarycopartnerships in being and modes of instantaneous intercourse amongbeings locally distant. Was this a new instance of the subtlety of mind?Had she already endured his agonies, and like him already ceased tobreathe?

Every hair bristled at this horrible suggestion. But the force ofsympathy might be chimerical. Buried in sleep, or engaged in carelessmeditation, the instrument by which her destiny might be accomplishedwas the steel of an assassin. A series of events, equally beyond thereach of foresight with those which had just happened, might introduce, with equal abruptness, a similar disaster. What, at that moment, was hercondition? Reposing in safety in her chamber, as her family imagined. But were they not deceived? Was she not a mangled corpse? Whatever wereher situation, it could not be ascertained, except by extraordinarymeans, till the morning. Was it wise to defer the scrutiny till then?Why not instantly investigate the truth?

These ideas passed rapidly through my mind. A considerable portion oftime and amplification of phrase are necessary to exhibit, verbally, ideas contemplated in a space of incalculable brevity. With the samerapidity I conceived the resolution of determining the truth of mysuspicions. All the family, but myself, were at rest. Winding passageswould conduct me, without danger of disturbing them, to the hall, fromwhich double staircases ascended. One of these led to a saloon above, onthe east side of which was a door that communicated with a suite ofrooms occupied by the lady of the mansion. The first was an antechamber, in which a female servant usually lay. The second was the lady's ownbedchamber. This was a sacred recess, with whose situation, relative tothe other apartments of the building, I was well acquainted, but ofwhich I knew nothing from my own examination, having never been admittedinto it. 

Thither I was now resolved to repair. I was not deterred by the sanctityof the place and hour. I was insensible to all consequences but theremoval of my doubts. Not that my hopes were balanced by my fears. Thatthe same tragedy had been performed in her chamber and in the street, nothing hindered me from believing with as much cogency as if my owneyes had witnessed it, but the reluctance with which we admit adetestable truth. 

To terminate a state of intolerable suspense, I resolved to proceedforthwith to her chamber. I took the light and paced, with nointerruption, along the galleries. I used no precaution. If I had met aservant or robber, I am not sure that I should have noticed him. Myattention was too perfectly engrossed to allow me to spare any to acasual object. I cannot affirm that no one observed me. This, however, was probable from the distribution of the dwelling. It consisted of acentral edifice and two wings, one of which was appropriated todomestics and the other, at the extremity of which my apartment wasplaced, comprehended a library, and rooms for formal and social andliterary conferences. These, therefore, were deserted at night, and myway lay along these. Hence it was not likely that my steps would beobserved. 

I proceeded to the hall. The principal parlour was beneath her chamber. In the confusion of my thoughts, I mistook one for the other. Irectified, as soon as I detected, my mistake. I ascended, with a beatingheart, the staircase. The door of the antechamber was unfastened. Ientered, totally regardless of disturbing the girl who slept within. Thebed which she occupied was concealed by curtains. Whether she werethere, I did not stop to examine. I cannot recollect that any tokenswere given of wakefulness or alarm. It was not till I reached the doorof her own apartment that my heart began to falter. 

It was now that the momentousness of the question I was about to deciderushed with its genuine force upon my apprehension. Appalled and aghast, I had scarcely power to move the bolt. If the imagination of her deathwas not to be supported, how should I bear the spectacle of wounds andblood? Yet this was reserved for me. A few paces would set me in themidst of a scene of which I was the abhorred contriver. Was it right toproceed? There were still the remnants of doubt. My forebodings mightpossibly be groundless. All within might be safety and serenity. Arespite might be gained from the execution of an irrevocable sentence. What could I do? Was not any thing easy to endure in comparison with theagonies of suspense? If I could not obviate the evil I must bear it, butthe torments of suspense were susceptible of remedy. 

I drew back the bolt, and entered with the reluctance of fear, ratherthan the cautiousness of guilt. I could not lift my eyes from theground. I advanced to the middle of the room. Not a sound like that ofthe dying saluted my-ear. At length, shaking off the fetters ofhopelessness, I looked up. 

I saw nothing calculated to confirm my fears. Everywhere there reignedquiet and order. My heart leaped with exultation. "Can it be, " said I, "that I have been betrayed with shadows?--But this is not sufficient. "

Within an alcove was the bed that belonged to her. If her safety wereinviolate, it was here that she reposed. What remained to converttormenting doubt into ravishing certainty? I was insensible to theperils of my present situation. If she, indeed, were there, would not myintrusion awaken her? She would start and perceive me, at this hour, standing at her bedside. How should I account for an intrusion sounexampled and audacious? I could not communicate my fears. I could nottell her that the blood with which my hands were stained had flowed fromthe wounds of her brother. 

My mind was inaccessible to such considerations. They did not evenmodify my predominant idea. Obstacles like these, had they existed, would have been trampled under foot. 

Leaving the lamp, that I bore, on the table, I approached the bed. Islowly drew aside the curtain, and beheld her tranquilly slumbering. Ilistened, but so profound was her sleep, that not even her breathingscould be overheard. I dropped the curtain and retired. 

How blissful and mild were the illuminations of my bosom at thisdiscovery! A joy that surpassed all utterance succeeded the fiercenessof desperation. I stood, for some moments, wrapped in delightfulcontemplation. Alas! it was a luminous but transient interval. Themadness to whose black suggestions it bore so strong a contrast begannow to make sensible approaches on my understanding. 

"True, " said I, "she lives. Her slumber is serene and happy. She isblind to her approaching destiny. Some hours will at least be rescuedfrom anguish and death. When she wakes, the phantom that soothed herwill vanish. The tidings cannot be withheld from her. The murderer ofthy brother cannot hope to enjoy thy smiles. Those ravishing accents, with which thou hast used to greet me, will be changed. Scowling andreproaches, the invectives of thy anger and the maledictions of thyjustice, will rest upon my head, "What is the blessing which I made the theme of my boastful arrogance?This interval of being and repose is momentary. She will awake, but onlyto perish at the spectacle of my ingratitude. She will awake only to theconsciousness of instantly-impending death. When she again sleeps shewill wake no more. I, her son, --I, whom the law of my birth doomed topoverty and hardship, but whom her unsolicited beneficence snatched fromthose evils, and endowed with the highest good known to intelligentbeings, the consolations of science and the blandishments of affluence, --to whom the darling of her life, the offspring in whom are faithfullypreserved the lineaments of its angelic mother, she has not denied! Whatis the recompense that I have made? How have I discharged themeasureless debt of gratitude to which she is entitled? Thus!--

"Cannot my guilt be extenuated? Is there not a good that I can do thee?Must I perpetrate unmingled evil? Is the province assigned me that of aninfernal emissary, whose efforts are concentred in a single purpose, andthat purpose a malignant one? I am the author of thy calamities. Whatever misery is reserved for thee, I am the source whence it flows. Can I not set bounds to the stream? Cannot I prevent thee from returningto a consciousness which, till it ceases to exist, will not cease to berent and mangled?

"Yes. It is in my power to screen thee from the coming storm; toaccelerate thy journey to rest. I will do it. "

The impulse was not to be resisted. I moved with the suddenness oflightning. Armed with a pointed implement that lay----it was a dagger. As I set down the lamp, I struck the edge. Yet I saw it not, or noticedit not till I needed its assistance. By what accident it came hither, towhat deed of darkness it had already been subservient, I had no power toinquire. I stepped to the table and seized it. 

The time which this action required was insufficient to save me. My doomwas ratified by powers which no human energies can counterwork. --Need Igo further? Did you entertain any imagination of so frightful acatastrophe? I am overwhelmed by turns with dismay and with wonder. I amprompted by turns to tear my heart from my breast and deny faith to theverdict of my senses. 

Was it I that hurried to the deed? No. It was the demon that possessedme. My limbs were guided to the bloody office by a power foreign andsuperior to mine. I had been defrauded, for a moment, of the empire ofmy muscles. A little moment for that sufficed. If my destruction hadnot been decreed, why was the image of Clarice so long excluded? Yet whydo I say long? The fatal resolution was conceived, and I hastened to theexecution, in a period too brief for more than itself to be viewed bythe intellect. 

What then? Were my hands imbrued in this precious blood? Was it to thisextremity of horror that my evil genius was determined to urge me? Toosurely this was his purpose; too surely I was qualified to be itsminister. 

I lifted the weapon. Its point was aimed at the bosom of the sleeper. The impulse was given. 

At the instant a piercing shriek was uttered behind me, and astretched-out hand, grasping the blade, made it swerve widely from itsaim. It descended, but without inflicting a wound. Its force was spentupon the bed. 

Oh for words to paint that stormy transition! I loosed my hold of thedagger. I started back, and fixed eyes of frantic curiosity on theauthor of my rescue. He that interposed to arrest my deed, that startedinto being and activity at a moment so pregnant with fate, withouttokens of his purpose or his coming being previously imparted, couldnot, methought, be less than divinity. 

The first glance that I darted on this being corroborated my conjecture. It was the figure and lineaments of Mrs. Lorimer. Negligently habited inflowing and brilliant white, with features bursting with terror andwonder, the likeness of that being who was stretched upon the bed nowstood before me. 

All that I am able to conceive of angel was comprised in the moralconstitution of this woman. That her genius had overleaped all bounds, and interposed to save her, was no audacious imagination. In the statein which my mind then was, no other belief than this could occupy thefirst place. 

My tongue was tied. I gazed by turns upon her who stood before me, andher who lay upon the bed, and who, awakened by the shriek that had beenuttered, now opened her eyes. She started from her pillow, and, byassuming a new and more distinct attitude, permitted me to recognise_Clarice herself_!

Three days before, I had left her, beside the bed of a dying friend, ata solitary mansion in the mountains of Donegal. Here it had been herresolution to remain till her friend should breathe her last. Fraughtwith this persuasion, knowing this to be the place and hour of repose ofmy lady, hurried forward by the impetuosity of my own conceptions, deceived by the faint gleam which penetrated through the curtain andimperfectly-irradiated features which bore, at all times, a powerfulresemblance to those of Mrs. Lorimer, I had rushed to the brink of thisterrible precipice!

Why did I linger on the verge? Why, thus perilously situated, did I notthrow myself headlong? The steel was yet in my hand. A single blow wouldhave pierced my heart, and shut out from my remembrance and foresightthe past and the future. 

The moment of insanity had gone by, and I was once more myself. Insteadof regarding the act which I had meditated as the dictate of compassionor of justice, it only added to the sum of my ingratitude, and gavewings to the whirlwind that was sent to bear me to perdition. 

Perhaps I was influenced by a sentiment which I had not leisure todistribute into parts. My understanding was, no doubt, bewildered in themaze of consequences which would spring from my act. How should Iexplain my coming hither in this murderous guise, my arm lifted todestroy the idol of my soul and the darling child of my patroness? Inwhat words should I unfold the tale of Wiatte, and enumerate the motivesthat terminated in the present scene? What penalty had not myinfatuation and cruelty deserved? What could I less than turn thedagger's point against my own bosom?

A second time, the blow was thwarted and diverted. Once more thisbeneficent interposer held my arm from the perpetration of a newiniquity. Once more frustrated the instigations of that demon, of whosemalice a mysterious destiny had consigned me to be the sport and theprey. 

Every new moment added to the sum of my inexpiable guilt. Murder wassucceeded, in an instant, by the more detestable enormity of suicide. She to whom my ingratitude was flagrant in proportion to the benefits ofwhich she was the author, had now added to her former acts that ofrescuing me from the last of mischiefs. 

I threw the weapon on the floor. The zeal which prompted her to seize myarm, this action occasioned to subside, and to yield place to thoseemotions which this spectacle was calculated to excite. She watched mein silence, and with an air of ineffable solicitude. Clarice, governedby the instinct of modesty, wrapped her bosom and face in thebedclothes, and testified her horror by vehement but scarcely-articulateexclamations. 

I moved forward, but my steps were random and tottering. My thoughtswere fettered by reverie, and my gesticulations destitute of meaning. Mytongue faltered without speaking, and I felt as if life and death werestruggling within me for the mastery. 

My will, indeed, was far from being neutral in this contest. To such asI, annihilation is the supreme good. To shake off the ills that fastenon us by shaking off existence, is a lot which the system of nature hasdenied to man. By escaping from life, I should be delivered from thisscene, but should only rush into a world of retribution, and be immersedin new agonies. 

I was yet to live. No instrument of my deliverance was within reach. Iwas powerless. To rush from the presence of these women to hide meforever from their scrutiny and their upbraiding, to snatch from theirminds all traces of the existence of Clithero, was the scope ofunutterable longings. 

Urged to flight by every motive of which my nature was susceptible, Iwas yet rooted to the spot. Had the pause been only to be interrupted byme, it would have lasted forever. 

At length, the lady, clasping her hands and lifting them, exclaimed, ina tone melting into pity and grief, --

"Clithero! what is this? How came you hither, and why?"

I struggled for utterance:--"I came to murder you. Your brother hasperished by my hands. Fresh from the commission of this deed, I havehastened hither to perpetrate the same crime upon you. "

"My brother!" replied the lady, with new vehemence. "Oh, say not so! Ihave just heard of his return, from Sarsefield, and that he lives. "

"He is dead, " repeated I, with fierceness; "I know it. It was I thatkilled him. "

"Dead!" she faintly articulated. "And by thee, Clithero? Oh! cursedchance that hindered thee from killing me also! Dead! Then is the omenfulfilled! Then am I undone! Lost forever!"

Her eyes now wandered from me, and her countenance sunk into a wild andrueful expression. Hope was utterly extinguished in her heart, and lifeforsook her at the same moment. She sunk upon the floor pallid andbreathless. 

How she came into possession of this knowledge I know not. It ispossible that Sarsefield had repented of concealment, and, in theinterval that passed between our separation and my encounter withWiatte, had returned, and informed her of the reappearance of thismiscreant. 

Thus, then, was my fate consummated. I was rescued from destroying herby a dagger, only to behold her perish by the tidings which I brought. Thus was every omen of mischief and misery fulfilled. Thus was theenmity of Wiatte rendered efficacious, and the instrument of hisdestruction changed into the executioner of his revenge. 

Such is the tale of my crimes. It is not for me to hope that the curtainof oblivion will ever shut out the dismal spectacle. It will haunt meforever. The torments that grow out of it can terminate only with thethread of my existence, but that, I know full well, will never end. Death is but a shifting of the scene; and the endless progress ofeternity, which to the good is merely the perfection of felicity, is tothe wicked an accumulation of woe. The self-destroyer is his own enemy:this has ever been my opinion. Hitherto it has influenced my actions. Now, though the belief continues, its influence on my conduct isannihilated. I am no stranger to the depth of that abyss into which Ishall plunge. No matter. Change is precious for its own sake. 

Well, I was still to live. My abode must be somewhere fixed. My conductwas henceforth the result of a perverse and rebellious principle. Ibanished myself forever from my native soil. I vowed never more tobehold the face of my Clarice, to abandon my friends, my books, all mywonted labours and accustomed recreations. 

I was neither ashamed nor afraid. I considered not in what way thejustice of the country would affect me. It merely made no part of mycontemplations. I was not embarrassed by the choice of expedients fortrammelling up the visible consequences and for eluding suspicion. Theidea of abjuring my country and flying forever from the hateful scenepartook, to my apprehension, of the vast, the boundless, and strange; ofplunging from the height of fortune to obscurity and indigence, corresponded with my present state of mind. It was of a piece with thetremendous and wonderful events that had just happened. 

These were the images that haunted me, while I stood speechlessly gazingat the ruin before me. I heard a noise from without, or imagined that Iheard it. My reverie was broken, and my muscular power restored. Idescended into the street, through doors of which I possessed one set ofkeys, and hurried by the shortest way beyond the precincts of the city. I had laid no plan. My conceptions with regard to the future wereshapeless and confused. Successive incidents supplied me with a clue, and suggested, as they rose, the next step to be taken. I threw off thegarb of affluence, and assumed a beggar's attire. That I had money aboutme for the accomplishment of my purposes was wholly accidental. Itravelled along the coast, and, when I arrived at one town, knew not whyI should go farther; but my restlessness was unabated, and change wassome relief. I it length arrived at Belfast. A vessel was preparing forAmerica. I embraced eagerly the opportunity of passing into a new world. I arrived at Philadelphia. As soon as I landed I wandered hither, andwas content to wear out my few remaining days in the service ofInglefield. 

I have no friends. Why should I trust my story to mother? I have nosolicitude about concealment; but who is there who will derive pleasureor benefit from my rehearsal? And why should I expatiate on so hateful ascheme? Yet now have I consented to this. I have confided in you thehistory of my disasters. I am not fearful of the use that you may bedisposed to make of it. I shall quickly set myself beyond the reach ofhuman tribunals. I shall relieve the ministers of law from the troubleof punishing. The recent events which induced you to summon me to thisconference have likewise determined me to make this disclosure. 

I was not aware, for some time, of my perturbed sleep. No wonder thatsleep cannot soothe miseries like mine; that I am alike infested bymemory in wakefulness and slumber. Yet I was anew distressed by thediscovery that my thoughts found their way to my lips, without my beingconscious of it, and that my steps wandered forth unknowingly andwithout the guidance of my will. 

The story you have told is not incredible. The disaster to which youallude did not fail to excite my regret. I can still weep over theuntimely fall of youth and worth. I can no otherwise account for myfrequenting his shade than by the distant resemblance which the death ofthis man bore to that of which I was the perpetrator. This resemblanceoccurred to me at first. If he were able to weaken the impression whichwas produced by my crime, this similitude was adapted to revive andenforce them. 

The wilderness, and the cave to which you followed me, were familiar tomy Sunday rambles. Often have I indulged in audible griefs on the cliffsof that valley. Often have I brooded over my sorrows in the recesses ofthat cavern. This scene is adapted to my temper. Its mountainousasperities supply me with images of desolation and seclusion, and itsheadlong streams lull me into temporary forgetfulness of mankind. 

I comprehend you. You suspect me of concern in the death of Waldegrave. You could not do otherwise. The conduct that you have witnessed was thatof a murderer. I will not upbraid you for your suspicions, though I havebought exemption from them at a high price. 

Chapter IX. 

There ended his narrative. He started from the spot where he stood, and, without affording me any opportunity of replying or commenting, disappeared amidst the thickest of the wood. I had no time to exertmyself for his detention. I could have used no arguments for this end, to which it is probable he would have listened. The story I had heardwas too extraordinary, too completely the reverse of all myexpectations, to allow me to attend to the intimations of self-murderwhich he dropped. 

The secret which I imagined was about to be disclosed was as inscrutableas ever. Not a circumstance, from the moment when Clithero's characterbecame the subject of my meditations, till the conclusion of his talk, but served to confirm my suspicion. Was this error to be imputed tocredulity. Would not any one, from similar appearances, have drawnsimilar conclusions? Or is there a criterion by which truth can alwaysbe distinguished? Was it owing to my imperfect education that theinquietudes of this man were not traced to a deed performed at thedistance of a thousand leagues, to the murder of his patroness andfriend?

I had heard a tale which apparently related to scenes and persons fardistant: but, though my suspicions have appeared to have been misplaced, what should hinder but that the death of my friend was, in like manner, an act of momentary insanity and originated in a like spirit of mistakenbenevolence?

But I did not consider this tale merely in relation to myself. My lifehad been limited and uniform. I had communed with romancers andhistorians, but the impression made upon me by this incident wasunexampled in my experience. My reading had furnished me with noinstance in any degree parallel to this, and I found that to be adistant and second-hand spectator of events was widely different fromwitnessing them myself and partaking in their consequences. My judgmentwas, for a time, sunk into imbecility and confusion. My mind was full ofthe images unavoidably suggested by this tale, but they existed in akind of chaos, and not otherwise than gradually was I able to reducethem to distinct particulars, and subject them to a deliberate andmethodical inspection. 

How was I to consider this act of Clithero? What a deplorableinfatuation! Yet it was the necessary result of a series of ideasmutually linked and connected. His conduct was dictated by a motiveallied to virtue. It was the fruit of an ardent and grateful spirit. 

The death of Wiatte could not be censured. The life of Clithero wasunspeakably more valuable than that of his antagonist. It was theinstinct of self-preservation that swayed him. He knew not his adversaryin time enough to govern himself by that knowledge. Had the assailantbeen an unknown ruffian, his death would have been followed by noremorse. The spectacle of his dying agonies would have dwelt upon thememory of his assassin like any other mournful sight, in the productionof which he bore no part. 

It must at least be said that his will was not concerned in thistransaction. He acted in obedience to an impulse which he could notcontrol nor resist. Shall we impute guilt where there is no design?Shall a man extract food for self-reproach from an action to which it isnot enough to say that he was actuated by no culpable intention, butthat he was swayed by no intention whatever? If consequences arise thatcannot be foreseen, shall we find no refuge in the persuasion of ourrectitude and of human frailty? Shall we deem ourselves criminal becausewe do not enjoy the attributes of Deity? Because our power and ourknowledge are confined by impassable boundaries?

But whence arose the subsequent intention? It was the fruit of adreadful mistake. His intents were noble and compassionate. But this isof no avail to free him from the imputation of guilt. No remembrance ofpast beneficence can compensate for this crime. The scale loaded withthe recriminations of his conscience, is immovable by anycounter-weight. 

But what are the conclusions to be drawn by dispassionate observers? Isit possible to regard this person with disdain or with enmity? The crimeoriginated in those limitations which nature has imposed upon humanfaculties. Proofs of a just intention are all that are requisite toexempt us from blame; he is thus, in consequence of a double mistake. The light in which he views this event is erroneous. He judges wrong, and is therefore miserable. 

How imperfect are the grounds of all our decisions Was it of no use tosuperintend his childhood, to select his instructors and examples, tomark the operations of his principles, to see him emerging into youth, to follow him through various scenes and trying vicissitudes, and markthe uniformity of his integrity? Who would have predicted his futureconduct? Who would not have affirmed the impossibility of an action likethis?

How mysterious was the connection between the fate of Wiatte and hissister! By such circuitous and yet infallible means were the predictionof the lady and the vengeance of the brother accomplished! In how manycases may it be said, as in this, that the prediction was the cause ofits own fulfilment! That the very act which considerate observers, andeven himself, for a time, imagined to have utterly precluded theexecution of Wiatte's menaces, should be that inevitably leading to it!That the execution should be assigned to him who, abounding inabhorrence, and in the act of self-defence, was the slayer of themenacer!

As the obstructer of his designs, Wiatte waylaid and assaulted Clithero. He perished in the attempt. Were his designs frustrated? No. It was thusthat he secured the gratification of his vengeance. His sister was cutoff in the bloom of life and prosperity. By a refinement of goodfortune, the voluntary minister of his malice had entailed upon himselfexile without reprieve and misery without end. 

But what chiefly excited my wonder was the connection of this tale withthe destiny of Sarsefield. This was he whom I have frequently mentionedto you as my preceptor. About four years previous to this era, heappeared in this district without fortune or friend. He desired, oneevening, to be accommodated at my uncle's house. The conversationturning on the objects of his journey and his present situation, heprofessed himself in search of lucrative employment. My uncle proposedto him to become a teacher, there being a sufficient number of youngpeople in this neighbourhood to afford him occupation and subsistence. He found it his interest to embrace this proposal. 

I, of course, became his pupil, and demeaned myself in such a manner asspeedily to grow into a favourite. He communicated to us no part of hisearly history, but informed us sufficiently of his adventures in Asiaand Italy to make it plain that this was the same person alluded to byClithero. During his abode among us his conduct was irreproachable. Whenhe left us, he manifested the most poignant regret, but this originatedchiefiy in his regard to me. He promised to maintain with me anepistolary intercourse. Since his departure, however, I had heardnothing respecting him. It was with unspeakable regret that I now heardof the disappointment of his hopes, and was inquisitive respecting themeasures which he would adopt in his new situation. Perhaps he would'once more return to America, and I should again be admitted to theenjoyment of his society. This event I anticipated with the highestsatisfaction. 

At present, the fate of the unhappy Clithero was the subject of abundantanxiety. On his suddenly leaving me, at the conclusion of his tale, Isupposed that he had gone upon one of his usual rambles, and that itwould terminate only with the day. Next morning a message was receivedfrom Inglefield, inquiring if any one knew what had become of hisservant. I could not listen to this message with tranquillity, Irecollected the hints that he had given of some design upon his life, and admitted the most dreary forebodings. I speeded to Inglefield's. Clithero had not returned, they told me, the preceding evening. He hadnot apprized them of any intention to change his abode. His boxes, andall that composed his slender property, were found in their ordinarystate. He had expressed no dissatisfaction with his present condition. 

Several days passed, and no tidings could be procured of him. Hisabsence was a topic of general speculation, but was a source ofparticular anxiety to no one but myself. My apprehensions were surelybuilt upon sufficient grounds. From the moment that we parted, no onehad seen or heard of him. What mode of suicide he had selected, he haddisabled us from discovering, by the impenetrable secrecy in which hehad involved it. 

In the midst of my reflections upon this subject, the idea of thewilderness occurred. Could he have executed his design in the deepest ofits recesses? These were unvisited by human footsteps, and his bonesmight lie for ages in this solitude without attracting observation. Toseek them where they lay, to gather them together and provide for them agrave, was a duty which appeared incumbent on me, and of which theperformance was connected with a thousand habitual sentiments and mixedpleasures. 

Thou knowest my devotion to the spirit that breathes its inspiration inthe gloom of forests and on the verge of streams. I love to immersemyself in shades and dells, and hold converse with the solemnities andsecrecies of nature in the rude retreats of Norwalk. The disappearanceof Clithero had furnished new incitements to ascend its cliffs andpervade its thickets, as I cherished the hope of meeting in my rambleswith some traces of this man. But might he not still live? His words hadimparted the belief that he intended to destroy himself. Thiscatastrophe, however, was far from certain. Was it not in my power toavert it? Could I not restore a mind thus vigorous, to tranquil andwholesome existence? Could I not subdue his perverse disdain andimmeasurable abhorrence of himself? His upbraiding and his scorn wereunmerited and misplaced. Perhaps they argued frenzy rather thanprejudice; but frenzy, like prejudice, was curable. Reason was no lessan antidote to the illusions of insanity like his, than to the illusionsof error. 

I did not immediately recollect that to subsist in this desert wasimpossible. Nuts were the only fruits it produced, and these wereinadequate to sustain human life. If it were haunted by Clithero, hemust occasionally pass its limits and beg or purloin victuals. Thisdeportment was too humiliating and flagitious to be imputed to him. There was reason to suppose him smitten with the charms of solitude, ofa lonely abode in the midst of mountainous and rugged nature; but thiscould not be uninterruptedly enjoyed. Life could be supported only byoccasionally visiting the haunts of men, in the guise of a thief or amendicant. Hence, since Clithero was not known to have reappeared at anyfarm-house in the neighbourhood, I was compelled to conclude either thathe had retired far from this district, or that he was dead. 

Though I designed that my leisure should chiefly be consumed in thebosom of Norwalk, I almost dismissed the hope of meeting with thefugitive. There were indeed two sources of my hopelessness on thisoccasion. Not only it was probable that Clithero had fled far away, but, should he have concealed himself in some nook or cavern within theseprecincts, his concealment was not to be traced. This arose from thenature of that sterile region. 

It would not be easy to describe the face of this district, in a fewwords. Half of Solesbury, thou knowest, admits neither of plough norspade. The cultivable space lies along the river, and the desert, lyingon the north, has gained, by some means, the appellation of Norwalk. Canst thou imagine a space, somewhat circular, about six miles indiameter, and exhibiting a perpetual and intricate variety of craggyeminences and deep dells?

The hollows are single, and walled around by cliffs, ever varying inshape and height, and have seldom any perceptible communication witheach other. These hollows are of all dimensions, from the narrowness anddepth of a well, to the amplitude of one hundred yards. Winter's snow isfrequently found in these cavities at midsummer. The streams that burstforth from every crevice are thrown, by the irregularities of thesurface, into numberless cascades, often disappear in mists or inchasms, and emerge from subterranean channels, and, finally, eithersubside into lakes, or quietly meander through the lower and more levelgrounds. 

Wherever nature left a flat it is made rugged and scarcely passable byenormous and fallen trunks, accumulated by the storms of ages, andforming, by their slow decay, a moss-covered soil, the haunt of rabbitsand lizards. These spots are obscured by the melancholy umbrage ofpines, whose eternal murmurs are in unison with vacancy and solitude, with the reverberations of the torrents and the whistling of the blasts. Hickory and poplar, which abound in the lowlands, find here no fosteringelements. 

A sort of continued vale, winding and abrupt, leads into the midst ofthis region and through it. This vale serves the purpose of a road. Itis a tedious maze and perpetual declivity, and requires, from thepassenger, a cautious and sure foot. Openings and ascents occasionallypresent themselves on each side, which seem to promise you access to theinterior region, but always terminate, sooner or later, in insuperabledifficulties, at the verge of a precipice or the bottom of a steep. 

Perhaps no one was more acquainted with this wilderness than I, but myknowledge was extremely imperfect. I had traversed parts of it, at anearly age, in pursuit of berries and nuts, or led by a roamingdisposition. Afterwards the sphere of my rambles was enlarged and theirpurpose changed. When Sarsefield came among us, I became his favouritescholar and the companion of all his pedestrian excursions. He was fondof penetrating into these recesses, partly from the love of picturesquescenes, partly to investigate its botanical and mineral productions, andpartly to carry on more effectually that species of instruction which hehad adopted with regard to me, and which chiefly consisted in moralizingnarratives or synthetical reasonings. These excursions had familiarizedme with its outlines and most accessible parts; but there was muchwhich, perhaps, could never be reached without wings, and much the onlypaths to which I might forever overlook. 

Every new excursion, indeed, added somewhat to my knowledge. New trackswere pursued, new prospects detected, and new summits were gained. Myrambles were productive of incessant novelty, though they alwaysterminated in the prospect of limits that could not be overleaped. Butnone of these had led me wider from my customary paths than that whichhad taken place when in pursuit of Clithero. I had a faint remembranceof the valley into which I had descended after him; but till then I hadviewed it at a distance, and supposed it impossible to reach the bottombut by leaping from a precipice some hundred feet in height. Theopposite steep seemed no less inaccessible, and the cavern at the bottomwas impervious to any views which my former positions had enabled me totake of it. 

My intention to re-examine this cave and ascertain whither it led had, for a time, been suspended by different considerations. It was nowrevived with more energy than ever. I reflected that this had formerlybeen haunted by Clithero, and might possibly have been the scene of thedesperate act which he had meditated. It might at least conceal sometoken of his past existence. It might lead into spaces hithertounvisited, and to summits from which wider landscapes might be seen. 

One morning I set out to explore this scene. The road which Clithero hadtaken was laboriously circuitous. On my return from the first pursuit ofhim, I ascended the cliff in my former footsteps, but soon lighted onthe beaten track which I have already described. This enabled me to shuna thousand obstacles which had lately risen before me, and opened aneasy passage to the cavern. 

I once more traversed this way. The brow of the hill was gained. Theledges of which it consisted afforded sufficient footing, when theattempt was made, though viewed at a distance they seemed to be toonarrow for that purpose. As I descended the rugged stair, I could notbut wonder at the temerity and precipitation with which this descent hadformerly been made. It seemed as if the noonday light and the tardiestcircumspection would scarcely enable me to accomplish it; yet then ithad been done with headlong speed, and with no guidance but the moon'suncertain rays. 

I reached the mouth of the cave. Till now I had forgotten that a lamp ora torch might be necessary to direct my subterranean footsteps. I wasunwilling to defer the attempt. Light might possibly be requisite, ifthe cave had no other outlet. Somewhat might present itself within tothe eyes, which might forever elude the hands, but I was more inclinedto consider it merely as an avenue terminating in an opening on thesummit of the steep, or on the opposite side of the ridge. Caution mightsupply the place of light, or, having explored the cave as far aspossible at present, I might hereafter return, better furnished for thescrutiny. 

Chapter X. 

With these determinations, I proceeded. The entrance was low, andcompelled me to resort to hands as well as feet. At a few yards from themouth the light disappeared, and I found myself immersed in the dunnestobscurity. Had I not been persuaded that another had gone before me, Ishould have relinquished the attempt. I proceeded with the utmostcaution, always ascertaining, by outstretched arms, the height andbreadth of the cavity before me. In a short time the dimensions expandedon all sides, and permitted me to resume my feet. 

I walked upon a smooth and gentle declivity. Presently the wall on oneside, and the ceiling, receded beyond my reach. I began to fear that Ishould be involved in a maze, and should be disabled from returning. Toobviate this danger it was requisite to adhere to the nearest wall, andconform to the direction which it should take, without straying throughthe palpable obscurity. Whether the ceiling was lofty or low, whetherthe opposite wall of the passage was distant or near, this I deemed noproper opportunity to investigate. 

In a short time, my progress was stopped by an abrupt descent. I setdown the advancing foot with caution, being aware that I might at thenext step encounter a bottomless pit. To the brink of such a one Iseemed now to have arrived. I stooped, and stretched my hand forward anddownward, but all was vacuity. 

Here it was needful to pause. I had reached the brink of a cavity whosedepth it Avas impossible to ascertain. It might be a few inches beyondmy reach, or hundreds of feet. By leaping down I might incur no injury, or might plunge into a lake or dash myself to pieces on the points ofrocks. 

I now saw with new force the propriety of being furnished with a light. The first suggestion was to return upon my footsteps, and resume myundertaking on the morrow. Yet, having advanced thus far, I feltreluctance to recede without accomplishing my purposes. I reflectedlikewise that Clithero had boldly entered this recess, and had certainlycome forth at a different avenue from that at which he entered. 

At length it occurred to me that, though I could not go forward, yet Imight proceed along the edge of this cavity. This edge would be as safea guidance, and would serve as well for a clue by which I might return, as the wall which it was now necessary to forsake. 

Intense dark is always the parent of fears. Impending injuries cannot inthis state be descried, nor shunned, nor repelled. I began to feel somefaltering of my courage, and seated myself, for a few minutes, on astony mass which arose before me. My situation was new. The caverns Ihad hitherto met with in this desert were chiefly formed of low-browedrocks. They were chambers, more or less spacious, into which twilightwas at least admitted; but here it seemed as if I were surrounded bybarriers that would forever cut off my return to air and to light. 

Presently I resumed my courage and proceeded. My road appeared now toascend. On one side I seemed still upon the verge of a precipice, and onthe other all was empty and waste. I had gone no inconsiderabledistance, and persuaded myself that my career would speedily terminate. In a short time, the space on the left hand was again occupied, and Icautiously proceeded between the edge of the gulf and a rugged wall. Asthe space between them widened I adhered to the wall. 

I was not insensible that my path became more intricate and moredifficult to retread in proportion as I advanced. I endeavoured topreserve a vivid conception of the way which I had already passed, andto keep the images of the left and right-hand wall, and the gulf, in duesuccession in my memory. 

The path, which had hitherto been considerably smooth, now became ruggedand steep. Chilling damps, the secret trepidation which attended me, thelength and difficulties of my way, enhanced by the ceaseless caution andthe numerous expedients which the utter darkness obliged me to employ, began to overpower my strength. I was frequently compelled to stop andrecruit myself by rest. These respites from toil were of use, but theycould not enable me to prosecute an endless journey, and to return wasscarcely a less arduous task than to proceed. 

I looked anxiously forward, in the hope of being comforted by some dimray, which might assure me that my labours were approaching an end. Atlast this propitious token appeared, and I issued forth into a kind ofchamber, one side of which was open to the air and allowed me to catch aportion of the checkered sky. This spectacle never before excited suchexquisite sensations in my bosom. The air, likewise, breathed into thecavern, was unspeakably delicious. 

I now found myself on the projecture of a rock. Above and below, thehill-side was nearly perpendicular. Opposite, and at the distance offifteen or twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At the bottom was a glen, cold, narrow, and obscure. This projecture, which served as a kind ofvestibule to the cave, was connected with a ledge, by which, though notwithout peril and toil, I was conducted to the summit. 

This summit was higher than any of those which were interposed betweenitself and the river. A large part of this chaos of rocks and precipiceswas subjected, at one view, to the eye. The fertile lawns and valeswhich lay beyond this, the winding course of the river, and the slopeswhich rose on its farther side, were parts of this extensive scene. These objects were at any time fitted to inspire rapture. Now my delightwas enhanced by the contrast which this lightsome and serene elementbore to the glooms from which I had lately emerged. My station, also, was higher, and the limits of my view, consequently, more ample than anywhich I had hitherto enjoyed. 

I advanced to the outer verge of the hill, which I found to overlook asteep no less inaccessible, and a glen equally profound. I changedfrequently my station in order to diversify the scenery. At length itbecame necessary to inquire by what means I should return. I traversedthe edge of the hill, but on every side it was equally steep and alwaystoo lofty to permit me to leap from it. As I kept along the verge, Iperceived that it tended in a circular direction, and brought me back, at last, to the spot from which I had set out. From this inspection, itseemed as if return was impossible by any other way than that throughthe cavern. 

I now turned my attention to the interior space. If you imagine acylindrical mass, with a cavity dug in the centre, whose edge conformsto the exterior edge; and if you place in this cavity another cylinder, higher than that which surrounds it, but so small as to leave betweenits sides and those of the cavity a hollow space, you will gain asdistinct an image of this hill as words can convey. The summit of theinner rock was rugged and covered with trees of unequal growth. To reachthis summit would not render my return easier; but its greater elevationwould extend my view, and perhaps furnish a spot from which the wholehorizon was conspicuous. 

As I had traversed the outer, I now explored the inner, edge of thishill. At length I reached a spot where the chasm, separating the tworocks, was narrower than at any other part. At first view, it seemed asif it were possible to leap over it, but a nearer examination showed methat the passage was impracticable. So far as my eye could estimate it, the breadth was thirty or forty feet. I could scarcely venture to lookbeneath. The height was dizzy, and the walls, which approached eachother at top, receded at the bottom, so as to form the resemblance of animmense hall, lighted from a rift which some convulsion of nature hadmade in the roof. Where I stood there ascended a perpetual mist, occasioned by a torrent that dashed along the rugged pavement below. 

From these objects I willingly turned my eye upon those before and aboveme, on the opposite ascent. A stream, rushing from above, fell into acavity, which its own force seemed gradually to have made. The noise andthe motion equally attracted my attention. There was a desolate andsolitary grandeur in the scene, enhanced by the circumstances in whichit was beheld, and by the perils through which I had recently passed, that had never before been witnessed by me. 

A sort of sanctity and awe environed it, owing to the consciousness ofabsolute and utter loneliness. It was probable that human feet had neverbefore gained this recess, that human eyes had never been fixed uponthese gushing waters. The aboriginal inhabitants had no motives to leadthem into caves like this and ponder on the verge of such a precipice. Their successors were still less likely to have wandered hither. Sincethe birth of this continent, I was probably the first who had deviatedthus remotely from the customary paths of men. 

While musing upon these ideas, my eye was fixed upon the foamingcurrent. At length I looked upon the rocks which confined andembarrassed its course. I admired their fantastic shapes and endlessirregularities. Passing from one to the other of these, my attentionlighted, at length, as if by some magical transition, on--a humancountenance!

My surprise was so abrupt, and my sensations so tumultuous, that Iforgot for a moment the perilous nature of my situation. I loosened myhold of a pine-branch, which had been hitherto one of my supports, andalmost started from my seat. Had my station been in a slight degreenearer the brink than it was, I should have fallen headlong into theabyss. 

To meet a human creature, even on that side of the chasm which Ioccupied, would have been wholly adverse to my expectation. My stationwas accessible by no other road than that through which I had passed, and no motives were imaginable by which others could be prompted toexplore this road. But he whom I now beheld was seated where it seemedimpossible for human efforts to have placed him. 

But this affected me but little in comparison with other incidents. Notonly the countenance was human, but, in spite of shaggy and tangledlocks, and an air of melancholy wildness, I speedily recognised thefeatures of the fugitive Clithero!

One glance was not sufficient to make me acquainted with this scene. Ihad come hither partly in pursuit of this man, but some casual appendageof his person, something which should indicate his past rather than hispresent existence, was all that I hoped to find. That he should be foundalive in this desert, that he should have gained this summit, access towhich was apparently impossible, were scarcely within the boundaries ofbelief. 

His scanty and coarse garb had been nearly rent away by brambles andthorns; his arms, bosom, and cheeks were overgrown and half concealed byhair. There was somewhat in his attitude and looks denoting more thananarchy of thoughts and passions. His rueful, ghastly, and immovableeyes testified not only that his mind was ravaged by despair, but thathe was pinched with famine. 

These proofs of his misery thrilled to my inmost heart. Horror andshuddering invaded me as I stood gazing upon him, and, for a time, I waswithout the powrer of deliberating on the measures which it was my dutyto adopt for his relief. The first suggestion was, by calling, to informhim of my presence. I knew not what counsel or comfort to offer. By whatwords to bespeak his attention, or by what topics to mollify his direfulpassions, I knew not. Though so near, the gulf by which we wereseparated was impassable. All that I could do was to speak. 

My surprise and my horror were still strong enough to give a shrill andpiercing tone to my voice. The chasm and the rocks loudened andreverberated my accents while I exclaimed, --"_Man! Clithero!_"

My summons was effectual. He shook off his trance in a moment. He hadbeen stretched upon his back, with his eyes fixed upon a craggyprojecture above, as if he were in momentary expectation of its fall andcrushing him to atoms. Now he started on his feet. He was conscious ofthe voice, but not of the quarter whence it came. He was lookinganxiously around when I again spoke:--"Look hither. It is I who called. "

He looked. Astonishment was now mingled with every other dreadfulmeaning in his visage. He clasped his hands together and bent forward, as if to satisfy himself that his summoner was real. At the next momenthe drew back, placed his hands upon his breast, and fixed his eyes onthe ground. 

This pause was not likely to be broken but by me. I was preparing againto speak. To be more distinctly heard, I advanced closer to the brink. During this action, my eye was necessarily withdrawn from him. Havinggained a somewhat nearer station, I looked again, but--he was gone!

The seat which he so lately occupied was empty. I was not forewarned ofhis disappearance or directed to the course of his flight by anyrustling among leaves. These, indeed, would have been overpowered by thenoise of the cataract. The place where he sat was the bottom of acavity, one side of which terminated in the verge of the abyss, but theother sides were perpendicular or overhanging. Surely he had not leapedinto this gulf; and yet that he had so speedily scaled the steep wasimpossible. 

I looked into the gulf, but the depth and the gloom allowed me to seenothing with distinctness. His cries or groans could not be overheardamidst the uproar of the waters. His fall must have instantly destroyedhim, and that he had fallen was the only conclusion I could draw. 

My sensations on this incident cannot be easily described. The image ofthis man's despair, and of the sudden catastrophe to which myinauspicious interference had led, filled me with compunction andterror. Some of my fears were relieved by the new conjecture, that, behind the rock on which he had lain, there might be some aperture orpit into which he had descended, or in which he might be concealed. 

I derived consolation from this conjecture. Not only the evil which Idreaded might not have happened, but some alleviation of his misery waspossible. Could I arrest his footsteps and win his attention, I might beable to insinuate the lessons of fortitude; but if words were impotent, and arguments were nugatory, yet to sit by him in silence, to moistenhis hand with tears, to sigh in unison, to offer him the spectacle ofsympathy, the solace of believing that his demerits were not estimatedby so rigid a standard by others as by himself, that one at least amonghis fellow-men regarded him with love and pity, could not fail to be ofbenign influence. 

These thoughts inspired me with new zeal. To effect my purpose it wasrequisite to reach the opposite steep. I was now convinced that this wasnot an impracticable undertaking, since Clithero had already performedit. I once more made the circuit of the hill. Every side was steep andof enormous height, and the gulf was nowhere so narrow as at this spot. I therefore returned hither, and once more pondered on the means ofpassing this tremendous chasm in safety. 

Casting my eyes upward, I noted the tree at the root of which I wasstanding. I compared the breadth of the gulf with the length of thetrunk of this tree, and it appeared very suitable for a bridge. Happilyit grew obliquely, and, if felled by an axe, would probably fall ofitself, in such a manner as to be suspended across the chasm. The stockwas thick enough to afford me footing, and would enable me to reach theopposite declivity without danger or delay. 

A more careful examination of the spot, the site of the tree, itsdimensions, and the direction of its growth, convinced me fully of thepracticability of this expedient, and I determined to carry it intoimmediate execution. For this end I must hasten home, procure an axe, and return with all expedition hither. I took my former way, once moreentered the subterranean avenue, and slowly re-emerged into day. BeforeI reached home, the evening was at hand, and my tired limbs and jadedspirits obliged me to defer my undertaking till the morrow. 

Though my limbs were at rest, my thoughts were active through the night. I carefully reviewed the situation of this hill, and was unable toconjecture by what means Clithero could place himself upon it. Unless heoccasionally returned to the habitable grounds, it was impossible forhim to escape perishing by famine. He might intend to destroy himself bythis means, and my first efforts were to be employed to overcome thisfatal resolution. To persuade him to leave his desolate haunts might bea laborious and tedious task; meanwhile, all my benevolent intentionswould be frustrated by his want of sustenance. It was proper, therefore, to carry bread with me, and to place it before him. The sight of food, the urgencies of hunger, and my vehement entreaties, might prevail onhim to eat, though no expostulations might suffice to make him seek foodat a distance. 

Chapter XI. 

Next morning I stored a small bag with meat and bread, and, throwing anaxe on my shoulder, set out, without informing any one of my intentions, for the hill. My passage was rendered more difficult by theseencumbrances, but my perseverance surmounted every impediment, and Igained, in a few hours, the foot of the tree whose trunk was to serve mefor a bridge. In this journey I saw no traces of the fugitive. 

A new survey of the tree confirmed my former conclusions, and I began mywork with diligence. My strokes were repeated by a thousand echoes, andI paused at first, somewhat startled by reverberations which made itappear as if not one but a score of axes were employed at the same timeon both sides of the gulf. 

Quickly the tree fell, and exactly in the manner which I expected ariddesired. The wide-spread limbs occupied and choked up the channel of thetorrent, and compelled it to seek a new outlet and multiplied itsmurmurs. I dared not trust myself to cross it in an upright posture, butclung, with hands and feet, to its rugged bark. Having reached theopposite cliff, I proceeded to examine the spot where Clithero haddisappeared. My fondest hopes were realized, for a considerable cavityappeared, which, on a former day, had been concealed from my distantview by the rock. 

It was obvious to conclude that this was his present habitation, or thatan avenue, conducting hither and terminating in the unexplored sides ofthis pit, was that by which he had come hither, and by which he hadretired. I could not hesitate long to slide into the pit. I found anentrance through which I fearlessly penetrated. I was prepared toencounter obstacles and perils similar to those which I have alreadydescribed, but was rescued from them by ascending, in a few minutes, into a kind of passage, open above, but walled by a continued rock onboth sides. The sides of this passage conformed with the utmostexactness to each other. Nature, at some former period, had occasionedthe solid mass to dispart at this place, and had thus afforded access tothe summit of the hill. Loose stones and ragged points formed theflooring of this passage, which rapidly and circuitously ascended. 

I was now within a few yards of the surface of the rock. The passageopened into a kind of chamber or pit, the sides of which were notdifficult to climb. I rejoiced at the prospect of this termination of myjourney. Here I paused, and, throwing my weary limbs on the ground, began to examine the objects around me, and to meditate on the stepsthat were next to be taken. 

My first glance lighted on the very being of whom I was in search. Stretched upon a bed of moss, at the distance of a few feet from mystation, I beheld Clithero. He had not been roused by my approach, though my footsteps were perpetually stumbling and sliding. Thisreflection gave birth to the fear that he was dead. A nearer inspectiondispelled my apprehensions, and showed me that he was merely buried inprofound slumber. Those vigils must indeed have been long which were atlast succeeded by a sleep so oblivious. 

This meeting was, in the highest degree, propitious. It not only assuredme of his existence, but proved that his miseries were capable of beingsuspended. His slumber enabled me to pause, to ruminate on the manner bywhich his understanding might be most successfully addressed; to collectand arrange the topics fitted to rectify his gloomy and disastrousperceptions. 

Thou knowest that I am qualified for such tasks neither by my educationnor my genius. The headlong and ferocious energies of this man could notbe repelled or diverted into better paths by efforts so undisciplined asmine. A despair so stormy and impetuous would drown my feeble accents. How should I attempt to reason with him? How should I outrootprepossessions so inveterate, --the fruits of his earliest education, fostered and matured by the observation and experience of his wholelife? How should I convince him that, since the death of Wiatte was notintended, the deed was without crime? that, if it had been deliberatelyconcerted, it was still a virtue, since his own life could by no othermeans be preserved? that when he pointed a dagger at the bosom of hismistress he was actuated, not by avarice, or ambition, or revenge, ormalice? He desired to confer on her the highest and the only benefit ofwhich he believed her capable. He sought to rescue her from tormentingregrets and lingering agonies. 

These positions were sufficiently just to my own view, but I was notcalled upon to reduce them to practice. I had not to struggle with theconsciousness of having been rescued, by some miraculous contingency, from imbruing my hands in the blood of her whom I adored; of havingdrawn upon myself suspicions of ingratitude and murder too deep to beever effaced; of having bereft myself of love, and honour, and friends, and spotless reputation; of having doomed myself to infamy anddetestation, to hopeless exile, penury, and servile toil. These were theevils which his malignant destiny had made the unalterable portion ofClithero, and how should my imperfect eloquence annihilate these evils?Every man, not himself the victim of irretrievable disasters, perceivesthe folly of ruminating on the past, and of fostering a grief whichcannot reverse or recall the decrees of an immutable necessity; butevery man who suffers is unavoidably shackled by the errors which hecensures in his neighbour, and his efforts to relieve himself are asfruitless as those with which he attempted the relief of others. 

No topic, therefore, could be properly employed by me on the presentoccasion. All that I could do was to offer him food, and, by patheticsupplications, to prevail on him to eat. Famine, however obstinate, would scarcely refrain when bread was placed within sight and reach. When made to swerve from his resolution in one instance, it would beless difficult to conquer it a second time. The magic of sympathy, theperseverance of benevolence, though silent, might work a gradual andsecret revolution, and better thoughts might insensibly displace thosedesperate suggestions which now governed him. 

Having revolved these ideas, I placed the food which I had brought athis right hand, and, seating myself at his feet, attentively surveyedhis countenance. The emotions which were visible during wakefulness hadvanished during this cessation of remembrance and remorse, or werefaintly discernible. They served to dignify and solemnize his features, and to embellish those immutable lines which betokened the spirit of hisbetter days. Lineaments were now observed which could never coexist withfolly or associate with obdurate guilt. 

I had no inclination to awaken him. This respite was too sweet to beneedlessly abridged. I determined to await the operation of nature, andto prolong, by silence and by keeping interruption at a distance, thissalutary period of forgetfulness. This interval permitted new ideas tosucceed in my mind. 

Clithero believed his solitude to be unapproachable. What new expedientsto escape inquiry and intrusion might not my presence suggest! Might henot vanish, as he had done on the former day, and afford me no time toassail his constancy and tempt his hunger? If, however, I withdrewduring his sleep, he would awake without disturbance, and beunconscious, for a time, that his secrecy had been violated. He wouldquickly perceive the victuals, and would need no foreign inducements toeat. A provision so unexpected and extraordinary might suggest newthoughts, and be construed into a kind of heavenly condemnation of hispurpose. He would not readily suspect the motives or person of hisvisitant, would take no precaution against the repetition of my visit, and, at the same time, our interview would not be attended with so muchsurprise. The more I revolved these reflections, the greater force theyacquired. At length, I determined to withdraw, and, leaving the foodwhere it could scarcely fail of attracting his notice, I returned by theway that I had come. I had scarcely reached home, when a messenger fromInglefield arrived, requesting me to spend the succeeding night at hishouse, as some engagement had occurred to draw him to the city. 

I readily complied with this request. It was not necessary, however, tobe early in my visit. I deferred going till the evening was faradvanced. My way led under the branches of the elm which recent eventshad rendered so memorable. Hence my reflections reverted to thecircumstances which had lately occurred in connection with this tree. 

I paused, for some time, under its shade. I marked the spot whereClithero had been discovered digging. It showed marks of beingunsettled; but the sod which had formerly covered it, and which hadlately been removed, was now carefully replaced. This had not been doneby him on that occasion in which I was a witness of his behaviour. Theearth was then hastily removed, and as hastily thrown again into thehole from which it had been taken. 

Some curiosity was naturally excited by this appearance. Either someother person, or Clithero, on a subsequent occasion, had been here. Iwas now likewise led to reflect on the possible motives that promptedthe maniac to turn up this earth. There is always some significance inthe actions of a sleeper. Somewhat was, perhaps, buried in this spot, connected with the history of Mrs. Lorimer or of Clarice. Was it notpossible to ascertain the truth in this respect?

There was but one method. By carefully uncovering this hole, and diggingas deep as Clithero had already dug, it would quickly appear whether anything was hidden. To do this publicly by daylight was evidentlyindiscreet. Besides, a moment's delay was superfluous. The night had nowfallen, and before it was past this new undertaking might be finished. An interview was, if possible, to be gained with Clithero on the morrow, and for this interview the discoveries made on this spot might eminentlyqualify me. Influenced by these considerations, I resolved to dig. I wasfirst, however, to converse an hour with the housekeeper, and then towithdraw to my chamber. When the family were all retired, and there wasno fear of observation or interruption, I proposed to rise and hasten, with a proper implement, hither. 

One chamber in Inglefield's house was usually reserved for visitants. Inthis chamber thy unfortunate brother died, and here it was that I was tosleep. The image of its last inhabitant could not fail of being calledup, and of banishing repose; but the scheme which I had meditated was anadditional incitement to watchfulness. Hither I repaired at the dueseason, having previously furnished myself with candles, since I knewnot what might occur to make a light necessary. 

I did not go to bed, but either sat musing by a table or walked acrossthe room. The bed before me was that on which my friend breathed hislast. To rest my head upon the same pillow, to lie on that pallet whichsustained his cold and motionless limbs, were provocations toremembrance and grief that I desired to shun. I endeavoured to fill mymind with more recent incidents, with the disasters of Clithero, mysubterranean adventures, and the probable issue of the schemes which Inow contemplated. 

I recalled the conversation which had just ended with the housekeeper. Clithero had been our theme, but she had dealt chiefly in repetitions ofwhat had formerly been related by her or by Inglefield. I inquired whatthis man had left behind, and found that it consisted of a square box, put together by himself with uncommon strength, but of ruggedworkmanship. She proceeded to mention that she had advised her brother, Mr. Inglefield, to break open this box and ascertain its contents; butthis he did not think himself justified in doing. Clithero was guilty ofno known crime, was responsible to no one for his actions, and mightsome time return to claim his property. This box contained nothing withwhich others had a right to meddle. Somewhat might be found in it, throwing light upon his past or present situation; but curiosity was notto be gratified by these means. What Clithero thought proper to conceal, it was criminal for us to extort from him. 

The housekeeper was by no means convinced by these arguments, and atlength obtained her brother's permission to try whether any of her ownkeys would unlock this chest. The keys were produced, but no lock norkeyhole were discoverable. The lid was fast, but by what means it wasfastened the most accurate inspection could not detect. Hence she wascompelled to lay aside her project. This chest had always stood in thechamber which I now occupied. 

These incidents were now remembered, and I felt disposed to profit bythis opportunity of examining this box. It stood in a corner, and waseasily distinguished by its form. I lifted it and found its weight by nomeans extraordinary. Its structure was remarkable. It consisted of sixsides, square and of similar dimensions. These were joined, not bymortise and tennon, not by nails, not by hinges, but the junction wasaccurate. The means by which they were made to cohere were invisible. 

Appearances on every side were uniform, nor were there any marks bywhich the lid was distinguishable from its other surfaces. 

During his residence with Inglefield, many specimens of mechanicalingenuity were given by his servant. This was the workmanship of his ownhands. I looked at it for some time, till the desire insensibly arose ofopening it and examining its contents. 

I had no more right to do this than the Inglefields; perhaps, indeed, this curiosity was more absurd, and the gratification more culpable, inme than in them. I was acquainted with the history of Clithero's pastlife, and with his present condition. Respecting these, I had no newintelligence to gain, and no doubts to solve. What excuse could I maketo the proprietor, should he ever reappear to claim his own, or toInglefield for breaking open a receptacle which all the maxims ofsociety combine to render sacred?

But could not my end be gained without violence? The means of openingmight present themselves on a patient scrutiny. The lid might be raisedand shut down again without any tokens of my act; its contents might beexamined, and all things restored to their former condition, in a fewminutes. 

I intended not a theft. I intended to benefit myself without inflictinginjury on others. Nay, might not the discoveries I should make throwlight upon the conduct of this extraordinary man which his own narrativehad withheld? Was there reason to confide implicitly on the tale which Ihad heard?

In spite of the testimony of my own feelings, the miseries of Clitheroappeared in some degree fantastic and groundless. A thousand conceivablemotives might induce him to pervert or conceal the truth. If he werethoroughly known, his character might assume a new appearance; and whatis now so difficult to reconcile to common maxims might prove perfectlyconsistent with them. I desire to restore him to peace; but a thoroughknowledge of his actions is necessary, both to show that he is worthy ofcompassion, and to suggest the best means of extirpating his errors. Itwas possible that this box contained the means of this knowledge. 

There were likewise other motives, which, as they possessed someinfluence, however small, deserve to be mentioned. Thou knowest that Ialso am a mechanist. I had constructed a writing-desk and cabinet, inwhich I had endeavoured to combine the properties of secrecy, security, and strength, in the highest possible degree. I looked upon this, therefore, with the eye of an artist, and was solicitous to know theprinciples on which it was formed. I determined to examine, and, ifpossible, to open it. 

Chapter XII. 

I surveyed it with the utmost attention. All its parts appeared equallysolid and smooth. It could not be doubted that one of its sides servedthe purpose of a lid, and was possible to be raised. Mere strength couldnot be applied to raise it, because there was no projecture which mightbe firmly held by the hand, and by which force could be exerted. Somespring, therefore, secretly existed, which might forever elude thesenses, but on which the hand, by being moved over it in all directions, might accidentally light. 

This process was effectual. A touch, casually applied at an angle, droveback a bolt, and a spring, at the same time, was set in action, by whichthe lid was raised above half an inch. No event could be supposed morefortuitous than this. A hundred hands might have sought in vain for thisspring. The spot in which a certain degree of pressure was sufficient toproduce this effect was, of all, the least likely to attract notice orawaken suspicion. 

I opened the trunk with eagerness. The space within was divided intonumerous compartments, none of which contained any thing of moment. Tools of different and curious constructions, and remnants of minutemachinery, were all that offered themselves to my notice. 

My expectations being thus frustrated, I proceeded to restore things totheir former state. I attempted to close the lid; but the spring whichhad raised it refused to bend. No measure that I could adopt enabled meto place the lid in the same situation in which I had found it. In myefforts to press down the lid, which were augmented in proportion to theresistance that I met with, the spring was broken. This obstacle beingremoved, the lid resumed its proper place; but no means, within thereach of my ingenuity to discover, enabled me to push forward the bolt, and thus to restore the fastening. 

I now perceived that Clithero had provided not only against the openingof his cabinet, but likewise against the possibility of concealing thatit had been opened. This discovery threw me into some confusion. I hadbeen tempted thus far by the belief that my action was withoutwitnesses, and might be forever concealed. This opinion was nowconfuted. If Clithero should ever reclaim his property, he would notfail to detect the violence of which I had been guilty. Inglefield woulddisapprove in another what he had not permitted to himself, and theunauthorized and clandestine manner in which I had behaved wouldaggravate, in his eyes, the heinousness of my offence. 

But now there was no remedy. All that remained was to hinder suspicionfrom lighting on the innocent, and to confess, to my friend, the offencewhich I had committed. Meanwhile my first project was resumed, and, thefamily being now wrapped in profound sleep, I left my chamber, andproceeded to the elm. The moon was extremely brilliant, but I hoped thatthis unfrequented road and unseasonable hour would hinder me from beingobserved. My chamber was above the kitchen, with which it communicatedby a small staircase, and the building to which it belonged wasconnected with the dwelling by a gallery. I extinguished the light, andleft it in the kitchen, intending to relight it, by the embers thatstill glowed on the hearth, on my return. 

I began to remove the sod and cast out the earth, with little confidencein the success of my project. The issue of my examination of the boxhumbled and disheartened me. For some time I found nothing that tendedto invigorate my hopes. I determined, however, to descend, as long asthe unsettled condition of the earth showed me that some one hadpreceded me. Small masses of stone were occasionally met with, whichserved only to perplex me with groundless expectations. At length myspade struck upon something which emitted a very different sound. Iquickly drew it forth, and found it to be wood. Its regular form, andthe crevices which were faintly discernible, persuaded me that it washuman workmanship, and that there was a cavity within. The place inwhich it was found easily suggested some connection between this and thedestiny of Clithero. Covering up the hole with speed, I hastened with myprize to the house. The door by which the kitchen was entered was not tobe seen from the road. It opened on a field, the farther limit of whichwas a ledge of rocks, which formed, on this side, the boundary ofInglefield's estate and the westernmost barrier of Norwalk. 

As I turned the angle of the house, and came in view of this door, methought I saw a figure issue from it. I was startled at this incident, and, stopping, crouched close to the wall, that I might not bediscovered. As soon as the figure passed beyond the verge of the shade, it was easily distinguished to be that of Clithero! He crossed the fieldwith a rapid pace, and quickly passed beyond the reach of my eye. 

This appearance was mysterious. For what end he should visit thishabitation could not be guessed. Was the contingency to be lamented inconsequence of which an interview had been avoided? Would it havecompelled me to explain the broken condition of his trunk? I knew notwhether to rejoice at having avoided this interview, or to deplore it. 

These thoughts did not divert me from examining the nature of the prizewhich I had gained. I relighted my candle and hied once more to thechamber. The first object which, on entering it, attracted my attention, was the cabinet broken into twenty fragments, on the hearth. I had leftit on a low table, at a distant corner of the room. 

No conclusion could be formed but that Clithero had been here, haddiscovered the violence which had been committed on his property, and, in the first transport of his indignation, had shattered it to pieces. Ishuddered on reflecting how near I had been to being detected by him inthe very act, and by how small an interval I had escaped that resentmentwhich, in that case, would have probably been wreaked upon me. 

My attention was withdrawn, at length, from this object, and fixed uponthe contents of the box which I had dug up. This was equallyinaccessible with the other. I had not the same motives for caution andforbearance. I was somewhat desperate, as the consequences of myindiscretion could not be aggravated, and my curiosity was moreimpetuous with regard to the smaller than to the larger cabinet. Iplaced it on the ground and crushed it to pieces with my heel. 

Something was within. I brought it to the light, and, after loosingnumerous folds, at length drew forth a volume. No object in the circleof nature was more adapted than this to rouse up all my faculties. Myfeelings were anew excited on observing that it was a manuscript. Ibolted the door, and, drawing near the light, opened and began to read. 

A few pages were sufficient to explain the nature of the work. Clitherohad mentioned that his lady had composed a vindication of her conducttowards her brother when her intercession in his favour was solicitedand refused. This performance had never been published, but had beenread by many, and was preserved by her friends as a precious monument ofher genius and her virtue. This manuscript was now before me. 

That Clithero should preserve this manuscript, amidst the wreck of hishopes and fortunes, was apparently conformable to his temper. That, having formed the resolution to die, he should seek to hide this volumefrom the profane curiosity of survivors, was a natural proceeding. Tobury it rather than to burn, or disperse it into fragments, would besuggested by the wish to conceal, without committing what his heatedfancy would regard as sacrilege. To bury it beneath the elm was dictatedby no fortuitous or inexplicable caprice. This event could scarcely failof exercising some influence on the perturbations of his sleep, andthus, in addition to other causes, might his hovering near this trunk, and throwing up this earth, in the intervals of slumber, be accountedfor. Clithero, indeed, had not mentioned this proceeding in the courseof his narrative; but that would have contravened the end for which hehad provided a grave for this book. 

I read this copious tale with unspeakable eagerness. It essentiallyagreed with that which had been told by Clithero. By drawing forthevents into all their circumstances, more distinct impressions wereproduced on the mind, and proofs of fortitude and equanimity were heregiven to which I had hitherto known no parallel. No wonder that a soullike Clithero's, pervaded by these proofs of inimitable excellence, andthrillingly alive to the passion of virtuous fame, and the value of thatexistence which he had destroyed, should be overborne by horror at theview of the past. 

The instability of life and happiness was forcibly illustrated, as wellas the perniciousness of error. Exempt as this lady was from almostevery defect, she was indebted for her ruin to absurd opinions of thesacredness of consanguinity, to her anxiety for the preservation of aruffian because that ruffian was her brother. The spirit of Clithero wasenlightened and erect, but he weakly suffered the dictates of eternaljustice to be swallowed up by gratitude. The dread of unjust upbraidinghurried him to murder and to suicide, and the imputation of imaginaryguilt impelled him to the perpetration of genuine and enormous crimes. 

The perusal of this volume ended not but with the night. Contrary to myhopes, the next day was stormy and wet. This did not deter me fromvisiting the mountain. Slippery paths and muddy torrents were noobstacles to the purposes which I had adopted. I wrapped myself, and abag of provisions, in a cloak of painted canvas, and speeded to thedwelling of Clithero. 

I passed through the cave and reached the bridge which my own ingenuityhad formed. At that moment, torrents of rain poured from above, andstronger blasts thundered amidst these desolate recesses and profoundchasms. Instead of lamenting the prevalence of this tempest, I now beganto regard it with pleasure. It conferred new forms of sublimity andgrandeur on this scene. 

As I crept with hands and feet along my imperfect bridge, a sudden gusthad nearly whirled me into the frightful abyss below. To preservemyself, I was obliged to loose my hold of my burden, and it fell intothe gulf. This incident disconcerted and distressed me. As soon as I hadeffected my dangerous passage, I screened myself behind a cliff and gavemyself up to reflection. 

The purpose of this arduous journey was defeated by the loss of theprovisions I had brought. I despaired of winning the attention of thefugitive to supplications, or arguments tending to smother remorse orrevive his fortitude. The scope of my efforts was to consist invanquishing his aversion to food; but these efforts would now beuseless, since I had no power to supply his cravings. 

This deficiency, however, was easily supplied. I had only to return homeand supply myself anew. No time was to be lost in doing this; but I waswilling to remain under this shelter till the fury of the tempest hadsubsided. Besides, I was not certain that Clithero had again retreatedhither. It was requisite to explore the summit of this hill, andascertain whether it had any inhabitant. I might likewise discover whathad been the success of my former experiment, and whether the food, which had been left here on the former day, was consumed or neglected. 

While occupied with these reflections, my eyes were fixed upon theopposite steeps. The tops of the trees, waving to and fro in the wildestcommotion, and their trunks, occasionally bending to the blast, which, in these lofty regions, blew with a violence unknown in the tractsbelow, exhibited an awful spectacle. At length, my attention wasattracted by the trunk which lay across the gulf, and which I hadconverted into a bridge. I perceived that it had already somewhatswerved from its original position, that every blast broke or loosenedsome of the fibres by which its roots were connected with the oppositebank, and that, if the storm did not speedily abate, there was imminentdanger of its being torn from the rock and precipitated into the chasm. Thus my retreat would be cut off, and the evils from which I wasendeavouring to rescue another would be experienced by myself. 

I did not just then reflect that Clithero had found access to this hillby other means, and that the avenue by which he came would be equallycommodious to me. I believed my destiny to hang upon the expedition withwhich I should recross this gulf. The moments that were spent in thesedeliberations were critical, and I shuddered to observe that the trunkwas held in its place by one or two fibres which were already stretchedalmost to breaking. 

To pass along the trunk, rendered slippery by the wet and unsteadfast bythe wind, was imminently dangerous. To maintain my hold, in passing, indefiance of the whirlwind, required the most vigorous exertions. Forthis end it was necessary to discommode myself of my cloak, and of thevolume which I carried in the pocket of my cloak. I believed there wasno reason to dread their being destroyed or purloined, if left, for afew hours or a day, in this recess. If laid beside a stone, undershelter of this cliff, they would, no doubt, remain unmolested till thedisappearance of the storm should permit me to revisit this spot in theafternoon or on the morrow. 

Just as I had disposed of these encumbrances and had risen from my seat, my attention was again called to the opposite steep, by the mostunwelcome object that, at this time, could possibly occur. Something wasperceived moving among the bushes and rocks, which, for a time, I hopedwas no more than a raccoon or opossum, but which presently appeared tobe a panther. His gray coat, extended claws, fiery eyes, and a cry whichhe at that moment uttered, and which, by its resemblance to the humanvoice, is peculiarly terrific, denoted him to be the most ferocious anduntamable of that detested race. 

[Footnote: The gray cougar. This animal has all the essentialcharacteristics of a tiger. Though somewhat inferior in size andstrength, these are such as to make him equally formidable to man. ]

The industry of our hunters has nearly banished animals of prey fromthese precincts. The fastnesses of Norwalk, however, could not butafford refuge to some of them. Of late I had met them so rarely, that myfears were seldom alive, and I trod, without caution, the ruggedest andmost solitary haunts. Still, however, I had seldom been unfurnished inmy rambles with the means of defence. 

My temper never delighted in carnage and blood. I found no pleasure inplunging into bogs, wading through rivulets, and penetrating thickets, for the sake of dispatching woodcocks and squirrels. To watch theirgambols and flittings, and invite them to my hand, was my darlingamusement when loitering among the woods and the rocks. It was muchotherwise, however, with regard to rattlesnakes and panthers. These Ithought it no breach of duty to exterminate wherever they could befound. These judicious and sanguinary spoilers were equally the enemiesof man and of the harmless race that sported in the trees, and many oftheir skins are still preserved by me as trophies of my juvenileprowess. 

As hunting was never my trade or my sport, I never loaded myself withfowling-piece or rifle. Assiduous exercise had made me master of aweapon of much easier carriage, and, within a moderate distance, moredestructive and unerring. This was the tomahawk. With this I have oftensevered an oak-branch, and cut the sinews of a catamount, at thedistance of sixty feet. 

The unfrequency with which I had lately encountered this foe, and theencumbrance of provision, made me neglect, on this occasion, to bringwith me my usual arms. The beast that was now before me, when stimulatedby hunger, was accustomed to assail whatever could provide him with abanquet of blood. He would set upon the man and the deer with equal andirresistible ferocity. His sagacity was equal to his strength, and heseemed able to discover when his antagonist was armed and prepared fordefence. 

My past experience enabled me to estimate the full extent of my danger. He sat on the brow of the steep, eyeing the bridge, and apparentlydeliberating whether he should cross it. It was probable that he hadscented my footsteps thus far, and, should he pass over, his vigilancecould scarcely fail of detecting my asylum. The pit into which Clitherohad sunk from my view was at some distance. To reach it was the firstimpulse of my fear, but this could not be done without exciting theobservation and pursuit of this enemy. I deeply regretted the untowardchance that had led me, when I first came over, to a different shelter. 

Should he retain his present station, my danger was scarcely lessened. To pass over in the face of a famished tiger was only to rush upon myfate. The falling of the trunk, which had lately been so anxiouslydeprecated, was now, with no less solicitude, desired. Every new gust, Ihoped, would tear asunder its remaining bands, and, by cutting off allcommunication between the opposite steeps, place me in security. 

My hopes, however, were destined to be frustrated. The fibres of theprostrate tree were obstinately tenacious of their hold, and presentlythe animal scrambled down the rock and proceeded to cross it. 

Of all kinds of death, that which now menaced me was the most abhorred. To die by disease, or by the hand of a fellow-creature, was propitiousand lenient in comparison with being rent to pieces by the fangs of thissavage. To perish in this obscure retreat, by means so impervious to theanxious curiosity of my friends, to lose my portion of existence by sountoward and ignoble a destiny, was insupportable. I bitterly deploredmy rashness in coming hither unprovided for an encounter like this. 

The evil of my present circumstances consisted chiefly in suspense. Mydeath was unavoidable, but my imagination had leisure to torment itselfby anticipations. One foot of the savage was slowly and cautiously movedafter the other. He struck his claws so deeply into the bark that theywere with difficulty withdrawn. At length he leaped upon the ground. Wewere now separated by an interval of scarcely eight feet. To leave thespot where I crouched was impossible. Behind and beside me, the cliffrose perpendicularly, and before me was this grim and terrific visage. Ishrunk still closer to the ground and closed my eyes. 

From this pause of horror I was aroused by the noise occasioned by asecond spring of the animal. He leaped into the pit, in which I had sodeeply regretted that I had not taken refuge, and disappeared. My rescuewas so sudden, and so much beyond my belief or my hope, that I doubted, for a moment, whether my senses did not deceive me. This opportunity ofescape was not to be neglected. I left my place, and scrambled over thetrunk with a precipitation which had liked to have proved fatal. Thetree groaned and shook under me, the wind blew with unexampled violence, and I had scarcely reached the opposite steep when the roots weresevered from the rock and the whole fell thundering to the bottom of thechasm. 

My trepidations were not speedily quieted. I looked back with wonder onmy hairbreadth escape, and on that singular concurrence of events whichhad placed me, in so short a period, in absolute security. Had the trunkfallen a moment earlier, I should have been imprisoned on the hill orthrown headlong. Had its fall been delayed another moment, I should havebeen pursued; for the beast now issued from his den, and testified hissurprise and disappointment by tokens the sight of which made my bloodrun cold. 

He saw me, and hastened to the verge of the chasm. He squatted on hishind-legs and assumed the attitude of one preparing to leap. Myconsternation was excited afresh by these appearances. It seemed atfirst as if the rift was too wide for any power of muscles to carry himin safety over; but I knew the unparalleled agility of this animal, andthat his experience had made him a better judge of the practicability ofthis exploit than I was. Still there was hope that he would relinquishthis design as desperate. This hope was quickly at an end. He sprung, and his fore-legs touched the verge of the rock on which I stood. Inspite of vehement exertions, however, the surface was too smooth and toohard to allow him to make good his hold. He fell, and a piercing cry, uttered below, showed that nothing had obstructed his descent to thebottom. 

Thus was I again rescued from death. Nothing but the pressure of faminecould have prompted this savage to so audacious and hazardous an effort;but, by yielding to this impulse, he had made my future visits to thisspot exempt from peril. Clithero was, likewise, relieved from a dangerthat was imminent and unforeseen. Prowling over these grounds, thepanther could scarcely have failed to meet with this solitary fugitive. 

Had the animal lived, my first duty would have been to have sought himout and assailed him with my tomahawk; but no undertaking would havebeen more hazardous. Lurking in the grass, or in the branches of a tree, his eye might have descried my approach, he might leap upon meunperceived, and my weapon would be useless. 

With a heart beating with unwonted rapidity, I once more descended thecliff, entered the cavern, and arrived at Huntly farm, drenched withrain, and exhausted by fatigue. 

By night the storm was dispelled; but my exhausted strength would notallow me to return to the mountain. At the customary hour I retired tomy chamber. I incessantly ruminated on the adventures of the last day, and inquired into the conduct which I was next to pursue. 

The bridge being destroyed, my customary access was cut off. There wasno possibility of restoring this bridge. My strength would not sufficeto drag a fallen tree from a distance, and there was none whose positionwould abridge or supersede that labour. Some other expedient must, therefore, be discovered to pass this chasm. 

I reviewed the circumstances of my subterranean journey. The cavern wasimperfectly explored. Its branches might be numerous. That which I hadhitherto pursued terminated in an opening at a considerable distancefrom the bottom. Other branches might exist, some of which might lead tothe foot of the precipice, and thence a communication might be foundwith the summit of the interior hill. 

The danger of wandering into dark and untried paths, and thecommodiousness of that road which had at first been taken, weresufficient reasons for having hitherto suspended my examination of thedifferent branches of this labyrinth. Now my customary road was nolonger practicable, and another was to be carefully explored. For thisend, on my next journey to the mountain, I determined to take with me alamp, and unravel this darksome maze: this project I resolved to executethe next day. 

I now recollected what, if it had more seasonably occurred, would havetaught me caution. Some months before this a farmer, living in theskirts of Norwalk, discovered two marauders in his field, whom heimagined to be a male and female panther. They had destroyed some sheep, and had been hunted by the farmer with long and fruitless diligence. Sheep had likewise been destroyed in different quarters; but the ownershad fixed the imputation of the crime upon dogs, many of whom had atonedfor their supposed offences by their death. He who had mentioned hisdiscovery of panthers received little credit from his neighbours;because a long time had elapsed since these animals were supposed tohave been exiled from this district, and because no other person hadseen them. The truth of this seemed now to be confirmed by the testimonyof my own senses; but, if the rumour were true, there still existedanother of these animals, who might harbour in the obscurities of thisdesert, and against whom it was necessary to employ some precaution. Henceforth I resolved never to traverse the wilderness unfurnished withmy tomahawk. 

These images, mingled with those which the contemplation of futuritysuggested, floated, for a time, in my brain, but at length gave place tosleep. 

Chapter XIII. 

Since my return home, my mind had been fully occupied by schemes andreflections relative to Clithero. The project suggested by thee, and towhich I had determined to devote my leisure, was forgotten, orremembered for a moment and at wide intervals. What, however, was nearlybanished from my waking thoughts, occurred in an incongruous andhalf-seen form, to my dreams. During my sleep, the image of Waldegraveflitted before me. Methought the sentiment that impelled him to visit mewas not affection or complacency, but inquietude and anger. Some serviceor duty remained to be performed by me, which I had culpably neglected:to inspirit my zeal, to awaken my remembrance, and incite me to theperformance of this duty, did this glimmering messenger, thishalf-indignant apparition, come. 

I commonly awake soon enough to mark the youngest dawn of the morning. Now, in consequence perhaps of my perturbed sleep, I opened my eyesbefore the stars had lost any of their lustre. This circumstanceproduced some surprise, until the images that lately hovered in my fancywere recalled, and furnished somewhat like a solution of the problem. Connected with the image of my dead friend was that of his sister. Thediscourse that took place at our last interview; the scheme oftranscribing, for thy use, all the letters which, during his short butbusy life, I received from him; the nature of this correspondence, andthe opportunity which this employment would afford me of contemplatingthese ample and precious monuments of the intellectual existence andmoral pre-eminence of my friend, occurred to my thoughts. 

The resolution to prosecute the task was revived. The obligation ofbenevolence, with regard to Clithero, was not discharged. This, neitherduty nor curiosity would permit to be overlooked or delayed; but whyshould my whole attention and activity be devoted to this man? The hourswhich were spent at home and in my chamber could not be more usefullyemployed than in making my intended copy. 

In a few hours after sunrise I purposed to resume my way to themountain. Could this interval be appropriated to a better purpose thanin counting over my friend's letters, setting them apart from my own, and preparing them for that transcription from which I expected so highand yet so mournful a gratification?

This purpose, by no violent union, was blended with the recollection ofmy dream. This recollection infused some degree of wavering anddejection into my mind. In transcribing these letters I should violatepathetic and solemn injunctions frequently repeated by the writer. Wasthere some connection between this purpose and the incidents of myvision? Was the latter sent to enforce the interdictions which had beenformerly imposed?

Thou art not fully acquainted with the intellectual history of thybrother. Some information on that head will be necessary to explain thenature of that reluctance which I now feel to comply with thy request, and which had formerly so much excited thy surprise. 

Waldegrave, like other men early devoted to meditation and books, hadadopted, at different periods, different systems of opinion on topicsconnected with religion and morals. His earliest creeds tended to effacethe impressions of his education; to deify necessity and universalizematter; to destroy the popular distinctions between soul and body, andto dissolve the supposed connection between the moral condition of mananterior and subsequent to death. 

This creed he adopted with all the fulness of conviction, and propagatedwith the utmost zeal. Soon after our friendship commenced, fortuneplaced us at a distance from each other, and no intercourse was allowedbut by the pen. Our letters, however, were punctual and copious. Thoseof Waldegrave were too frequently devoted to the defence of hisfavourite tenets. 

Thou art acquainted with the revolution that afterwards took place inhis mind. Placed within the sphere of religious influence, and listeningdaily to the reasonings and exhortations of Mr. S----, whose benigntemper and blameless deportment was a visible and constant lesson, heinsensibly resumed the faith which he had relinquished, and became thevehement opponent of all that he had formerly defended. The chief objectof his labours, in this new state of his mind, was to counteract theeffect of his former reasonings on my opinions. 

At this time, other changes took place in his situation, in consequenceof which we were once more permitted to reside under the same roof. Theintercourse now ceased to be by letter, and the subtle and laboriousargumentations which he had formerly produced against religion, andwhich were contained in a permanent form, were combated in transientconversation. He was not only eager to subvert those opinions which hehad contributed to instil into me, but was anxious that the letters andmanuscripts which had been employed in their support should bedestroyed. He did not fear wholly or chiefly on my own account. Hebelieved that the influence of former reasonings on my faith would besufficiently eradicated by the new; but he dreaded lest thesemanuscripts might fall into other hands, and thus produce mischiefswhich it would not be in his power to repair. With regard to me, thepoison had been followed by its antidote; but with respect to others, these letters would communicate the poison when the antidote could notbe administered. 

I would not consent to this sacrifice. I did not entirely abjure thecreed which had, with great copiousness and eloquence, been defended inthese letters. Besides, mixed up with abstract reasonings werenumberless passages which elucidated the character and history of myfriend. These were too precious to be consigned to oblivion; and to takethem out of their present connection and arrangement would be tomutilate and deform them. 

His entreaties and remonstrances were earnest and frequent, but alwaysineffectual. He had too much purity of motives to be angry at mystubbornness; but his sense of the mischievous tendency of these letterswas so great, that my intractability cost him many a pang. 

He was now gone, and I had not only determined to preserve thesemonuments, but had consented to copy them for the use of another; forthe use of one whose present and eternal welfare had been the chiefobject of his cares and efforts. Thou, like others of thy sex, artunaccustomed to metaphysical refinements. Thy religion is the growth ofsensibility and not of argument. Thou art not fortified and prepossessedagainst the subtleties with which the being and attributes of the Deityhave been assailed. Would it be just to expose thee to pollution anddepravity from this source? To make thy brother the instrument of thyapostasy, the author of thy fall? That brother whose latter days were soardently devoted to cherishing the spirit of devotion in thy heart?

These ideas now occurred with more force than formerly. I had promised, not without reluctance, to give thee the entire copy of his letters; butI now receded from this promise. I resolved merely to select for thyperusal such as were narrative or descriptive. This could not be donewith too much expedition. It was still dark, but my sleep was at an end, and, by a common apparatus, that lay beside my bed, I could instantlyproduce a light. 

The light was produced, and I proceeded to the cabinet where all mypapers and books are deposited. This was my own contrivance andworkmanship, undertaken by the advice of Sarsefield, who took infinitepains to foster that mechanical genius which displayed itself so earlyand so forcibly in thy friend. The key belonging to this was, like thecabinet itself, of singular structure. For greater safety, it wasconstantly placed in a closet, which was likewise locked. 

The key was found as usual, and the cabinet opened. The letters werebound together in a compact form, lodged in a parchment case, and placedin a secret drawer. This drawer would not have been detected by commoneyes, and it opened by the motion of a spring, of whose existence nonebut the maker was conscious. This drawer I had opened before I went tosleep, and the letters were then safe. 

Thou canst not imagine my confusion and astonishment, when, on openingthe drawer, I perceived that the packet was gone. I looked with moreattention, and put my hand within it; but the space was empty. Whitherhad it gone, and by whom was it purloined? I was not conscious of havingtaken it away, yet no hands but mine could have done it. On the lastevening I had doubtless removed it to some other corner, but hadforgotten it. I tasked my understanding and my memory. I could notconceive the possibility of any motives inducing me to alter myarrangements in this respect, and was unable to recollect that I hadmade this change. 

What remained? This invaluable relic had disappeared. Every thought andevery effort must be devoted to the single purpose of regaining it. Asyet I did not despair. Until I had opened and ransacked every part ofthe cabinet in vain, I did not admit the belief that I had lost it. Eventhen this persuasion was tumultuous and fluctuating. It had vanished tomy senses, but these senses were abused and depraved. To have passed, ofits own accord, through the pores of this wood, was impossible; but, ifit were gone, thus did it escape. 

I was lost in horror and amazement. I explored every nook a second and athird time, but still it eluded my eye and my touch. I opened my closetsand cases. I pried everywhere, unfolded every article of clothing, turned and scrutinized every instrument and tool, but nothing availed. 

My thoughts were not speedily collected or calmed. I threw myself on thebed and resigned myself to musing. That my loss was irretrievable was asupposition not to be endured. Yet ominous terrors haunted me, --awhispering intimation that a relic which I valued more than life wastorn forever away by some malignant and inscrutable destiny. The samepower that had taken it from this receptacle was able to waft it overthe ocean or the mountains, and condemn me to a fruitless and eternalsearch. 

But what was he that committed the theft? Thou only, of the beings wholive, wast acquainted with the existence of these manuscripts. Thou artmany miles distant, and art utterly a stranger to the mode or place oftheir concealment. Not only access to the cabinet, but access to theroom, without my knowledge and permission, was impossible. Both werelocked during this night. Not five hours had elapsed since the cabinetand drawer had been opened, and since the letters had been seen andtouched, being in their ordinary position. During this interval, thethief had entered, and despoiled me of my treasure. 

This event, so inexplicable and so dreadful, threw my soul into a kindof stupor or distraction, from which I was suddenly roused by a footstepsoftly moving in the entry near my door. I started from my bed, as if Ihad gained a glimpse of the robber. Before I could run to the door, someone knocked. I did not think upon the propriety of answering the signal, but hastened with tremulous fingers and throbbing heart to open thedoor. My uncle, in his night-dress, and apparently just risen from hisbed, stood before me!

He marked the eagerness and perturbation of my looks, and inquired intothe cause. I did not answer his inquiries. His appearance in my chamberand in this guise added to my surprise. My mind was full of the latediscovery, and instantly conceived some connection between thisunseasonable visit and my lost manuscript. I interrogated him in my turnas to the cause of his coming. 

"Why, " said he, "I came to ascertain whether it was you or not whoamused himself so strangely at this time of night. What is the matterwith you? Why are you up so early?"

I told him that I had been roused by my dreams, and, finding noinclination to court my slumber back again, I had risen, though earlierby some hours than the usual period of my rising. 

"But why did you go up-stairs? You might easily imagine that the soundof your steps would alarm those below, who would be puzzled to guess whoit was that had thought proper to amuse himself in this manner. "

"Up-stairs? I have not left my room this night. It is not ten minutessince I awoke, and my door has not since been opened. "

"Indeed! That is strange. Nay, it is impossible! It was your feet surelythat I heard pacing so solemnly and indefatigably across the _longroom_ for near an hour. I could not for my life conjecture, for atime, who it was, but finally concluded that it was you. There wasstill, however, some doubt, and I came hither to satisfy myself. "

These tidings were adapted to raise all my emotions to a still higherpitch. I questioned him with eagerness as to the circumstances he hadnoticed. He said he had been roused by a sound, whose power ofdisturbing him arose, not from its loudness, but from its uncommonness. He distinctly heard some one pacing to and fro with bare feet, in thelong room: this sound continued, with little intermission, for an hour. He then noticed a cessation of the walking, and a sound as if some onewere lifting the lid of the large cedar chest that stood in the cornerof this room. The walking was not resumed, and all was silent. Helistened for a quarter of an hour, and busied himself in conjecturingthe cause of this disturbance. The most probable conclusion was, thatthe walker was his nephew, and his curiosity had led him to my chamberto ascertain the truth. 

This dwelling has three stories. The two lower stories are divided intonumerous apartments. The upper story constitutes a single room whosesides are the four walls of the house, and whose ceiling is the roof. This room is unoccupied, except by lumber, and imperfectly lighted by asmall casement at one end. In this room were footsteps heard by myuncle. 

The staircase leading to it terminated in a passage near my door. Isnatched the candle, and, desiring him to follow me, added that I wouldascertain the truth in a moment. He followed, but observed that thewalking had ceased long enough for the person to escape. 

I ascended to the room, and looked behind and among the tables, andchairs, and casks, which were confusedly scattered through it, but foundnothing in the shape of man. The cedar chest, spoken of by Mr. Huntly, contained old books, and remnants of maps and charts, whoseworthlessness unfitted them for accomodation elsewhere. The lid waswithout hinges or lock. I examined this repository, but there wasnothing which attracted my attention. 

The way between the kitchen-door and the door of the long room had noimpediments. Both were usually unfastened; but the motives by which anystranger to the dwelling, or indeed any one within it, could be promptedto choose this place and hour for an employment of this kind, werewholly incomprehensible. 

When the family rose, inquiries were made; but no satisfaction wasobtained. The family consisted only of four persons, --my uncle, my twosisters, and myself. I mentioned to them the loss I had sustained, buttheir conjectures were no less unsatisfactory on this than on the formerincident. 

There was no end to my restless meditations. Waldegrave was the onlybeing, besides myself, acquainted with the secrets of my cabinet. Duringhis life these manuscripts had been the objects of perpetual solicitude;to gain possession, to destroy or secrete them, was the strongest of hiswishes. Had he retained his sensibility on the approach of death, nodoubt he would have renewed, with irresistible solemnity, hisinjunctions to destroy them. 

Now, however, they had vanished. There were no materials of conjecture;no probabilities to be weighed, or suspicions to revolve. Human artificeor power was unequal to this exploit. Means less than preternaturalwould not furnish a conveyance for this treasure. 

It was otherwise with regard to this unseasonable walker. Hisinducements indeed were beyond my power to conceive; but to enter thesedoors and ascend these stairs demanded not the faculties of any beingmore than human. 

This intrusion, and the pillage of my cabinet, were contemporary events. Was there no more connection between them than that which results fromtime? Was not the purloiner of my treasure and the wanderer the sameperson? I could not reconcile the former incident with the attributes ofman; and yet a secret faith, not to be outrooted or suspended, swayedme, and compelled me to imagine that the detection of this visitantwould unveil the thief. 

These thoughts were pregnant with dejection and reverie. Clithero, during the day, was forgotten. On the succeeding night, my intentions, with regard to this man, returned. I derived some slender consolationfrom reflecting, that time, in its long lapse and ceaseless revolutions, might dissipate the gloom that environed me. Meanwhile, I struggled todismiss the images connected with my loss and to think only of Clithero. 

My impatience was as strong as ever to obtain another interview withthis man. I longed with vehemence for the return of day. I believed thatevery moment added to his sufferings, intellectual and physical, andconfided in the efficacy of my presence to alleviate or suspend them. The provisions I had left would be speedily consumed, and the abstinenceof three days was sufficient to undermine the vital energies. Isometimes hesitated whether I ought not instantly to depart. It wasnight indeed, but the late storm had purified the air, and the radianceof a full moon was universal and dazzling. 

From this attempt I was deterred by reflecting that my own frame neededthe repairs of sleep. Toil and watchfulness, if prolonged another day, would deeply injure a constitution by no means distinguished for itsforce. I must, therefore, compel, if it were possible, some hours ofrepose. I prepared to retire to bed, when a new incident occurred todivert my attention for a time from these designs. 

Chapter XIV. 

While sitting alone by the parlour-fire, marking the effects ofmoonlight, I noted one on horseback coming towards the gate. At firstsight, methought his shape and guise were not wholly new to me; but allthat I could discern was merely a resemblance to some one whom I hadbefore seen. Presently he stopped, and, looking towards the house, madeinquiries of a passenger who chanced to be near. Being apparentlysatisfied with the answers he received, he rode with a quick pace intothe court and alighted at the door. I started from my seat, and, goingforth, waited with some impatience to hear his purpose explained. 

He accosted me with the formality of a stranger, and asked if a youngman, by name Edgar Huntly, resided here. Being answered in theaffirmative, and being requested to come in, he entered, and seatedhimself, without hesitation, by the fire. Some doubt and anxiety werevisible in his looks. He seemed desirous of information upon some topic, and yet betrayed terror lest the answers he might receive should subvertsome hope or confirm some foreboding. 

Meanwhile I scrutinized his features with much solicitude. A nearer andmore deliberate view convinced me that the first impression was just;but still I was unable to call up his name or the circumstances of ourformer meeting. The pause was at length ended by his saying, in afaltering voice, --

"My name is Weymouth. I came hither to obtain information on a subjectin which my happiness is deeply concerned. "

At the mention of his name, I started. It was a name too closelyconnected with the image of thy brother, not to call up affecting andvivid recollections. Weymouth, thou knowest, was thy brother's friend. It is three years since this man left America, during which time notidings had been heard of him, --at least, by thy brother. He had nowreturned, and was probably unacquainted with the fate of his friend. 

After an anxious pause, he continued:--"Since my arrival I have heard ofan event which has, on many accounts, given me the deepest sorrow. Iloved Waldegrave, and know not any person in the world whose life wasdearer to me than his. There were considerations, however, which made itmore precious to me than the life of one whose merits might be greater. With his life, my own existence and property were, I have reason tothink, inseparably united. 

"On my return to my country, after a long absence, I made immediateinquiries after him. I was informed of his untimely death. I hadquestions, of infinite moment to my happiness, to decide with regard tothe state and disposition of his property. I sought out those of hisfriends who had maintained with him the most frequent and confidentialintercourse, but they could not afford me any satisfaction. At length, Iwas informed that a young man of your name, and living in this district, had enjoyed more of his affection and society than any other, hadregulated the property which he left behind, and was best qualified toafford the intelligence which I sought. You, it seems, are this person, and of you I must make inquiries to which I conjure you to returnsincere and explicit answers. "

"That, " said I, "I shall find no difficulty in doing. Whatever questionsyou shall think proper to ask, I will answer with readiness and truth. "

"What kind of property, and to what amount, was your friend possessed ofat his death?"

"It was money, and consisted of deposits at the Bank of North America. The amount was little short of eight thousand dollars. "

"On whom has this property devolved?"

"His sister was his only kindred, and she is now in possession of it. "

"Did he leave any will by which he directed the disposition of hisproperty?" While thus speaking, Weymouth fixed his eyes upon mycountenance, and seemed anxious to pierce into my inmost soul. I wassomewhat surprised at his questions, but much more at the manner inwhich they were put. I answered him, however, without delay:--"He leftno will, nor was any paper discovered by which we could guess at hisintentions. No doubt, indeed, had he made a will, his sister would havebeen placed precisely in the same condition in which she now is. He wasnot only bound to her by the strongest ties of kindred, but by affectionand gratitude. "

Weymouth now withdrew his eyes from my face, and sunk into a mournfulreverie. He sighed often and deeply. This deportment and the strain ofhis inquiries excited much surprise. His interest in the fate ofWaldegrave ought to have made the information he had received a sourceof satisfaction rather than of regret. The property which Waldegraveleft was much greater than his mode of life and his own professions hadgiven us reason to expect, but it was no more than sufficient to insureto thee an adequate subsistence. It ascertained the happiness of thosewho were dearest to Waldegrave, and placed them forever beyond the reachof that poverty which had hitherto beset them. I made no attempt tointerrupt the silence, but prepared to answer any new interrogatory. Atlength, Weymouth resumed:--

"Waldegrave was a fortunate man to amass so considerable a sum in soshort a time. I remember, when we parted, he was poor. He used to lamentthat his scrupulous integrity precluded him from all the common roads towealth. He did not contemn riches, but he set the highest value uponcompetence, and imagined that he was doomed forever to poverty. Hisreligious duty compelled him to seek his livelihood by teaching a schoolof blacks. The labour was disproportioned to his feeble constitution, and the profit was greatly disproportioned to the labour. It scarcelysupplied the necessities of nature, and was reduced sometimes even belowthat standard by his frequent indisposition. I rejoice to find that hisscruples had somewhat relaxed their force, and that he had betakenhimself to some more profitable occupation. Pray, what was his new wayof business?"

"Nay, " said I, "his scruples continued as rigid, in this respect, asever. He was teacher of the negro freeschool when he died. "

"Indeed! How, then, came he to amass so much money? Could he blend anymore lucrative pursuit with his duty as a schoolmaster?"

"So it seems. "

"What was his pursuit?"

"That question, I believe, none of his friends are qualified to answer. I thought myself acquainted with the most secret transactions of hislife, but this had been carefully concealed from me. I was not onlyunapprized of any other employment of his time, but had not theslightest suspicion of his possessing any property besides his clothesand books. Ransacking his papers, with a different view, I lighted onhis bank-book, in which was a regular receipt for seven thousand fivehundred dollars. By what means he acquired this money, and even theacquisition of it, till his death put us in possession of his papers, was wholly unknown to us. "

"Possibly he might have held it in trust for another. In this case somememorandums or letters would be found explaining this affair. "

"True. This supposition could not fail to occur, in consequence of whichthe most diligent search was made among his papers, but no shred orscrap was to be found which countenanced our conjecture. "

"You may reasonably be surprised, and perhaps offended, " said Weymouth, "at these inquiries; but it is time to explain my motives for makingthem. Three years ago I was, like Waldegrave, indigent, and earned mybread by daily labour. During seven years' service in a public office, Isaved, from the expenses of subsistence, a few hundred dollars. Idetermined to strike into a new path, and, with this sum, to lay thefoundation of better fortune. I turned it into a bulky commodity, freighted and loaded a small vessel, and went with it to Barcelona inSpain. I was not unsuccessful in my projects, and, changing my abode toEngland, France, and Germany, according as my interest required, Ibecame finally possessed of sufficient for the supply of all my wants. Ithen resolved to return to my native country, and, laying out my moneyin land, to spend the rest of my days in the luxury and quiet of anopulent farmer. For this end I invested the greatest part of my propertyin a cargo of wine from Madeira. The remainder I turned into a bill ofexchange for seven thousand five hundred dollars. I had maintained afriendly correspondence with Waldegrave during my absence. There was noone with whom I had lived on terms of so much intimacy, and hadboundless confidence in his integrity. To him therefore I determined totransmit this bill, requesting him to take the money into safe-keepinguntil my return. In this manner I endeavoured to provide against theaccidents that might befall my person or my cargo in crossing the ocean. 

"It was my fate to encounter the worst of these disasters. We wereovertaken by a storm, my vessel was driven ashore on the coast ofPortugal, my cargo was utterly lost, and the greater part of the crewand passengers were drowned. I was rescued from the same fate by somefishermen. In consequence of the hardships to which I had been exposed, having laboured for several days at the pumps, and spent the greaterpart of a winter night hanging from the rigging of the ship andperpetually beaten by the waves, I contracted a severe disease, whichbereaved me of the use of my limbs. The fishermen who rescued me carriedme to their huts, and there I remained three weeks helpless andmiserable. 

"That part of the coast on which I was thrown was, in the highestdegree, sterile and rude. Its few inhabitants subsisted precariously onthe produce of the ocean. Their dwellings were of mud, --low, filthy, dark, and comfortless. Their fuel was the stalks of shrubs sparinglyscattered over a sandy desert. Their poverty scarcely allowed them saltand black bread with their fish, which was obtained in unequal andsometimes insufficient quantities, and which they ate with all itsimpurities, and half cooked. 

"My former habits, as well as my present indisposition, required verydifferent treatment from what the ignorance and penury of these peopleobliged them to bestow. I lay upon the moist earth, imperfectlysheltered from the sky, and with neither raiment nor fire to keep mewarm. My hosts had little attention or compassion to spare to the wantsof others. They could not remove me to a more hospitable district; andhere, without doubt, I should have perished, had not a monk chanced tovisit their hovels. He belonged to a convent of St. Jago, some leaguesfarther from the shore, which used to send one of its members annuallyto inspect the religious concerns of those outcasts. Happily, this wasthe period of their visitations. 

"My abode in Spain had made me somewhat conversant with its language. The dialect of this monk did not so much differ from Castilian but that, with the assistance of Latin, we were able to converse. The jargon ofthe fishermen was unintelligible, and they had vainly endeavoured tokeep up my spirits by informing me of this expected visit. 

"This monk was touched with compassion at my calamity, and speedilyprovided the means of my removal to his convent. Here I was charitablyentertained, and the aid of a physician was procured for me. He was butpoorly skilled in his profession, and rather confirmed than alleviatedmy disease. The Portuguese of his trade, especially in remoterdistricts, are little more than dealers in talismans and nostrums. For along time I was unable to leave my pallet, and had no prospect before mebut that of consuming my days in the gloom of this cloister. 

"All the members of this convent but he who had been my firstbenefactor, and whose name was Chaledro, were bigoted and sordid. Theirchief motive for treating me with kindness was the hope of obtaining aconvert from heresy. They spared no pains to subdue my errors, and werewilling to prolong my imprisonment, in the hope of finally gaining theirend. Had my fate been governed by those, I should have been immured inthis convent, and compelled either to adopt their fanatical creed or toput an end to my own life, in order to escape their well-meantpersecutions. Chaledro, however, though no less sincere in his faith andurgent in his entreaties, yet finding me invincible, exerted hisinfluence to obtain my liberty. 

"After many delays, and strenuous exertions of my friend, they consentedto remove me to Oporto. The journey was to be performed in an open cart, over a mountainous country, in the heats of summer. The monksendeavoured to dissuade me from the enterprise, for my own sake, itbeing scarcely possible that one in my feeble state should survive ajourney like this; but I despaired of improving my condition by othermeans. I preferred death to the imprisonment of a Portuguese monastery, and knew that I could hope for no alleviation of my disease but from theskill of Scottish or French physicians, whom I expected to meet with inthat city. I adhered to my purpose with so much vehemence and obstinacy, that they finally yielded to my wishes. 

"My road lay through the wildest and most rugged districts. It did notexceed ninety miles, but seven days were consumed on the way. The motionof the vehicle racked me with the keenest pangs, and my attendantsconcluded that every stage would be my last. They had been selectedwithout due regard to their characters. They were knavish and inhuman, and omitted nothing but actual violence to hasten my death. Theypurposely retarded the journey, and protracted to seven what might havebeen readily performed in four days. They neglected to execute theorders which they had received respecting my lodging and provisions; andfrom them, as well as from the peasants, who were sure to be informedthat I was a heretic, I suffered every species of insult and injury. Myconstitution, as well as my frame, possessed a fund of strength of whichI had no previous conception. In spite of hardship, and exposure, andabstinence, I at last arrived at Oporto. 

"Instead of being carried, agreeably to Chaledro's direction, to aconvent of St. Jago, I was left, late in the evening, in the porch of acommon hospital. My attendants, having laid me on the pavement andloaded me with imprecations, left me to obtain admission by my ownefforts. I passed the livelong night in this spot, and in the morningwas received into the house in a state which left it uncertain whether Iwas alive or dead. 

"After recovering my sensibility, I made various efforts to procure avisit from some English merchant. This was no easy undertaking for onein my deplorable condition. I was too weak to articulate my wordsdistinctly, and these words were rendered, by my foreign accent, scarcely intelligible. The likelihood of my speedy death made the peopleabout me more indifferent to my wants and petitions. 

"I will not dwell upon my repeated disappointments, but content myselfwith mentioning that I gained the attention of a French gentleman whosecuriosity brought him to view the hospital. Through him I obtained avisit from an English merchant, and finally gained the notice of aperson who formerly resided in America, and of whom I had imperfectknowledge. By their kindness I was removed from the hospital to aprivate house. A Scottish surgeon was summoned to my assistance, and inseven months I was restored to my present state of health. 

"At Oporto, I embarked, in an American ship, for New York. I wasdestitute of all property, and relied, for the payment of the debtswhich I was obliged to contract, as well as for my future subsistence, on my remittance to Waldegrave. I hastened to Philadelphia, and was sooninformed that my friend was dead. His death had taken place a long timesince my remittance to him: hence this disaster was a subject of regretchiefly on his own account. I entertained no doubt but that my propertyhad been secured, and that either some testamentary directions or somepapers had been left behind respecting this affair. 

"I sought out those who were formerly our mutual acquaintance. I foundthat they were wholly strangers to his affairs. They could merely relatesome particulars of his singular death, and point out the lodgings whichhe formerly occupied. Hither I forthwith repaired, and discovered thathe lived in this house with his sister, disconnected with its otherinhabitants. They described his mode of life in terms that showed themto be very imperfectly acquainted with it. It was easy indeed to infer, from their aspect and manners, that little sympathy or union could havesubsisted between them and their co-tenants; and this inference wasconfirmed by their insinuations, the growth of prejudice and envy. Theytold me that Waldegrave's sister had gone to live in the country, butwhither, or for how long, she had not condescended to inform them, andthey did not care to ask. She was a topping dame, whose notions weremuch too high for her station; who was more nice than wise, and yet wasone who could stoop when it most became her to stand upright. It was nobusiness of theirs; but they could not but mention their suspicions thatshe had good reasons for leaving the city and for concealing the placeof her retreat. Some things were hard to be disguised. They spoke forthemselves, and the only way to hinder disagreeable discoveries was tokeep out of sight. 

"I was wholly a stranger to Waldegrave's sister. I knew merely that hehad such a relation. There was nothing, therefore, to outbalance thisunfavourable report, but the apparent malignity and grossness of thosewho gave it. It was not, however, her character about which I wassolicitous, but merely the place where she might be found and thesuitable inquiries respecting her deceased brother be answered. On thishead, these people professed utter ignorance, and were either unable orunwilling to direct me to any person in the city who knew more thanthemselves. After much discourse, they, at length, let fall anintimation that, if any one knew her place of retreat, it was probably acountry-lad, by name Huntly, who lived near the _Forks_ ofDelaware. After Waldegrave's death this lad had paid his sister a visit, and seemed to be admitted on a very confidential footing. She left thehouse, for the last time, in his company, and he, therefore, was mostlikely to know what had become of her. 

"The name of Huntly was not totally unknown to me. I myself was born andbrought up in the neighbouring township of Chetasco. I had someknowledge of your family, and your name used often to be mentioned byWaldegrave as that of one who, at a maturer age, would prove himselfuseful to his country. I determined, therefore, to apply to you for whatinformation you could give. I designed to visit my father, who lives inChetasco, and relieve him from that disquiet which his ignorance of myfate could not fail to have inspired, and both these ends could be thus, at the same time, accomplished. 

"Before I left the city, I thought it proper to apply to the merchant onwhom my bill had been drawn. If this bill had been presented and paid, he had doubtless preserved some record of it, and hence a clue might beafforded, though every other expedient should fail. My usual ill fortunepursued me upon this occasion; for the merchant had lately becomeinsolvent, and, to avoid the rage of his creditors, had fled, withoutleaving any vestige of this or similar transactions behind him. He had, some years since, been an adventurer from Holland, and was suspected tohave returned thither. "

Chapter XV. 

"I came hither with a heart desponding of success. Adversity hadweakened my faith in the promises of the future, and I was prepared toreceive just such tidings as you have communicated. Unacquainted withthe secret motives of Waldegrave and his sister, it is impossible for meto weigh the probabilities of their rectitude. I have only my ownassertion to produce in support of my claim. All other evidence, allvouchers and papers, which might attest my veracity or sanction my claimin a court of law, are buried in the ocean. The bill was transmittedjust before my departure from Madeira, and the letters by which it wasaccompanied informed Waldegrave of my design to follow it immediately. Hence he did not, it is probable, acknowledge the receipt of my letters. The vessels in which they were sent arrived in due season. I was assuredthat all letters were duly deposited in the post-office, where, atpresent, mine are not to be found. 

"You assure me that nothing has been found among his papers, hinting atany pecuniary transaction between him and me. Some correspondence passedbetween us previous to that event. Have no letters, with my signature, been found? Are you qualified, by your knowledge of his papers, toanswer me explicitly? Is it not possible for some letters to have beenmislaid?"

"I am qualified, " said I, "to answer your inquiries beyond any otherperson in the world. Waldegrave maintained only general intercourse withthe rest of mankind. With me his correspondence was copious, and hisconfidence, as I imagined, without bounds. His books and papers werecontained in a single chest at his lodgings, the keys of which he hadabout him when he died. These keys I carried to his sister, and wasauthorized by her to open and examine the contents of this chest. Thiswas done with the utmost care. These papers are now in my possession. Among them no paper, of the tenor you mention, was found, and no letterwith your signature. Neither Mary Waldegrave nor I are capable ofdisguising the truth or committing an injustice. The moment she receivesconviction of your right, she will restore this money to you. The momentI imbibe this conviction, I will exert all my influence (and it is notsmall) to induce her to restore it. Permit me, however, to question youin your turn. Who was the merchant on whom your bill was drawn, what wasthe date of it, and when did the bill and its counterparts arrive?"

"I do not exactly remember the date of the bills. They were made out, however, six days before I myself embarked, which happened on the 10thof August, 1784. They were sent by three vessels, one of which was boundto Charleston and the others to New York. The last arrived within twodays of each other, and about the middle of November in the same year. The name of the payer was Monteith. "

After a pause of recollection, I answered, "I will not hesitate toapprize you of every thing which may throw light upon this transaction, and whether favourable or otherwise to your claim. I have told you, among my friend's papers your name is not to be found. I must likewiserepeat that the possession of this money by Waldegrave was whollyunknown to us till his death. We are likewise unacquainted with anymeans by which he could get possession of so large a sum in his ownright. He spent no more than his scanty stipend as a teacher, thoughthis stipend was insufficient to supply his wants. This bank-receipt isdated in December, 1784, a fortnight, perhaps, after the date that youhave mentioned. You will perceive how much this coincidence, which couldscarcely have taken place by chance, is favourable to your claim. 

"Mary Waldegrave resides, at present, at Abingdon. She will rejoice, asI do, to see one who, as her brother's friend, is entitled to heraffection. Doubt not but that she will listen with impartiality andcandour to all that you can urge in defence of your title to this money. Her decision will not be precipitate, but it will be generous and just, and founded on such reasons that, even if it be adverse to your wishes, you will be compelled to approve it?"

"I can entertain no doubt, " he answered, "as to the equity of my claim. The coincidences you mention are sufficient to convince me that this sumwas received upon my bill; but this conviction must necessarily beconfined to myself. No one but I can be conscious to the truth of my ownstory. The evidence on which I build my faith, in this case, is that ofmy own memory and senses; but this evidence cannot make itselfconspicuous to you. You have nothing but my bare assertion, in additionto some probabilities flowing from the conduct of Waldegrave. What factsmay exist to corroborate my claim, which you have forgotten, or whichyou may think proper to conceal, I cannot judge. I know not what ispassing in the secret of your hearts; I am unacquainted with thecharacter of this lady and with yours. I have nothing on which to buildsurmises and suspicions of your integrity, and nothing to generateunusual confidence. The frailty of your virtue and the strength of yourtemptations I know not. However she decides in this case, and whateveropinion I shall form as to the reasonableness of her decision, it willnot become me either to upbraid her, or to nourish discontentment andrepinings. 

"I know that my claim has no legal support; that, if this money beresigned to me, it will be the impulse of spontaneous justice, and notthe coercion of law, to which I am indebted for it. Since, therefore, the justice of my claim is to be measured not by law, but by simpleequity, I will candidly acknowledge that, as yet, it is uncertainwhether I ought to receive, even should Miss Waldegrave be willing togive it. I know my own necessities and schemes, and in what degree thismoney would be subservient to these; but I know not the views and wantsof others, and cannot estimate the usefulness of this money to them. However I decide upon your conduct in withholding or retaining it, Ishall make suitable allowance for my imperfect knowledge of your motivesand wants, as well as for your unavoidable ignorance of mine. 

"I have related my sufferings from shipwreck and poverty, not to biasyour judgment or engage your pity, but merely because the impulse torelate them chanced to awake; because my heart is softened by theremembrance of Waldegrave, who has been my only friend, and by the sightof one whom he loved. 

"I told you that my father lived in Chetasco. He is now aged, and I amhis only child. I should have rejoiced in being able to relieve his grayhairs from labour to which his failing strength cannot be equal. Thiswas one of my inducements in coming to America. Another was, to preparethe way for a woman whom I married in Europe and who is now awaitingintelligence from me in London. Her poverty is not less than my own, andby marrying against the wishes of her kindred she has bereaved herselfof all support but that of her husband. Whether I shall be able torescue her from indigence, whether I shall alleviate the poverty of myfather, or increase it by burdening his scanty friends by my ownmaintenance as well as his, the future alone can determine. 

"I confess that my stock of patience and hope has never been large, andthat my misfortunes have nearly exhausted it. The flower of my years hasbeen consumed in struggling with adversity, and my constitution hasreceived a shock, from sickness and mistreatment in Portugal, which Icannot expect long to survive. But I make you sad, " he continued. "Ihave said all that I meant to say in this interview. I am impatient tosee my father, and night has already come. I have some miles yet to rideto his cottage, and over a rough road. I will shortly visit you again, and talk to you at greater leisure on these and other topics. At presentI leave you. "

I was unwilling to part so abruptly with this guest, and entreated himto prolong his visit; but he would not be prevailed upon. Repeating hispromise of shortly seeing me again, he mounted his horse anddisappeared. I looked after him with affecting and complex emotions. Ireviewed the incidents of this unexpected and extraordinary interview, as if it had existed in a dream. An hour had passed, and this strangerhad alighted among us as from the clouds, to draw the veil from thoseobscurities which had bewildered us so long, to make visible a new trainof disastrous consequences flowing from the untimely death of thybrother, and to blast that scheme of happiness on which thou and I hadso fondly meditated. 

But what wilt thou think of this new-born claim? The story, hadst thouobserved the features and guise of the relater, would have won thyimplicit credit. His countenance exhibited deep traces of theafflictions he had endured, and the fortitude which he had exercised. Hewas sallow and emaciated, but his countenance was full of seriousnessand dignity. A sort of ruggedness of brow, the token of great mentalexertion and varied experience, argued a premature old age. 

What a mournful tale! Is such the lot of those who wander from theirrustic homes in search of fortune? Our countrymen are prone toenterprise, and are scattered over every sea and every land in pursuitof that wealth which will not screen them from disease and infirmity, which is missed much oftener than found, and which, when gained, by nomeans compensates them for the hardships and vicissitudes endured in thepursuit. 

But what if the truth of these pretensions be admitted? The money mustbe restored to its right owner. I know that, whatever inconveniences mayfollow the deed, thou wilt not hesitate to act justly. Affluence anddignity, however valuable, may be purchased too dear. Honesty will nottake away its keenness from the winter blast, its ignominy andunwholesomeness from servile labour, or strip of its charms the life ofelegance and leisure; but these, unaccompanied with self-reproach, areless deplorable than wealth and honour the possession of which is marredby our own disapprobation. 

I know the bitterness of this sacrifice. I know the impatience withwhich your poverty has formerly been borne; how much your earlyeducation is at war with that degradation and obscurity to which youryouth has been condemned; how earnestly your wishes panted after a statewhich might exempt you from dependence upon daily labour and on thecaprices of others, and might secure to you leisure to cultivate andindulge your love of knowledge and your social and beneficentaffections. 

Your motive for desiring a change of fortune has been greatly enforcedsince we have become known to each other. Thou hast honoured me with thyaffection; but that union, on which we rely for happiness, could nottake place while both of us were poor. My habits, indeed, have madelabour and rustic obscurity less painful than they would prove to myfriend, but my present condition is wholly inconsistent with marriage. As long as my exertions are insufficient to maintain us both, it wouldbe unjustifiable to burden you with new cares and duties. Of this youare more thoroughly convinced than I am. The love of independence andease, and impatience of drudgery, are woven into your constitution. Perhaps they are carried to an erroneous extreme, and derogate from thatuncommon excellence by which your character is, in other respects, distinguished; but they cannot be removed. 

This obstacle was unexpectedly removed by the death of your brother. However justly to be deplored was this catastrophe, yet, like everyother event, some of its consequences were good. By giving youpossession of the means of independence and leisure, by enabling us tocomplete a contract which poverty alone had thus long delayed, thisevent has been, at the same time, the most disastrous and propitiouswhich could have happened. 

Why thy brother should have concealed from us the possession of thismoney, --why, with such copious means of indulgence and leisure, heshould still pursue his irksome trade, and live in so penurious amanner, --has been a topic of endless and unsatisfactory conjecturebetween us. It was not difficult to suppose that this money was held intrust for another; but in that case it was unavoidable that somedocument or memorandum, or at least some claimant, would appear. Muchtime has since elapsed, and you have thought yourself at lengthjustified in appropriating this money to your own use. 

Our flattering prospects are now shut in. You must return to youroriginal poverty, and once more depend for precarious subsistence onyour needle. You cannot restore the whole, for unavoidable expenses andthe change of your mode of living have consumed some part of it. For somuch you must consider yourself as Weymouth's debtor. 

Repine not, my friend, at this unlooked-for reverse. Think upon themerits and misfortunes of your brother's friend; think upon his agedfather, whom we shall enable him to rescue from poverty; think upon hisdesolate wife, whose merits are, probably, at least equal to your own, and whose helplessness is likely to be greater. I am not insensible tothe evils which have returned upon us with augmented force, afterhaving, for a moment, taken their flight. I know the precariousness ofmy condition and that of my sisters; that our subsistence hangs upon thelife of an old man. My uncle's death will transfer this property to hisson, who is a stranger and an enemy to us, and the first act of whoseauthority will unquestionably be to turn us forth from these doors. Marriage with thee was anticipated with joyous emotions, not merely onmy own account or on thine, but likewise for the sake of those belovedgirls to whom that event would enable me to furnish an asylum. 

But wedlock is now more distant than ever. Mv heart bleeds to think ofthe sufferings which my beloved Mary is again fated to endure; butregrets are only aggravations of calamity. They are pernicious, and itis our duty to shake them off. 

I can entertain no doubts as to the equity of Weymouth's claim. So manycoincidences could not have happened by chance. The non-appearance ofany letters or papers connected with it is indeed a mysteriouscircumstance; but why should Waldegrave be studious of preserving these?They were useless paper, and might, without impropriety, be cast away ormade to serve any temporary purpose. Perhaps, indeed, they still lurk insome unsuspected corner. To wish that time may explain this mystery in adifferent manner, and so as to permit our retention of this money, is, perhaps, the dictate of selfishness. The transfer to Weymouth will notbe productive of less benefit to him and to his family, than we shouldderive from the use of it. 

These considerations, however, will be weighed when we meet. Meanwhile Iwill return to my narrative. 

Chapter XVI. 

Here, my friend, thou must permit me to pause. The following incidentsare of a kind to which the most ardent invention has never conceived aparallel. Fortune, in her most wayward mood, could scarcely be suspectedof an influence like this. The scene was pregnant with astonishment andhorror. I cannot, even now, recall it without reviving the dismay andconfusion which I then experienced. 

Possibly, the period will arrive when I shall look back without agony onthe perils I have undergone. That period is still distant. Solitude andsleep are now no more than the signals to summon up a tribe of uglyphantoms. Famine, and blindness, and death, and savage enemies, neverfail to be conjured up by the silence and darkness of the night. Icannot dissipate them by any efforts of reason. Sly cowardice requiresthe perpetual consolation of light. My heart droops when I mark thedecline of the sun, and I never sleep but with a candle burning at mypillow. If, by any chance, I should awake and find myself immersed indarkness, I know not what act of desperation I might be suddenlyimpelled to commit. 

I have delayed this narrative longer than my duty to my friend enjoined. Now that I am able to hold a pen, I will hasten to terminate thatuncertainty with regard to my fate in which my silence has involvedthee. I will recall that series of unheard-of and disastrousvicissitudes which has constituted the latest portion of my life. 

I am not certain, however, that I shall relate them in an intelligiblemanner. One image runs into another; sensations succeed in so rapid atrain, that I fear I shall be unable to distribute and express them withsufficient perspicuity. As I look back, my heart is sore, and acheswithin my bosom. I am conscious to a kind of complex sentiment ofdistress and forlornness that cannot be perfectly portrayed by words;but I must do as well as I can. In the utmost vigour of my faculties, noeloquence that I possess would do justice to the tale. Now, in mylanguishing and feeble state, I shall furnish thee with little more thana glimpse of the truth. With these glimpses, transient and faint as theyare, thou must be satisfied. 

I have said that I slept. My memory assures me of this; it informs me ofthe previous circumstances of my laying aside my clothes, of placing thelight upon a chair within reach of my pillow, of throwing myself uponthe bed, and of gazing on the rays of the moon reflected on the wall andalmost obscured by those of the candle. I remember my occasionalrelapses into fits of incoherent fancies, the harbingers of sleep. Iremember, as it were, the instant when my thoughts ceased to flow and mysenses were arrested by the leaden wand of forgetfulness. 

My return to sensation and to consciousness took place in no suchtranquil scene. I emerged from oblivion by degrees so slow and so faint, that their succession cannot be marked. When enabled at length to attendto the information which my senses afforded, I was conscious for a timeof nothing but existence. It was unaccompanied with lassitude or pain, but I felt disinclined to stretch my limbs or raise my eyelids. Mythoughts were wildering and mazy, and, though consciousness was present, it was disconnected with the locomotive or voluntary power. 

From this state a transition was speedily effected. I perceived that myposture was supine, and that I lay upon my back. I attempted to open myeyes. The weight that oppressed them was too great for a slight exertionto remove. The exertion which I made cost me a pang more acute than anywhich I ever experienced. My eyes, however, were opened; but thedarkness that environed me was as intense as before. 

I attempted to rise, but my limbs were cold, and my joints had almostlost their flexibility. My efforts were repeated, and at length Iattained a sitting posture. I was now sensible of pain in my shouldersand back. I was universally in that state to which the frame is reducedby blows of a club, mercilessly and endlessly repeated; my templesthrobbed, and my face was covered with clammy and cold drops: but thatwhich threw me into deepest consternation was my inability to see. Iturned my head to different quarters; I stretched my eyelids, andexerted every visual energy, but in vain. I was wrapped in the murkiestand most impenetrable gloom. 

The first effort of reflection was to suggest the belief that I wasblind: that disease is known to assail us in a moment and withoutprevious warning. This, surely, was the misfortune that had now befallenme. Some ray, however fleeting and uncertain, could not fail to bediscerned, if the power of vision were not utterly extinguished. In whatcircumstances could I possibly be placed, from which every particle oflight should, by other means, be excluded?

This led my thoughts into a new train. I endeavoured to recall the past;but the past was too much in contradiction to the present, and myintellect was too much shattered by external violence, to allow meaccurately to review it. 

Since my sight availed nothing to the knowledge of my condition, Ibetook myself to other instruments. The element which I breathed wasstagnant and cold. The spot where I lay was rugged and hard. I wasneither naked nor clothed: a shirt and trousers composed my dress, andthe shoes and stockings, which always accompanied these, were nowwanting. What could I infer from this scanty garb, this chillingatmosphere, this stony bed?

I had awakened as from sleep. What was my condition when I fell asleep?Surely it was different from the present. Then I inhabited a lightsomechamber and was stretched upon a down bed; now I was supine upon arugged surface and immersed in palpable obscurity. Then I was in perfecthealth; now my frame was covered with bruises and every joint was rackedwith pain. What dungeon or den had received me, and by whose command wasI transported hither?

After various efforts I stood upon my feet. At first I tottered andstaggered. I stretched out my hands on all sides, but met only withvacuity. I advanced forward. At the third step my foot moved somethingwhich lay upon the ground: I stooped and took it up, and found, onexamination, that it was an Indian tomahawk. This incident afforded meno hint from which I might conjecture my state. 

Proceeding irresolutely and slowly forward, my hands at length touched awall. This, like the flooring, was of stone, and was rugged andimpenetrable. I followed this wall. An advancing angle occurred at ashort distance, which was followed by similar angles. I continued toexplore this clue, till the suspicion occurred that I was merely goinground the walls of a vast and irregular apartment. 

The utter darkness disabled me from comparing directions and distances. This discovery, therefore, was not made on a sudden, and was stillentangled with some doubt. My blood recovered some warmth, and mymuscles some elasticity; but in proportion as my sensibility returned, my pains augmented. Overpowered by my fears and my agonies, I desistedfrom my fruitless search, and sat down, supporting my back against thewall. 

My excruciating sensations for a time occupied my attention. These, incombination with other causes, gradually produced a species of delirium. I existed, as it were, in a wakeful dream. With nothing to correct myerroneous perceptions, the images of the past occurred in capriciouscombinations and vivid hues. Methought I was the victim of some tyrantwho had thrust me into a dungeon of his fortress, and left me no powerto determine whether he intended I should perish with famine, or lingerout a long life in hopeless imprisonment. Whether the day was shut outby insuperable walls, or the darkness that surrounded me was owing tothe night and to the smallness of those crannies through which daylightwas to be admitted, I conjectured in vain. 

Sometimes I imagined myself buried alive. Methought I had fallen intoseeming death, and my friends had consigned me to the tomb, from which aresurrection was impossible. That, in such a case, my limbs would havebeen confined to a coffin, and my coffin to a grave, and that I shouldinstantly have been suffocated, did not occur to destroy my supposition. Neither did this supposition overwhelm me with terror or prompt myefforts at deliverance. My state was full of tumult and confusion, andmy attention was incessantly divided between my painful sensations andmy feverish dreams. 

There is no standard by which time can be measured but the succession ofour thoughts and the changes that take place in the external world. Fromthe latter I was totally excluded. The former made the lapse of somehours appear like the tediousness of weeks and months. At length, a newsensation recalled my rambling meditations, and gave substance to myfears. I now felt the cravings of hunger, and perceived that, unless mydeliverance were speedily effected, I must suffer a tedious andlingering death. 

I once more tasked my understanding and my senses to discover the natureof my present situation and the means of escape. I listened to catchsome sound. I heard an unequal and varying echo, sometimes near andsometimes distant, sometimes dying away and sometimes swelling intoloudness. It was unlike any thing I had before heard, but it was evidentthat it arose from wind sweeping through spacious halls and windingpassages. These tokens were incompatible with the result of theexamination I had made. If my hands were true, I was immured betweenwalls through which there was no avenue. 

I now exerted my voice, and cried as loud as my wasted strength wouldadmit. Its echoes were sent back to me in broken and confused sounds andfrom above. This effort was casual, but some part of that uncertainty inwhich I was involved was instantly dispelled by it. In passing throughthe cavern on the former day, I have mentioned the verge of the pit atwhich I arrived. To acquaint me as far as was possible with thedimensions of the place, I had hallooed with all my force, knowing thatsound is reflected according to the distance and relative positions ofthe substances from which it is repelled. 

The effect produced by my voice on this occasion resembled, withremarkable exactness, the effect which was then produced. Was I, then, shut up in the same cavern? Had I reached the brink of the sameprecipice and been thrown headlong into that vacuity? Whence else couldarise the bruises which I had received, but from my fall? Yet allremembrance of my journey hither was lost. I had determined to explorethis cave on the ensuing day, but my memory informed me not that thisintention had been carried into effect. Still, it was only possible toconclude that I had come hither on my intended expedition, and had beenthrown by another, or had, by some ill chance, fallen, into the pit. 

This opinion was conformable to what I had already observed. Thepavement and walls were rugged like those of the footing and sides ofthe cave through which I had formerly passed. 

But if this were true, what was the abhorred catastrophe to which I wasnow reserved? The sides of this pit were inaccessible; human footstepswould never wander into these recesses. My friends were unapprized of myforlorn state. Here I should continue till wasted by famine. In thisgrave should I linger out a few days in unspeakable agonies, and thenperish forever. 

The inroads of hunger were already experienced; and this knowledge ofthe desperateness of my calamity urged me to frenzy. I had none butcapricious and unseen fate to condemn. The author of my distress, andthe means he had taken to decoy me hither, were incomprehensible. Surelymy senses were fettered or depraved by some spell. I was still asleep, and this was merely a tormenting vision; or madness had seized me, andthe darkness that environed and the hunger that afflicted me existedonly in my own distempered imagination. 

The consolation of these doubts could not last long. Every hour added tothe proof that my perceptions were real. My hunger speedily becameferocious. I tore the linen of my shirt between my teeth and swallowedthe fragments. I felt a strong propensity to bite the flesh from my arm. My heart overflowed with cruelty, and I pondered on the delight I shouldexperience in rending some living animal to pieces, and drinking itsblood and grinding its quivering fibres between my teeth. 

This agony had already passed beyond the limits of endurance. I saw thattime, instead of bringing respite or relief, would only aggravate mywants, and that my only remaining hope was to die before I should beassaulted by the last extremes of famine. I now recollected that atomahawk was at hand, and rejoiced in the possession of an instrument bywhich I could so effectually terminate my sufferings. 

I took it in my hand, moved its edge over my fingers, and reflected onthe force that was required to make it reach my heart. I investigatedthe spot where it should enter, and strove to fortify myself withresolution to repeat the stroke a second or third time, if the firstshould prove insufficient. I was sensible that I might fail to inflict amortal wound, but delighted to consider that the blood which would bemade to flow would finally release me, and that meanwhile my pains wouldbe alleviated by swallowing this blood. 

You will not wonder that I felt some reluctance to employ so fatalthough indispensable a remedy. I once more ruminated on the possibilityof rescuing myself by other means. I now reflected that the uppertermination of the wall could not be at an immeasurable distance fromthe pavement. I had fallen from a height; but if that height had beenconsiderable, instead of being merely bruised, should I not have beendashed into pieces?

Gleams of hope burst anew upon my soul. Was it not possible, I asked, toreach the top of this pit? The sides were rugged and uneven. Would nottheir projectures and abruptnesses serve me as steps by which I mightascend in safety? This expedient was to be tried without delay. Shortlymy strength would fail, and my doom would be irrevocably sealed. 

I will not enumerate my laborious efforts, my alternations ofdespondency and confidence, the eager and unwearied scrutiny with whichI examined the surface, the attempts which I made, and the failureswhich, for a time, succeeded each other. A hundred times, when I hadascended some feet from the bottom, I was compelled to relinquish myundertaking by the _untenable_ smoothness of the spaces whichremained to be gone over. A hundred times I threw myself, exhausted byfatigue and my pains, on the ground. The consciousness was graduallyrestored that, till I had attempted every part of the wall, it wasabsurd to despair, and I again drew my tottering limbs and aching jointsto that part of the wall which had not been surveyed. 

At length, as I stretched my hand upward, I found somewhat that seemedlike a recession in the wall. It was possible that this was the top ofthe cavity, and this might be the avenue to liberty. My heart leapedwith joy, and I proceeded to climb the wall. No undertaking could beconceived more arduous than this. The space between this verge and thefloor was nearly smooth. The verge was higher from the bottom than myhead. The only means of ascending that were offered me were by my hands, with which I could draw myself upward so as, at length, to maintain myhold with my feet. 

My efforts were indefatigable, and at length I placed myself on theverge. When this was accomplished, my strength was nearly gone. Had Inot found space enough beyond this brink to stretch myself at length, Ishould unavoidably have fallen backward into the pit, and all my painshad served no other end than to deepen my despair and hasten mydestruction. 

What impediments and perils remained to be encountered I could notjudge. I was now inclined to forebode the worst. The interval of reposewhich was necessary to be taken, in order to recruit my strength, wouldaccelerate the ravages of famine, and leave me without the power toproceed. 

In this state, I once more consoled myself that an instrument of deathwas at hand. I had drawn up with me the tomahawk, being sensible that, should this impediment be overcome, others might remain that would proveinsuperable. Before I employed it, however, I cast my eyes wildly andlanguidly around. The darkness was no less intense than in the pitbelow, and yet two objects were distinctly seen. 

They resembled a fixed and obscure flame. They were motionless. Thoughlustrous themselves, they created no illumination around them. Thiscircumstance, added to others, which reminded me of similar objectsnoted on former occasions, immediately explained the nature of what Ibeheld. These were the eyes of a panther. 

Thus had I struggled to obtain a post where a savage was lurking andwaited only till my efforts should place me within reach of his fangs. The first impulse was to arm myself against this enemy. Thedesperateness of my condition was, for a moment, forgotten. The weaponwhich was so lately lifted against my own bosom was now raised to defendmy life against the assault of another. 

There was no time for deliberation and delay. In a moment he mightspring from his station and tear me to pieces. My utmost speed might notenable me to reach him where he sat, but merely to encounter hisassault. I did not reflect how far my strength was adequate to save me. All the force that remained was mustered up and exerted in a throw. 

No one knows the powers that are latent in his constitution. Calledforth by imminent dangers, our efforts frequently exceed our mostsanguine belief. Though tottering on the verge of dissolution, andapparently unable to crawl from this spot, a force was exerted in thisthrow, probably greater than I had ever before exerted. It wasresistless and unerring. I aimed at the middle space between thoseglowing orbs. It penetrated the skull, and the animal fell, strugglingand shrieking, on the ground. 

My ears quickly informed me when his pangs were at an end. His cries andhis convulsions lasted for a moment and then ceased. The effect of hisvoice, in these subterranean abodes, was unspeakably rueful. 

The abruptness of this incident, and the preternatural exertion of mystrength, left me in a state of languor and sinking, from which slowlyand with difficulty I recovered. The first suggestion that occurred wasto feed upon the carcass of this animal. My hunger had arrived at thatpitch where all fastidiousness and scruples are at an end. I crept tothe spot. I will not shock you by relating the extremes to which direnecessity had driven me. I review this scene with loathing and horror. Now that it is past I look back upon it as on some hideous dream. Thewhole appears to be some freak of insanity. No alternative was offered, and hunger was capable of being appeased even by a banquet sodetestable. 

If this appetite has sometimes subdued the sentiments of nature, andcompelled the mother to feed upon the flesh of her offspring, it willnot excite amazement that I did not turn from the yet warm blood andreeking fibres of a brute. 

One evil was now removed, only to give place to another. The firstsensations of fullness had scarcely been felt when my stomach was seizedby pangs, whose acuteness exceeded all that I ever before experienced. Ibitterly lamented my inordinate avidity. The excruciations of faminewere better than the agonies which this abhorred meal had produced. 

Death was now impending with no less proximity and certainty, though ina different form. Death was a sweet relief for my present miseries, andI vehemently longed for its arrival. I stretched myself on the ground. Ithrew myself into every posture that promised some alleviation of thisevil. I rolled along the pavement of the cavern, wholly inattentive tothe dangers that environed me. That I did not fall into the pit whence Ihad just emerged must be ascribed to some miraculous chance. 

How long my miseries endured, it is not possible to tell. I cannot evenform a plausible conjecture. Judging by the lingering train of mysensations, I should conjecture that some days elapsed in thisdeplorable condition; but nature could riot have so long sustained aconflict like this. 

Gradually my pains subsided, and I fell into a deep sleep. I was visitedby dreams of a thousand hues. They led me to flowing streams andplenteous banquets, which, though placed within my view, some powerforbade me to approach. From this sleep I recovered to the fruition ofsolitude and darkness, but my frame was in a state less feeble thanbefore That which I had eaten had produced temporary distress, but onthe whole had been of use. If this food had not been provided for me Ishould scarcely have avoided death. I had reason, therefore, tocongratulate myself on the danger that had lately occurred. 

I had acted without foresight, and yet no wisdom could have prescribedmore salutary measures. The panther was slain, not from a view to therelief of my hunger, but from the self-preserving and involuntaryimpulse. Had I foreknown the pangs to which my ravenous and bloody mealwould give birth, I should have carefully abstained; and yet these pangswere a useful effort of nature to subdue and convert to nourishment thematter I had swallowed. 

I was now assailed by the torments of thirst. My invention and mycourage were anew bent to obviate this pressing evil. I reflected thatthere was some recess from this cavern, even from the spot where I nowstood. Before, I was doubtful whether in this direction from this pitany avenue could be found; but, since the panther had come hither, therewas reason to suppose the existence of some such avenue. 

I now likewise attended to a sound, which, from its invariable tenor, denoted somewhat different from the whistling of a gale. It seemed likethe murmur of a running stream. I now prepared to go forward andendeavour to move along in that direction in which this sound apparentlycame. 

On either side, and above my head, there was nothing but vacuity. Mysteps were to be guided by the pavement, which, though unequal andrugged, appeared, on the whole, to ascend. My safety required that Ishould employ both hands and feet in exploring my way. 

I went on thus for a considerable period. The murmur, instead ofbecoming more distinct, gradually died away. My progress was arrested byfatigue, and I began once more to despond. My exertions produced aperspiration, which, while it augmented my thirst, happily supplied mewith imperfect means of appeasing it. 

This expedient would, perhaps, have been accidentally suggested; but myingenuity was assisted by remembering the history of certain Englishprisoners in Bengal, whom their merciless enemy imprisoned in a smallroom, and some of whom preserved themselves alive merely by swallowingthe moisture that flowed from their bodies. This experiment I nowperformed with no less success. 

This was slender arid transitory consolation. I knew that, wandering atrandom, I might never reach the outlet of this cavern, or might bedisabled, by hunger and fatigue, from going farther than the outlet. Thecravings which had lately been satiated would speedily return, and mynegligence had cut me off from the resource which had recently beenfurnished. I thought not till now that a second meal might beindispensable. 

To return upon my footsteps to the spot where the dead animal lay was aheartless project. I might thus be placing myself at a hopeless distancefrom liberty. Besides, my track could not be retraced. I had frequentlydeviated from a straight direction for the sake of avoiding impediments. All of which I was sensible was, that I was travelling up an irregularacclivity. I hoped some time to reach the summit, but had no reason foradhering to one line of ascent in preference to another. 

To remain where I was was manifestly absurd. Whether I mounted ordescended, a change of place was most likely to benefit me. I resolvedto vary my direction, and, instead of ascending, keep along the side ofwhat I accounted a hill. I had gone some hundred feet when the murmur, before described, once more saluted my ear. 

This sound, being imagined to proceed from a running stream, could notbut light up joy in the heart of one nearly perishing with thirst. Iproceeded with new courage. The sound approached no nearer, nor becamemore distinct; but, as long as it died not away, I was satisfied tolisten and to hope. 

I was eagerly observant if any the least glimmering of light shouldvisit this recess. At length, on the right hand, a gleam, infinitelyfaint, caught my attention. It was wavering and unequal. I directed mysteps towards it. It became more vivid and permanent. It was of thatkind, however, which proceeded from a fire, kindled with dry sticks, andnot from the sun. I now heard the crackling of flames. 

This sound made me pause, or, at least, to proceed with circumspection. At length the scene opened, and I found myself at the entrance of acave. I quickly reached a station, when I saw a fire burning. At firstno other object was noted, but it was easy to infer that the fire waskindled by men, and that they who kindled it could be at no greatdistance. 

Chapter XVII. 

Thus was I delivered from my prison, and restored to the enjoyment ofthe air and the light. Perhaps the chance was almost miraculous that ledme to this opening. In any other direction, I might have involved myselfin an inextricable maze and rendered my destruction sure; but what nowremained to place me in absolute security? Beyond the fire I could seenothing; but, since the smoke rolled rapidly away, it was plain that onthe opposite side the cavern was open to the air. 

I went forward, but my eyes were fixed upon the fire: presently, inconsequence of changing my station, I perceived several feet, and theskirts of blankets. I was somewhat startled at these appearances. Thelegs were naked, and scored into uncouth figures. The _moccasins_which lay beside them, and which were adorned in a grotesque manner, inaddition to other incidents, immediately suggested the suspicion thatthey were Indians. No spectacle was more adapted than this to excitewonder and alarm. Had some mysterious power snatched me from the earth, and cast me, in a moment, into the heart of the wilderness? Was I stillin the vicinity of my parental habitation, or was I thousands of milesdistant?

Were these the permanent inhabitants of this region, or were theywanderers and robbers? While in the heart of the mountain, I hadentertained a vague belief that I was still within the precincts ofNorwalk. This opinion was shaken for a moment by the objects which I nowbeheld, but it insensibly returned: yet how was this opinion to bereconciled to appearances so strange and uncouth, and what measure did adue regard to my safety enjoin me to take?

I now gained a view of four brawny and terrific figures, stretched uponthe ground. They lay parallel to each other, on their left sides; inconsequence of which their faces were turned from me. Between each wasan interval where lay a musket. Their right hands seemed placed upon thestocks of their guns, as if to seize them on the first moment of alarm. 

The aperture through which these objects were seen was at the back ofthe cave, and some feet from the ground. It was merely large enough tosuffer a human body to pass. It was involved in profound darkness, andthere was no danger of being suspected or discovered as long as Imaintained silence and kept out of view. 

It was easily imagined that these guests would make but a short sojournin this spot. There was reason to suppose that it was now night, andthat, after a short repose, they would start up and resume theirjourney. It was my first design to remain shrouded in this covert tilltheir departure, and I prepared to endure imprisonment and thirstsomewhat longer. 

Meanwhile my thoughts were busy in accounting for this spectacle. I neednot tell thee that Norwalk is the termination of a sterile and narrowtract which begins in the Indian country. It forms a sort of rugged androcky vein, and continues upwards of fifty miles. It is crossed in a fewplaces by narrow and intricate paths, by which a communication ismaintained between the farms and settlements on the opposite sides ofthe ridge. 

During former Indian wars, this rude surface was sometimes traversed bythe red men, and they made, by means of it, frequent and destructiveinroads into the heart of the English settlements. During the last war, notwithstanding the progress of population, and the multiplied perils ofsuch an expedition, a band of them had once penetrated into Norwalk, andlingered long enough to pillage and murder some of the neighbouringinhabitants. 

I have reason to remember that event. My father's house was placed onthe verge of this solitude. Eight of these assassins assailed it at thedead of night. My parents and an infant child were murdered in theirbeds; the house was pillaged, and then burnt to the ground. Happily, myself and my two sisters were abroad upon a visit. The preceding dayhad been fixed for our return to our father's house; but a stormoccurred, which made it dangerous to cross the river, and, by obligingus to defer our journey, rescued us from captivity or death. 

Most men are haunted by some species of terror or antipathy, which theyare, for the most part, able to trace to some incident which befell themin their early years. You will not be surprised that the fate of myparents, and the sight of the body of one of this savage band, who, inthe pursuit that was made after them, was overtaken and killed, shouldproduce lasting and terrific images in my fancy. I never looked upon orcalled up the image of a savage without shuddering. 

I knew that, at this time, some hostilities had been committed on thefrontier; that a long course of injuries and encroachments had latelyexasperated the Indian tribes; that an implacable and exterminating warwas generally expected. We imagined ourselves at an inaccessibledistance from the danger; but I could not but remember that thispersuasion was formerly as strong as at present, and that an expeditionwhich had once succeeded might possibly be attempted again. Here wasevery token of enmity and bloodshed. Each prostrate figure was furnishedwith a rifled musket, and a leathern bag tied round his waist, whichwas, probably, stored with powder and ball. 

From these reflections, the sense of my own danger was revived andenforced; but I likewise ruminated on the evils which might impend overothers. I should, no doubt, be safe by remaining in this nook; but mightnot some means be pursued to warn others of their danger? Should theyleave this spot without notice of their approach being given to thefearless and pacific tenants of the neighbouring district, they mightcommit, in a few hours, the most horrid and irreparable devastation. 

The alarm could only be diffused in one way. Could I not escape, unperceived, and without alarming the sleepers, from this cavern? Theslumber of an Indian is broken by the slightest noise; but, if all noisebe precluded, it is commonly profound. It was possible, I conceived, toleave my present post, to descend into the cave, and issue forth withoutthe smallest signal. Their supine posture assured me that they wereasleep. Sleep usually comes at their bidding, and if, perchance, theyshould be wakeful at an unseasonable moment, they always sit upon theirhaunches, and, leaning their elbows on their knees, consume the tedioushours in smoking. My peril would be great. Accidents which I could notforesee, and over which I had no command, might occur to awaken some oneat the moment I was passing the fire. Should I pass in safety, I mightissue forth into a wilderness, of which I had no knowledge, where Imight wander till I perished with famine, or where my footsteps might benoted and pursued and overtaken by these implacable foes. These perilswere enormous and imminent; but I likewise considered that I might be atno great distance from the habitations of men, and that my escape mightrescue them from the most dreadful calamities. I determined to make thisdangerous experiment without delay. 

I came nearer to the aperture, and had, consequently, a larger view ofthis recess. To my unspeakable dismay, I now caught a glimpse of oneseated at the fire. His back was turned towards me, so that I coulddistinctly survey his gigantic form and fantastic ornaments. 

My project was frustrated. This one was probably commissioned to watchand to awaken his companions when a due portion of sleep had been taken. That he would not be unfaithful or remiss in the performance of the partassigned to him was easily predicted. To pass him without exciting hisnotice (and the entrance could not otherwise be reached) was impossible. Once more I shrunk back, and revolved with hopelessness and anguish thenecessity to which I was reduced. 

This interval of dreary foreboding did not last long. Some motion in himthat was seated by the fire attracted my notice. I looked, and beheldhim rise from his place and go forth from the cavern. This unexpectedincident led my thoughts into a new channel. Could not some advantage betaken of his absence? Could not this opportunity be seized for making myescape? He had left his gun and hatchet on the ground. It was likely, therefore, that he had not gone far, and would speedily return. Mightnot these weapons be seized, and some provision be thus made against thedanger of meeting him without, or of being pursued?

Before a resolution could be formed, a new sound saluted my ear. It wasa deep groan, succeeded by sobs that seemed struggling for utterance butwere vehemently counteracted by the sufferer. This low and bitterlamentation apparently proceeded from some one within the cave. It couldnot be from one of this swarthy band. It must, then, proceed from acaptive, whom they had reserved for torment or servitude, and who hadseized the opportunity afforded by the absence of him that watched togive vent to his despair. 

I again thrust my head forward, and beheld, lying on the ground, apartfrom the rest, and bound hand and foot, a young girl. Her dress was thecoarse russet garb of the country, and bespoke her to be some farmer'sdaughter. Her features denoted the last degree of fear and anguish, andshe moved her limbs in such a manner as showed that the ligatures bywhich she was confined produced, by their tightness, the utmost degreeof pain. 

My wishes were now bent not only to preserve myself and to frustrate thefuture attempts of these savages, but likewise to relieve this miserablevictim. This could only be done by escaping from the cavern andreturning with seasonable aid. The sobs of the girl were likely to rousethe sleepers. My appearance before her would prompt her to testify hersurprise by some exclamation or shriek. What could hence be predictedbut that the band would start on their feet and level their unerringpieces at my head?

I know not why I was insensible to these dangers. My thirst was renderedby these delays intolerable. It took from me, in some degree, the powerof deliberation. The murmurs which had drawn me hither continued stillto be heard. Some torrent or cascade could not be far distant from theentrance of the cavern, and it seemed as if one draught of clear waterwas a luxury cheaply purchased by death itself. This, in addition toconsiderations more disinterested, and which I have already mentioned, impelled me forward. 

The girl's cheek rested on the hard rock, and her eyes were dim withtears. As they were turned towards me, however, I hoped that mymovements would be noticed by her gradually and without abruptness. Thisexpectation was fulfilled. I had not advanced many steps before shediscovered me. This moment was critical beyond all others in the courseof my existence. My life was suspended, as it were, by a spider'sthread. All rested on the effect which this discovery should make uponthis feeble victim. 

I was watchful of the first movement of her eye which should indicate aconsciousness of my presence. I laboured, by gestures and looks, todeter her from betraying her emotion. My attention was, at the sametime, fixed upon the sleepers, and an anxious glance was cast towardsthe quarter whence the watchful savage might appear. 

I stooped and seized the musket and hatchet. The space beyond the firewas, as I expected, open to the air. I issued forth with tremblingsteps. The sensations inspired by the dangers which environed me, addedto my recent horrors, and the influence of the moon, which had nowgained the zenith, and whose lustre dazzled my long-benighted senses, cannot be adequately described. 

For a minute, I was unable to distinguish objects. This confusion wasspeedily corrected, and I found myself on the verge of a steep. Craggyeminences arose on all sides. On the left hand was a space that offeredsome footing, and hither I turned. A torrent was below me, and this pathappeared to lead to it. It quickly appeared in sight, and all foreigncares were, for a time, suspended. 

This water fell from the upper regions of the hill, upon a flatprojecture which was continued on either side, and on part of which Iwas now standing. The path was bounded on the left by an inaccessiblewall, and on the right terminated, at the distance of two or three feetfrom the wall, in a precipice. The water was eight or ten paces distant, and no impediment seemed likely to rise between us. I rushed forwardwith speed. 

My progress was quickly checked. Close to the falling water, seated onthe edge, his back supported by the rock, and his legs hanging over theprecipice, I now beheld the savage who left the cave before me. Thenoise of the cascade and the improbability of interruption, at leastfrom this quarter, had made him inattentive to my motions. 

I paused. Along this verge lay the only road by which I could reach thewater, and by which I could escape. The passage was completely occupiedby this antagonist. To advance towards him, or to remain where I was, would produce the same effect. I should, in either case, be detected. Hewas unarmed; but his outcries would instantly summon his companions tohis aid. I could not hope to overpower him, and pass him in defiance ofhis opposition. But, if this were effected, pursuit would be instantlycommenced. I was unacquainted with the way. The way was unquestionablydifficult. My strength was nearly annihilated; I should be overtaken ina moment, or their deficiency in speed would be supplied by the accuracyof their aim. Their bullets, at least, would reach me. 

There was one method of removing this impediment. The piece which I heldin my hand was cocked. There could be no doubt that it was loaded. Aprecaution of this kind would never be omitted by a warrior of this hue. At a greater distance than this, I should not fear to reach the mark. Should I not discharge it, and, at the same moment, rush forward tosecure the road which my adversary's death would open to me?

Perhaps you will conceive a purpose like this to have argued asanguinary and murderous disposition. Let it be remembered, however, that I entertained no doubts about the hostile designs of these men. This was sufficiently indicated by their arms, their guise, and thecaptive who attended them. Let the fate of my parents be, likewise, remembered. I was not certain but that these very men were the assassinsof my family, and were those who had reduced me and my sisters to thecondition of orphans and dependants. No words can describe the tormentsof my thirst. Relief to these torments, and safety to my life, werewithin view. How could I hesitate?

Yet I did hesitate. My aversion to bloodshed was not to be subdued butby the direst necessity. I knew, indeed, that the discharge of a musketwould only alarm the enemies who remained behind; but I had another anda better weapon in my grasp. I could rive the head of my adversary, andcast him headlong, without any noise which should be heard, into thecavern. 

Still I was willing to withdraw, to re-enter the cave, and take shelterin the darksome recesses from which I had emerged. Here I might remain, unsuspected, till these detested guests should depart. The hazardsattending my re-entrance were to be boldly encountered, and the tormentsof unsatisfied thirst were to be patiently endured, rather than imbruemy hands in the blood of my fellowmen. But this expedient would beineffectual if my retreat should be observed by this savage. Of that Iwas bound to be incontestably assured. I retreated, therefore, but keptmy eye fixed at the same time upon the enemy. 

Some ill fate decreed that I should not retreat unobserved. Scarcely hadI withdrawn three paces when he started from his seat, and, turningtowards me, walked with a quick pace. The shadow of the rock, and theimprobability of meeting an enemy here, concealed me for a moment fromhis observation. I stood still. The slightest motion would haveattracted his notice. At present, the narrow space engaged all hisvigilance. Cautious footsteps, and attention to the path, wereindispensable to his safety. The respite was momentary, and I employedit in my own defence. 

How otherwise could I act? The danger that impended aimed at nothingless than my life. To take the life of another was the only method ofaverting it. The means were in my hand, and they were used. In anextremity like this, my muscles would have acted almost in defiance ofmy will. 

The stroke was quick as lightning, and the wound mortal and deep. He hadnot time to descry the author of his fate, but, sinking on the path, expired without a groan. The hatchet buried itself in his breast, androlled with him to the bottom of the precipice. 

Never before had I taken the life of a human creature. On this head Ihad, indeed, entertained somewhat of religious scruples. These scruplesdid not forbid me to defend myself, but they made me cautious andreluctant to decide. Though they could not withhold my hand when urgedby a necessity like this, they were sufficient to make me look back uponthe deed with remorse and dismay. 

I did not escape all compunction in the present instance, but the tumultof my feelings was quickly allayed. To quench my thirst was aconsideration by which all others were supplanted. I approached thetorrent, and not only drank copiously, but laved my head, neck, andarms, in this delicious element. 

Chapter XVIII. 

Never was any delight worthy of comparison with the raptures which Ithen experienced. Life, that was rapidly ebbing, appeared to return uponme with redoubled violence. My languors, my excruciating heat, vanishedin a moment, and I felt prepared to undergo the labours of Hercules. Having fully supplied the demands of nature in this respect, I returnedto reflection on the circumstances of my situation. The path windinground the hill was now free from all impediments. What remained but toprecipitate my flight? I might speedily place myself beyond all danger. I might gain some hospitable shelter, where my fatigues might berepaired by repose, and my wounds be cured. I might likewise impart tomy protectors seasonable information of the enemies who meditated theirdestruction. 

I thought upon the condition of the hapless girl whom I had left in thepower of the savages. Was it impossible to rescue her? Might I notrelieve her from her bonds, and make her the companion of my flight? Theexploit was perilous, but not impracticable. There was somethingdastardly and ignominious in withdrawing from the danger, and leaving ahelpless being exposed to it. A single minute might suffice to snatchher from death or captivity. The parents might deserve that I shouldhazard or even sacrifice my life in the cause of their child. 

After some fluctuation, I determined to return to the cavern and attemptthe rescue of the girl. The success of this project depended on thecontinuance of their sleep. It was proper to approach with wariness, andto heed the smallest token which might bespeak their condition. I creptalong the path, bending my ear forward to catch any sound that mightarise. I heard nothing but the half-stifled sobs of the girl. 

I entered with the slowest and most anxious circumspection. Every thingwas found in its pristine state. The girl noticed my entrance with amixture of terror and joy. My gestures and looks enjoined upon hersilence. I stooped down, and, taking another hatchet, cut asunder thedeer-skin thongs by which her wrists and ankles were tied. I then madesigns for her to rise and follow me. She willingly complied with mydirections; but her benumbed joints and lacerated sinews refused tosupport her. There was no time to be lost; I therefore lifted her in myarms, and, feeble and tottering as I was, proceeded with this burdenalong the perilous steep and over a most rugged-path. 

I hoped that some exertion would enable her to retrieve the use of herlimbs. I set her, therefore, on her feet, exhorting her to walk as wellas she was able, and promising her my occasional assistance. The poorgirl was not deficient in zeal, and presently moved along with light andquick steps. We speedily reached the bottom of the hill. 

No fancy can conceive a scene more wild and desolate than that which nowpresented itself. The soil was nearly covered with sharp fragments ofstone. Between these, sprung brambles and creeping vines, whose twigs, crossing and intertwining with each other, added to the roughness below, made the passage infinitely toilsome. Scattered over this space weresingle cedars with their ragged spines and wreaths of moss, and copsesof dwarf oaks, which were only new emblems of sterility. 

I was wholly unacquainted with the scene before me. No marks ofhabitation or culture, no traces of the footsteps of men, werediscernible. I scarcely knew in what region of the globe I was placed. Ihad come hither by means so inexplicable as to leave it equally in doubtwhether I was separated from my paternal abode by a river or an ocean. 

I made inquiries of my companion, but she was unable to talk coherently. She answered my questions with weeping, and sobs, and entreaties to flyfrom the scene of her distress. I collected from her, at length, thather father's house had been attacked on the preceding evening, and allthe family but herself destroyed. Since this disaster she had walkedvery fast and a great way, but knew not how far or in what direction. 

In a wilderness like this, my only hope was to light upon obscure paths, made by cattle. Meanwhile I endeavoured to adhere to one line, and toburst through the vexatious obstacles which encumbered our way. Theground was concealed by the bushes, and we were perplexed and fatiguedby a continual succession of hollows and prominences. At one moment wewere nearly thrown headlong into a pit. At another we struck our feetagainst the angles of stones. The branches of the oak rebounded in ourfaces or entangled our legs, and the unseen thorns inflicted on us athousand wounds. 

I was obliged, in these arduous circumstances, to support not onlymyself, but my companion. Her strength was overpowered by her eveningjourney, and the terror of being overtaken incessantly harassed her. 

Sometimes we lighted upon tracks which afforded us an easier footing andinspired us with courage to proceed. These, for a time, terminated at abrook or in a bog, and we were once more compelled to go forward atrandom. One of these tracks insensibly became more beaten, and, atlength, exhibited the traces of wheels. To this I adhered, confidentthat it would finally conduct us to a dwelling. 

On either side, the undergrowth of shrubs and brambles continued asbefore. Sometimes small spaces were observed, which had lately beencleared by fire. At length a vacant space, of larger dimensions than hadhitherto occurred, presented itself to my view. It was a field of someacres, that had, apparently, been upturned by the hoe. At the corner ofthis field was a small house. 

My heart leaped with joy at this sight. I hastened towards it, in thehope that my uncertainties, and toils, and dangers, were now drawing toa close. This dwelling was suited to the poverty and desolation whichsurrounded it. It consisted of a few unhewn logs laid upon each other, to the height of eight or ten feet, including a quadrangular space ofsimilar dimensions, and covered by a thatch. There was no window, lightbeing sufficiently admitted into the crevices between the logs. Thesehad formerly been loosely plastered with clay; but air and rain hadcrumbled and washed the greater part of this rude cement away. Somewhatlike a chimney, built of half-burnt bricks, was perceived at one corner. The door was fastened by a leathern thong, tied to a peg. 

All within was silence and darkness. I knocked at the door and called, but no one moved or answered. The tenant, whoever he was, was absent. His leave could not be obtained, and I, therefore, entered without it. The autumn had made some progress, and the air was frosty and sharp. Mymind and muscles had been of late so strenuously occupied, that the coldhad not been felt. The cessation of exercise, however, quickly restoredmy sensibility in this respect, but the unhappy girl complained of beinghalf frozen. 

Fire, therefore, was the first object of my search. Happily, some emberswere found upon the hearth, together with potato-stalks and dry chips. Of these, with much difficulty, I kindled a fire, by which some warmthwas imparted to our shivering limbs. The light enabled me, as I sat uponthe ground, to survey the interior of this mansion. Three saplings, stripped of their branches and bound together at their ends by twigs, formed a kind of bedstead, which was raised from the ground by fourstones. Ropes stretched across these, and covered by a blanket, constituted the bed. A board, of which one end rested on the bedsteadand the other was thrust between the logs that composed the wall, sustained the stale fragments of a rye-loaf, and a cedar bucket keptentire by withes instead of hoops. In the bucket was a little water, full of droppings from the roof, drowned insects, and sand. A basket ortwo neatly made, and a hoe, with a stake thrust into it by way ofhandle, made up all the furniture that was visible. 

Next to cold, hunger was the most urgent necessity by which we were nowpressed. This was no time to give ear to scruples. We, therefore, unceremoniously divided the bread and water between us. I had nowleisure to bestow some regards upon the future. 

These remnants of fire and food convinced me that this dwelling wasusually inhabited, and that it had lately been deserted. Some engagementhad probably carried the tenant abroad. His absence might be terminatedin a few minutes, or might endure through the night. On his return, Iquestioned not my power to appease any indignation he might feel at theliberties which I had taken. I was willing to suppose him one who wouldreadily afford us all the information and succour that we needed. 

If he should not return till sunrise, I meant to resume my journey. Bythe comfortable meal we had made, and the repose of a few hours, weshould be considerably invigorated and refreshed, and the road wouldlead us to some more hospitable tenement. 

My thoughts were too tumultuous, and my situation too precarious, toallow me to sleep. The girl, on the contrary, soon sank into a sweetoblivion of all her cares. She laid herself, by my advice, upon the bed, and left me to ruminate without interruption. 

I was not wholly free from the apprehension of danger. What influencethis boisterous and solitary life might have upon the temper of thebeing who inhabited this hut, I could not predict. How soon the Indiansmight awake, and what path they would pursue, I was equally unable toguess. It was by no means impossible that they might tread upon myfootsteps, and knock, in a few minutes, at the door of this cottage. Itbehooved me to make all the preparations in my power against untowardincidents. 

I had not parted with the gun which I had first seized in the cavern, nor with the hatchet which I had afterwards used to cut the bands of thegirl. These were at once my trophies and my means of defence, which ithad been rash and absurd to have relinquished. My present reliance wasplaced upon these. 

I now, for the first time, examined the prize that I had made. Otherconsiderations had prevented me, till now, from examining the structureof the piece; but I could not but observe that it had two barrels, andwas lighter and smaller than an ordinary musket. The light of the firenow enabled me to inspect it with more accuracy. 

Scarcely had I fixed my eyes upon the stock, when I perceived marks thatwere familiar to my apprehension. Shape, ornaments, and ciphers, wereevidently the same with those of a piece which I had frequently handled. The marks were of a kind which could not be mistaken. This piece wasmine; and, when I left my uncle's house, it was deposited, as Ibelieved, in the closet of my chamber. 

Thou wilt easily conceive the inference which this circumstancesuggested. My hairs rose and my teeth chattered with horror. My wholeframe was petrified, and I paced to and fro, hurried from the chimney tothe door, and from the door to the chimney, with the misguided fury of amaniac. 

I needed no proof of my calamity more incontestable than this. My uncleand my sisters had been murdered; the dwelling had been pillaged, andthis had been a part of the plunder. Defenceless and asleep, they wereassailed by these inexorable enemies, and I, who ought to have beentheir protector and champion, was removed to an immeasurable distance, and was disabled, by some accursed chance, from affording them thesuccour which they needed. 

For a time, I doubted whether I had not witnessed and shared thiscatastrophe. I had no memory of the circumstances that preceded myawaking in the pit. Had not the cause of my being cast into this abysssome connection with the ruin of my family? Had I not been draggedhither by these savages and reduced, by their malice, to that breathlessand insensible condition? Was I born to a malignant destiny never tiredof persecuting? Thus had my parents and their infant offspring perished, and thus completed was the fate of all those to whom my affectionscleaved, and whom the first disaster had spared. 

Hitherto the death of the savage, whom I had dispatched with my hatchet, had not been remembered without some remorse. Now my emotions weretotally changed. I was somewhat comforted in thinking that thus much ofnecessary vengeance had been executed. New and more vehement regretswere excited by reflecting on the forbearance I had practised when somuch was in my power. All the miscreants had been at my mercy, and abloody retribution might, with safety and ease, have been inflicted ontheir prostrate bodies. 

It was now too late. What of consolation or of hope remained to me? Toreturn to my ancient dwelling, now polluted with blood, or, perhaps, nothing but a smoking ruin, was abhorred. Life, connected with theremembrance of my misfortunes, was detestable. I was no longer anxiousfor flight. No change of the scene but that which terminated allconsciousness could I endure to think of. 

Amidst these gloomy meditations the idea was suddenly suggested ofreturning, with the utmost expedition, to the cavern. It was possiblethat the assassins were still asleep. He who was appointed to watch, andto make, in due season, the signal for resuming their march, was foreversilent. Without this signal it was not unlikely that they would sleeptill dawn of day. But, if they should be roused, they might be overtakenor met, and, by choosing a proper station, two victims might at leastfall. The ultimate event to myself would surely be fatal; but my owndeath was an object of desire rather than of dread. To die thusspeedily, and after some atonement was made for those who had alreadybeen slain, was sweet. 

The way to the mountain was difficult and tedious, but the ridge wasdistinctly seen from the door of the cottage, and I trusted thatauspicious chance would lead me to that part of it where my prey was tobe found. I snatched up the gun and tomahawk in a transport ofeagerness. On examining the former, I found that both barrels weredeeply loaded. 

This piece was of extraordinary workmanship. It was the legacy of anEnglish officer, who died in Bengal, to Sarsefield. It was constructedfor the purposes not of sport but of war. The artist had made it acongeries of tubes and springs, by which every purpose of protection andoffence was effectually served. A dagger's blade was attached to it, capable of being fixed at the end, and of answering the destructivepurpose of a bayonet. On his departure from Solesbury, my friend leftit, as a pledge of his affection, in my possession. Hitherto I hadchiefly employed it in shooting at a mark, in order to improve my sight;now was I to profit by the gift in a different way. 

Thus armed, I prepared to sally forth on my adventurous expedition. Sober views might have speedily succeeded to the present tempest of mypassions. I might have gradually discovered the romantic and criminaltemerity of my project, the folly of revenge, and the duty of preservingmy life for the benefit of mankind. I might have suspected the proprietyof my conclusion, and have admitted some doubts as to the catastrophewhich I imagined to have befallen my uncle and sisters. I might, atleast, have consented to ascertain their condition with my own eyes, andfor this end have returned to the cottage, and have patiently waitedtill the morning light should permit me to resume my journey. 

This conduct was precluded by a new incident. Before I opened the door Ilooked through a crevice of the wall, and perceived three human figuresat the farther end of the field. They approached the house. Thoughindistinctly seen, something in their port persuaded me that these werethe Indians from whom I had lately parted. I was startled but notdismayed. My thirst of vengeance was still powerful, and I believed thatthe moment of its gratification was hastening. In a short time theywould arrive and enter the house. In what manner should they bereceived?

I studied not my own security. It was the scope of my wishes to kill thewhole numoer of my foes; but, that being done, I was indifferent to theconsequences. I desired not to live to relate or to exult in the deed. 

To go forth was perilous and useless. All that remained was to sit uponthe ground opposite the door, and fire at each as he entered. In thehasty survey I had taken of this apartment, one object had beenoverlooked, or imperfectly noticed. Close to the chimney was anaperture, formed by a cavity partly in the wall and in the ground. Itwas the entrance of an oven, which resembled, on the outside, a mound ofearth, and which was filled with dry stalks of potatoes and otherrubbish. 

Into this it was possible to thrust my body. A sort of screen might beformed of the brushwood, and more deliberate and effectual execution bedone upon the enemy. I weighed not the disadvantages of this scheme, butprecipitately threw myself into this cavity. I discovered, in aninstant, that it was totally unfit for my purpose; but it was too lateto repair my miscarriage. 

This wall of the hovel was placed near the verge of a sand-bank. Theoven was erected on the very brink. This bank, being of a loose andmutable soil, could not sustain my weight. It sunk, and I sunk alongwith it. The height of the bank was three or four feet, so that, thoughdisconcerted and embarrassed, I received no injury. I still grasped mygun, and resumed my feet in a moment. 

What was now to be done? The bank screened me from the view of thesavages. The thicket was hard by, and, if I were eager to escape, theway was obvious and sure. But, though single, though enfeebled by toil, by abstinence, and by disease, and though so much exceeded in number andstrength by my foes, I was determined to await and provoke the contest. 

In addition to the desperate impulse of passion, I was swayed bythoughts of the danger which beset the sleeping girl, and from which myflight would leave her without protection. How strange is the destinythat governs mankind! The consequence of shrouding myself in this cavityhad not been foreseen. It was an expedient which courage and notcowardice suggested; and yet it was the only expedient by which flighthad been rendered practicable. To have issued from the door would onlyhave been to confront, and not to elude, the danger. 

The first impulse prompted me to re-enter the cottage by this avenue, but this could not be done with certainty and expedition. What thenremained? While I deliberated, the men approached, and, after a moment'shesitation, entered the house, the door being partly open. 

The fire on the hearth enabled them to survey the room. One of themuttered a sudden exclamation of surprise. This was easily interpreted. They had noticed the girl who had lately been their captive lying asleepon the blanket. Their astonishment at finding her here, and in thiscondition, may be easily conceived. 

I now reflected that I might place myself, without being observed, nearthe entrance, at an angle of the building, and shoot at each as hesuccessively came forth. I perceived that the bank conformed to twosides of the house, and that I might gain a view of the front and of theentrance, without exposing myself to observation. 

I lost no time in gaining this station. The bank was as high as mybreast. It was easy, therefore, to crouch beneath it, to bring my eyeclose to the verge, and, laying my gun upon the top of it among thegrass, with its muzzles pointed to the door, patiently to wait theirforthcoming. 

My eye and my ear were equally attentive to what was passing. A low andmuttering conversation was maintained in the house. Presently I heard aheavy stroke descend. I shuddered, and my blood ran cold at the sound. Ientertained no doubt but that it was the stroke of a hatchet on the heador breast of the helpless sleeper. 

It was followed by a loud shriek. The continuance of these shrieksproved that the stroke had not been instantly fatal. I waited to hear itrepeated, but the sounds that now arose were like those produced bydragging somewhat along the ground. The shrieks, meanwhile, wereincessant and piteous. My heart faltered, and I saw that mighty effortsmust be made to preserve my joints and my nerves steadfast. All dependedon the strenuous exertions and the fortunate dexterity of a moment. 

One now approached the door, and came forth, dragging the girl, whom heheld by the hair, after him. What hindered me from shooting at his firstappearance, I know not. This had been my previous resolution. My handtouched the trigger, and, as he moved, the piece was levelled at hisright ear. Perhaps the momentous consequences of my failure made me waittill his ceasing to move might render my aim more sure. 

Having dragged the girl, still piteously shrieking, to the distance often feet from the house, he threw her from him with violence. She fellupon the ground, and, observing him level his piece at her breast, renewed her supplications in a still more piercing tone. Little did theforlorn wretch think that her deliverance was certain and near. Irebuked myself for having thus long delayed. I fired, and my enemy sunkupon the ground without a struggle. 

Thus far had success attended me in this unequal contest. The next shotwould leave me nearly powerless. If that, however, proved as unerring asthe first, the chances of defeat were lessened. The savages within, knowing the intentions of their associate with regard to the captivegirl, would probably mistake the report which they heard for that of hispiece. Their mistake, however, would speedily give place to doubts, andthey would rush forth to ascertain the truth. It behooved me to providea similar reception for him that next appeared. 

It was as I expected. Scarcely was my eye again fixed upon the entrance, when a tawny and terrific visage was stretched fearfully forth. It wasthe signal of his fate. His glances, cast wildly and swiftly round, lighted upon me, and on the fatal instrument which was pointed at hisforehead. His muscles were at once exerted to withdraw his head, and tovociferate a warning to his fellow; but his movement was too slow. Theball entered above his ear. He tumbled headlong to the ground, bereavedof sensation though not of life, and had power only to struggle andmutter. 

Chapter XIX. 

Think not that I relate these things with exultation or tranquillity. All my education and the habits of my life tended to unfit me for acontest and a scene like this. But I was not governed by the soul whichusually regulates my conduct. I had imbibed, from the unparalleledevents which had lately happened, a spirit vengeful, unrelenting, andferocious. 

There was now an interval for flight. Throwing my weapons away, I mightgain the thicket in a moment. I had no ammunition, nor would time beafforded me to reload my piece. My antagonist would render my poniardand my speed of no use to me. Should he miss me as I fled, the girlwould remain to expiate, by her agonies and death, the fate of hiscompanions. 

These thoughts passed through my mind in a shorter time than is demandedto express them. They yielded to an expedient suggested by the sight ofthe gun that had been raised to destroy the girl, and which now lay uponthe ground. I am not large of bone, but am not deficient in agility andstrength. All that remained to me of these qualities was now exerted;and, dropping my own piece, I leaped upon the bank, and flew to seize myprize. 

It was not till I snatched it from the ground, that the propriety ofregaining my former post rushed upon my apprehension. He that was stillposted in the hovel would mark me through the seams of the wall, andrender my destruction sure. I once more ran towards the bank, with theintention to throw myself below it. All this was performed in aninstant; but my vigilant foe was aware of his advantage, and firedthrough an opening between the logs. The bullet grazed my cheek, andproduced a benumbing sensation that made me instantly fall to the earth. Though bereaved of strength, and fraught with the belief that I hadreceived a mortal wound, my caution was not remitted. I loosened not mygrasp of the gun, and the posture into which I accidentally fell enabledme to keep an eye upon the house and a hand upon the trigger. Perceivingmy condition, the savage rushed from his covert in order to complete hiswork; but at three steps from the threshold he received my bullet in hisbreast. The uplifted tomahawk fell from his hand, and, uttering a loudshriek, he fell upon the body of his companion. His cries struck upon myheart, and I wished that his better fortune had cast this evil from himupon me. 

Thus I have told thee a bloody and disastrous tale. When thou reflecteston the mildness of my habits, my antipathy to scenes of violence andbloodshed, my unacquaintance with the use of fire-arms and the motivesof a soldier, thou wilt scarcely allow credit to my story. That onerushing into these dangers, unfurnished with stratagems or weapons, disheartened and enfeebled by hardships and pain, should subdue fourantagonists trained from their infancy to the artifices and exertions ofIndian warfare, will seem the vision of fancy, rather than the lesson oftruth. 

I lifted my head from the ground and pondered upon this scene. Themagnitude of this exploit made me question its reality. By attending tomy own sensations, I discovered that I had received no wound, or, atleast, none of which there was reason to complain. The blood flowedplentifully from my cheek, but the injury was superficial. It wasotherwise with my antagonists. The last that had fallen now ceased togroan. Their huge limbs, inured to combat and _war-worn_, were uselessto their own defence, and to the injury of others. 

The destruction that I witnessed was vast. Three beings, full of energyand heroism, endowed with minds strenuous and lofty, poured out theirlives before me. I was the instrument of their destruction. This sceneof carnage and blood was laid by me. To this havoc and horror was I ledby such rapid footsteps!

My anguish was mingled with astonishment. In spite of the force anduniformity with which my senses were impressed by external objects, thetransition I had undergone was so wild and inexplicable; all that I hadperformed, all that I had witnessed since my egress from the pit, wereso contradictory to precedent events, that I still clung to the beliefthat my thoughts were confused by delirium. From these reveries I was atlength recalled by the groans of the girl, who lay near me on theground. 

I went to her and endeavoured to console her. I found that, while lyingin the bed, she had received a blow upon the side, which was stillproductive of acute pain. She was unable to rise or to walk, and it wasplain that one or more of her ribs had been fractured by the blow. 

I knew not what means to devise for our mutual relief. It was possiblethat the nearest dwelling was many leagues distant. I knew not in whatdirection to go in order to find it, and my strength would not sufficeto carry my wounded companion thither in my arms. There was no expedientbut to remain in this field of blood till the morning. 

I had scarcely formed this resolution before the report of a musket washeard at a small distance. At the same moment, I distinctly heard thewhistling of a bullet near me. I now remembered that, of the fiveIndians whom I saw in the cavern, I was acquainted with the destiny onlyof four. The fifth might be still alive, and fortune might reserve forhim the task of avenging his companions. His steps might now be tendinghither in search of them. 

The musket belonging to him who was shot upon the threshold was stillcharged. It was discreet to make all the provision in my power againstdanger. I possessed myself of this gun, and, seating myself on theground, looked carefully on all sides, to descry the approach of theenemy. I listened with breathless eagerness. 

Presently voices were heard. They ascended from that part of the thicketfrom which my view was intercepted by the cottage. These voices hadsomething in them that bespoke them to belong to friends and countrymen. As yet I was unable to distinguish words. 

Presently my eye was attracted to one quarter, by a sound as of feettrampling down bushes. Several heads were seen moving in succession, andat length the whole person was conspicuous. One after another leapedover a kind of mound which bordered the field, and made towards the spotwhere I sat. This band was composed of ten or twelve persons, with eacha gun upon his shoulder. Their guise, the moment it was perceived, dissipated all my apprehensions. 

They came within the distance of a few paces before they discovered me. One stopped, and, bespeaking the attention of his followers, called toknow who was there. I answered that I was a friend, who entreated theirassistance. I shall not paint their astonishment when, on coming nearer, they beheld me surrounded by the arms and dead bodies of my enemies. 

I sat upon the ground, supporting my head with my left hand, and restingon my knee the stock of a heavy musket. My countenance was wan andhaggard, my neck and bosom were dyed in blood, and my limbs, almoststripped by the brambles of their slender covering, were lacerated by athousand wounds. Three savages, two of whom were steeped in gore, lay ata small distance, with the traces of recent life on their visages. Hardby was the girl, venting her anguish in the deepest groans, andentreating relief from the new-comers. 

One of the company, on approaching the girl, betrayed the utmostperturbation. "Good God!" he cried, "is this a dream? Can it be you?Speak!"

"Ah, my father! my father!" answered she, "it is I indeed. "

The company, attracted by this dialogue, crowded round the girl, whomher father, clasping in his arms, lifted from the ground, and pressed, in a transport of joy, to his breast. This delight was succeeded bysolicitude respecting her condition. She could only answer his inquiriesby complaining that her side was bruised to pieces. "How came youhere?"--"Who hurt you?"--"Where did the Indians carry you?"--werequestions to which she could make no reply but by sobs and plaints. 

My own calamities were forgotten in contemplating the fondness andcompassion of the man for his child. I derived new joy from reflectingthat I had not abandoned her, and that she owed her preservation to myefforts. The inquiries which the girl was unable to answer were now putto me. Every one interrogated me who I was, whence I had come, and whathad given rise to this bloody contest. 

I was not willing to expatiate on my story. The spirit which hadhitherto sustained me began now to subside. My strength ebbed away withmy blood. Tremors, lassitude, and deadly cold, invaded me, and I faintedon the ground. 

Such is the capricious constitution of the human mind. While dangerswere at hand, while my life was to be preserved only by zeal, andvigilance, and courage, I was not wanting to myself. Had my perilscontinued, or even multiplied, no doubt my energies would have keptequal pace with them; but the moment that I was encompassed byprotectors, and placed in security, I grew powerless and faint. Myweakness was proportioned to the duration and intensity of my previousefforts, and the swoon into which I now sunk was, no doubt, mistaken bythe spectators for death. 

On recovering from this swoon, my sensations were not unlike those whichI had experienced on awaking in the pit. For a moment a mistinessinvolved every object, and I was able to distinguish nothing. My sight, by rapid degrees, was restored, my painful dizziness was banished, and Isurveyed the scene before me with anxiety and wonder. 

I found myself stretched upon the ground. I perceived the cottage andthe neighbouring thicket, illuminated by a declining moon. My headrested upon something, which, on turning to examine, I found to be oneof the slain Indians. The other two remained upon the earth, at a smalldistance, and in the attitudes in which they had fallen. Their arms, thewounded girl, and the troop who were near me when I fainted, were gone. 

My head had reposed upon the breast of him whom I had shot in this partof his body. The blood had ceased to ooze from the wound, but mydishevelled locks were matted and steeped in that gore which hadoverflowed and choked up the orifice. I started from this detestablepillow, and regained my feet. 

I did not suddenly recall what had lately passed, or comprehend thenature of my situation. At length, however, late events wererecollected. 

That I should be abandoned in this forlorn state by these men seemed toargue a degree of cowardice or cruelty of which I should have thoughtthem incapable. Presently, however, I reflected that appearances mighthave easily misled them into a belief of my death. On this supposition, to have carried me away, or to have stayed beside me, would be useless. Other enemies might be abroad; or their families, now that their fearswere somewhat tranquillized, might require their presence andprotection. 

I went into the cottage. The fire still burned, and afforded me a genialwarmth. I sat before it, and began to ruminate on the state to which Iwas reduced, and on the measures I should next pursue. Daylight couldnot be very distant. Should I remain in this hovel till the morning, orimmediately resume my journey? I was feeble, indeed; but, by remaininghere, should I not increase my feebleness? The sooner I should gain somehuman habitation the better; whereas watchfulness and hunger wouldrender me, at each minute, less able to proceed than on the former. 

This spot might be visited on the next day; but this was involved inuncertainty. The visitants, should any come, would come merely toexamine and bury the dead, and bring with them neither the clothing northe food which my necessities demanded. The road was sufficientlydiscernible, and would, unavoidably, conduct me to some dwelling. Idetermined, therefore, to set out without delay. Even in this state Iwas not unmindful that my safety might require the precaution of beingarmed. Besides, the fusil which had been given me by Sarsefield, andwhich I had so unexpectedly recovered, had lost none of its value in myeyes. I hoped that it had escaped the search of the troop who had beenhere, and still lay below the bank in the spot where I had dropped it. 

In this hope I was not deceived. It was found. I possessed myself of thepowder and shot belonging to one of the savages, and loaded it. Thusequipped for defence, I regained the road, and proceeded, with alacrity, on my way. For the wound in my cheek, nature had provided a styptic, butthe soreness was extreme, and I thought of no remedy but water, withwhich I might wash away the blood. My thirst likewise incommoded me, andI looked with eagerness for the traces of a spring. In a soil like thatof the wilderness around me, nothing was less to be expected than tolight upon water. In this respect, however, my destiny was propitious. Iquickly perceived water in the ruts. It trickled hither from the thicketon one side, and, pursuing it among the bushes, I reached the bubblingsource. Though scanty and brackish, it afforded me unspeakablerefreshment. 

Thou wilt think, perhaps, that my perils were now at an end; that theblood I had already shed was sufficient for my safety. I fervently hopedthat no new exigence would occur compelling me to use the arms that Ibore in my own defence. I formed a sort of resolution to shun thecontest with a new enemy, almost at the expense of my own life. I wassatiated and gorged with slaughter, and thought upon a new act ofdestruction with abhorrence and loathing. 

But, though I dreaded to encounter a new enemy, I was sensible that anenemy might possibly be at hand. I had moved forward with caution, andmy sight and hearing were attentive to the slightest tokens. Othertroops, besides that which I encountered, might be hovering near, and ofthat troop I remembered that one at least had survived. 

The gratification which the spring had afforded me was so great, that Iwas in no haste to depart. I lay upon a rock, which chanced to be shadedby a tree behind me. From this post I could overlook the road to somedistance, and, at the same time, be shaded from the observation ofothers. 

My eye was now caught by movements which appeared like those of a beast. In different circumstances, I should have instantly supposed it to be awolf, or panther, or bear. Now my suspicions were alive on a differentaccount, and my startled fancy figured to itself nothing but a humanadversary. 

A thicket was on either side of the road. That opposite to my stationwas discontinued at a small distance by the cultivated field. The roadcontinued along this field, bounded by the thicket on the one side andthe open space on the other. To this space the being who was nowdescribed was cautiously approaching. 

He moved upon all fours, and presently came near enough to bedistinguished. His disfigured limbs, pendants from his ears and nose, and his shorn locks, were indubitable indications of a savage, Occasionally he reared himself above the bushes, and scanned, withsuspicious vigilance, the cottage and the space surrounding it. Then hestooped, and crept along as before. 

I was at no loss to interpret these appearances. This was my survivingenemy. He was unacquainted with the fate of his associates, and was nowapproaching the theatre of carnage to ascertain their fate. 

Once more was the advantage afforded me. From this spot might unerringaim be taken, and the last of this hostile troop be made to share thefate of the rest. Should I fire, or suffer him to pass in safety?

My abhorrence of bloodshed was not abated. But I had not foreseen thisoccurrence. My success hitherto had seemed to depend upon a combinationof fortunate incidents, which could not be expected again to take place;but now was I invested with the same power. The mark was near; nothingobstructed or delayed; I incurred no danger, and the event was certain. 

Why should he be suffered to live? He came hither to murder and despoilmy friends; this work he has, no doubt, performed. Nay, has he not bornehis part in the destruction of my uncle and my sisters? He will liveonly to pursue the same sanguinary trade; to drink the blood and exultin the laments of his unhappy foes and of my own brethren. Fate hasreserved him for a bloody and violent death. For how long a time soeverit may be deferred, it is thus that his career will inevitablyterminate. 

Should he be spared, he will still roam in the wilderness, and I mayagain be fated to encounter him. Then our mutual situation may be widelydifferent, and the advantage I now possess may be his. 

While hastily revolving these thoughts, I was thoroughly aware that oneevent might take place which would render all deliberation useless. Should he spy me where I lay, my fluctuations must end. My safety wouldindispensably require me to shoot. This persuasion made me keep asteadfast eye upon his motions, and be prepared to anticipate hisassault. 

It now most seasonably occurred to me that one essential duty remainedto be performed. One operation, without which fire-arms are useless, hadbeen unaccountably omitted. My piece was uncocked. I did not reflectthat in moving the spring a sound would necessarily be producedsufficient to alarm him. But I knew that the chances of escaping hisnotice, should I be perfectly mute and still, were extremely slender, and that, in such a case, his movements would be quicker than the light:it behooved me, therefore, to repair my omission. 

The sound struck him with alarm. He turned and darted at me an inquiringglance. I saw that forbearance was no longer in my power; but my heartsunk while I complied with what may surely be deemed an indispensablenecessity. This faltering, perhaps, it was that made me swerve somewhatfrom the fatal line. He was disabled by the wound, but not killed. 

He lost all power of resistance, and was, therefore, no longer to bedreaded. He rolled upon the ground, uttering doleful shrieks, andthrowing his limbs into those contortions which bespeak the keenestagonies to which ill-fated man is subject. Horror, and compassion, andremorse, were mingled into one sentiment, and took possession of myheart. To shut out this spectacle, I withdrew from the spot, but Istopped before I had moved beyond hearing of his cries. 

The impulse that drove me from the scene was pusillanimous and cowardly. The past, however deplorable, could not be recalled; but could not Iafford some relief to this wretch? Could not I at least bring his pangsto a speedy close? Thus he might continue, writhing and calling upondeath, for hours. Why should his miseries be uselessly prolonged?

There was but one way to end them. To kill him outright was the dictateof compassion and of duty. I hastily returned, and once more levelled mypiece at his head. It was a loathsome obligation, and was performed withunconquerable reluctance. Thus to assault and to mangle the body of anenemy, already prostrate and powerless, was an act worthy of abhorrence;yet it was, in this case, prescribed by pity. 

My faltering hand rendered this second bullet ineffectual. Oneexpedient, still more detestable, remained. Having gone thus far, itwould have been inhuman to stop short. His heart might easily be piercedby the bayonet, and his struggles would cease. 

This task of cruel lenity was at length finished. I dropped the weaponand threw myself on the ground, overpowered by the horrors of thisscene. Such are the deeds which perverse nature compels thousands ofrational beings to perform and to witness! Such is the spectacle, endlessly prolonged and diversified, which is exhibited in every fieldof battle; of which habit and example, the temptations of gain, and theillusions of honour, will make us, not reluctant or indifferent, butzealous and delighted actors and beholders!

Thus, by a series of events impossible to be computed or foreseen, wasthe destruction of a band, selected from their fellows for an arduousenterprise, distinguished by prowess and skill, and equally armedagainst surprise and force, completed by the hand of a boy, uninured tohostility, unprovided with arms, precipitate and timorous! I have notedmen who seemed born for no end but by their achievements to belieexperience, and baffle foresight, and outstrip belief. Would to God thatI had not deserved to be numbered among these! But what power was itthat called me from the sleep of death just in time to escape themerciless knife of this enemy? Had my swoon continued till he hadreached the spot, he would have effectuated my death by new wounds andtorn away the skin from my brows. Such are the subtle threads on whichhang the fate of man and of the universe!

While engaged in these reflections, I perceived that the moonlight hadbegun to fade before that of the sun. A dusky and reddish hue spreaditself over the east. Cheered by this appearance, I once more resumed myfeet and the road. I left the savage wrhere he lay, but made prize ofhis tomahawk. I had left my own in the cavern; and this weapon addedlittle to my burden. Prompted by some freak of fancy, I stuck his musketin the ground, and left it standing upright in the middle of the road. 

Chapter XX. 

I moved forward with as quick a pace as my feeble limbs would permit. Idid not allow myself to meditate. The great object of my wishes was adwelling where food and repose might be procured. I looked earnestlyforward, and on each side, in search of some token of human residence;but the spots of cultivation, the _well-pole_, the _worm fence_, and the hayrick, were nowhere to be seen. I did not even meet with awild hog or a bewildered cow. The path was narrow, and on either sidewas a trackless wilderness. On the right and left were the wavinglines of mountainous ridges, which had no peculiarity enabling me toascertain whether I had ever before seen them. 

At length I noticed that the tracks of wheels had disappeared from thepath that I was treading; that it became more narrow, and exhibitedfewer marks of being frequented. These appearances were discouraging. Inow suspected that I had taken a wrong direction, and, instead ofapproaching, was receding from, the habitation of men. 

It was wisest, however, to proceed. The road could not but have someorigin as well as end. Some hours passed away in this uncertainty. Thesun rose, and by noonday I seemed to be farther than ever from the endof my toils. The path was more obscure, and the wilderness more rugged. Thirst more incommoded me than hunger, but relief was seasonablyafforded by the brooks that flowed across the path. 

Coming to one of these, and having slaked my thirst, I sat down upon thebank, to reflect on my situation. The circuity of the path hadfrequently been noticed, and I began to suspect that, though I hadtravelled long, I had not moved far from the spot where I had commencedmy pilgrimage. 

Turning my eyes on all sides, I noticed a sort of pool, formed by therivulet, at a few paces distant from the road. In approaching andinspecting it, I observed the footsteps of cattle, who had retired by apath that seemed much beaten: I likewise noticed a cedar bucket, brokenand old, lying on the margin. These tokens revived my drooping spirits, arid I betook myself to this new track. It was intricate, but, atlength, led up a steep, the summit of which was of better soil than thatof which the flats consisted. A clover-field, and several apple-trees, --sure attendants of man, --were now discovered. From this space I entereda corn-field, and at length, to my inexpressible joy, caught a glimpseof a house. 

This dwelling was far different from that I had lately left. It was assmall and as low, but its walls consisted of boards. A window of fourpanes admitted the light, and a chimney of brick, well burnt and neatlyarranged, peeped over the roof. As I approached, I heard the voice ofchildren and the hum of a spinning-wheel. 

I cannot make thee conceive the delight which was afforded me by allthese tokens. I now found myself, indeed, among beings like myself, andfrom whom hospitable entertainment might be confidently expected. Icompassed the house, and made my appearance at the door. 

A good woman, busy at her wheel, with two children playing on the groundbefore her, were the objects that now presented themselves. Theuncouthness of my garb, my wild and weatherworn appearance, my fusil andtomahawk, could not but startle them. The woman stopped her wheel, andgazed as if a spectre had started into view. 

I was somewhat aware of these consequences, and endeavoured to eludethem by assuming an air of supplication and humility. I told her that Iwas a traveller, who had unfortunately lost his way and had rambled inthis wild till nearly famished for want. I entreated her to give me somefood; any thing, however scanty or coarse, would be acceptable. 

After some pause she desired me, though not without some marks of fear, to walk in. She placed before me some brown bread and milk. She eyed mewhile I eagerly devoured this morsel. It was, indeed, more deliciousthan any I had ever tasted. At length she broke silence, and expressedher astonishment and commiseration at my seemingly-forlorn state, addingthat perhaps I was the man whom the men were looking after who had beenthere some hours before. 

My curiosity was roused by this intimation. In answer to myinterrogations, she said that three persons had lately stopped, toinquire if her husband had not met, within the last three days, a personof whom their description seemed pretty much to suit my person anddress. He was tall, slender, wore nothing but shirt and trousers, andwas wounded on the cheek. 

"What, " I asked, "did they state the rank or condition of the person tobe?"

He lived in Solesbury. He was supposed to have rambled in the mountains, and to have lost his way, or to have met with some mischance. It wasthree days since he had disappeared, but had been seen by some one, thelast night, at Deb's hut. 

What and where was Deb's hut?

It was a hut in the wilderness, occupied by an old Indian woman, knownamong her neighbours by the name of Old Deb. Some people called herQueen Mab. Her dwelling was eight _long_ miles from this house. 

A thousand questions were precluded and a thousand doubts solved by thisinformation. _Queen Mab_ were sounds familiar to my ears; for theyoriginated with myself. 

This woman originally belonged to the tribe of Delawares, orLenni-lennapee. All these districts were once comprised within thedominions of that nation. About thirty years ago, in consequence ofperpetual encroachments of the English colonists, they abandoned theirancient seats and retired to the banks of the Wabash and Muskingum. 

This emigration was concerted in a general council of the tribe, andobtained the concurrence of all but one female. Her birth, talents, andage, gave her much consideration and authority among her countrymen; andall her zeal and eloquence were exerted to induce them to lay asidetheir scheme. In this, however, she could not succeed. Finding themrefractory, she declared her resolution to remain behind and maintainpossession of the land which her countrymen should impiously abandon. 

The village inhabited by this clan was built upon ground which nowconstitutes my uncle's barnyard and orchard. On the departure of hercountrymen, this female burnt the empty wigwams and retired into thefastnesses of Norwalk. She selected a spot suitable for an Indiandwelling and a small plantation of maize, and in which she was seldomliable to interruption and intrusion. 

Her only companions were three dogs, of the Indian or wolf species. These animals differed in nothing from their kinsmen of the forest butin their attachment and obedience to their mistress. She governed themwith absolute sway. They were her servants and protectors, and attendedher person or guarded her threshold, agreeably to her directions. Shefed them with corn, and they supplied her and themselves with meat, byhunting squirrels, raccoons, and rabbits. 

To the rest of mankind they were aliens or enemies. They never left thedesert but in company with their mistress, and, when she entered afarm-house, waited her return at a distance. They would suffer none toapproach them, but attacked no one who did not imprudently crave theiracquaintance, or who kept at a respectful distance from their wigwam. That sacred asylum they would not suffer to be violated, and no strangercould enter it but at the imminent hazard of his life, unlessaccompanied and protected by their dame. 

The chief employment of this woman, when at home, besides plucking theweeds from among her corn, bruising the grain between two stones, andsetting her snares for rabbits and opossums, was to talk. Though insolitude, her tongue was never at rest but when she was asleep; but herconversation was merely addressed to her dogs. Her voice was sharp andshrill, and her gesticulations were vehement and grotesque. A hearerwould naturally imagine that she was scolding; but, in truth, she wasmerely giving them directions. Having no other object of contemplationor subject of discourse, she always found, in their postures and looks, occasion for praise, or blame, or command. The readiness with which theyunderstood, and the docility with which they obeyed, her movements andwords, were truly wonderful. 

If a stranger chanced to wander near her hut and overhear her jargon, incessant as it was, and shrill, he might speculate in vain on thereason of these sounds. If he waited in expectation of hearing somereply, he waited in vain. The strain, always voluble and sharp, wasnever intermitted for a moment, and would continue for hours at a time. 

She seldom left the hut but to visit the neighbouring inhabitants anddemand from them food and clothing, or whatever her necessitiesrequired. These were exacted as her due; to have her wants supplied washer prerogative, and to withhold what she claimed was rebellion. Sheconceived that by remaining behind her countrymen she succeeded to thegovernment and retained the possession of all this region. The Englishwere aliens and sojourners, who occupied the land merely by herconnivance and permission, and whom she allowed to remain on no termsbut those of supplying her wants. 

Being a woman aged and harmless, her demands being limited to that ofwhich she really stood in need, and which her own industry could notprocure, her pretensions were a subject of mirth and good-humour, andher injunctions obeyed with seeming deference and gravity. To me sheearly became an object of curiosity and speculation. I delighted toobserve her habits and humour her prejudices. She frequently came to myuncle's house, and I sometimes visited her: insensibly she seemed tocontract an affection for me, and regarded me with more complacency andcondescension than any other received. 

She always disdained to speak English, and custom had rendered herintelligible to most in her native language, with regard to a few simplequestions. I had taken some pains to study her jargon, and could makeout to discourse with her on the few ideas which she possessed. Thiscircumstance, likewise, wonderfully prepossessed her in my favour. 

The name by which she was formerly known was Deb; but her pretensions toroyalty, the wildness of her aspect and garb, her shrivelled anddiminutive form, a constitution that seemed to defy the ravages of timeand the influence of the elements, her age, (which some did not scrupleto affirm exceeded a hundred years, ) her romantic solitude andmountainous haunts, suggested to my fancy the appellation of _QueenMab_. There appeared to me some rude analogy between this personageand her whom the poets of old time have delighted to celebrate: thouperhaps wilt discover nothing but incongruities between them; but, bethat as it may, Old Deb and Queen Mab soon came into indiscriminate andgeneral use. 

She dwelt in Norwalk upwards of twenty years. She was not forgotten byher countrymen, and generally received from her brothers and sons anautumnal visit; but no solicitations or entreaties could prevail on herto return with them. Two years ago, some suspicion or disgust inducedher to forsake her ancient habitation and to seek a hew one. Happily shefound a more convenient habitation twenty miles to the westward, and ina spot abundantly sterile and rude. 

This dwelling was of logs, and had been erected by a Scottish emigrant, who, not being rich enough to purchase land, and entertaining a passionfor solitude and independence, cleared a field in the unappropriatedwilderness and subsisted on its produce. After some time he disappeared. Various conjectures were formed as to the cause of his absence. None ofthem were satisfactory; but that, which obtained most credit was, thathe had been murdered by the Indians, who, about the same period, paidtheir annual visit to the _Queen_. This conjecture acquired someforce by observing that the old woman shortly after took possession ofhis hut, his implements of tillage, and his corn-field. 

She was not molested in her new abode, and her life passed in the samequiet tenor as before. Her periodical rambles, her regal claims, herguardian wolves, and her uncouth volubility, were equally remarkable;but her circuits were new. Her distance made her visits to Solebury morerare, and had prevented me from ever extending my pedestrian excursionsto her present abode. 

These recollections were now suddenly called up by the information of myhostess. The hut where I had sought shelter and relief was, it seems, the residence of Queen Mab. Some fortunate occurrence had called heraway during my visit. Had she and her dogs been at home, I should havebeen set upon by these ferocious sentinels, and, before their dame couldhave interfered, have been, together with my helpless companion, mangledor killed. These animals never barked: I should have entered unaware ofmy danger, and my fate could scarcely have been averted by my fusil. 

Her absence at this unseasonable hour was mysterious. It was now thetime of year when her countrymen were accustomed to renew their visit. Was there a league between her and the plunderers whom I hadencountered?

But who were they by whom my footsteps were so industriously traced?Those whom I had seen at Deb's hut were strangers to me, but the woundupon my face was known only to them. To this circumstance was now addedmy place of residence and name. I supposed them impressed with thebelief that I was dead; but this mistake must have speedily beenrectified. Revisiting the spot, finding me gone, and obtaining someintelligence of my former condition, they had instituted a search afterme. 

But what tidings were these? I was supposed to have been bewildered inthe mountains, and three days were said to have passed since mydisappearance. Twelve hours had scarcely elapsed since I emerged fromthe cavern. Had two days and a half been consumed in my subterraneanprison?

These reflections were quickly supplanted by others. I now gained asufficient acquaintance with the region that was spread around me. I wasin the midst of a vale included between ridges that gradually approachedeach other, and, when joined, were broken up into hollows and steeps, and, spreading themselves over a circular space, assumed the appellationof Norwalk. This vale gradually widened as it tended to the westward, and was, in this place, ten or twelve miles in breadth. My deviousfootsteps had brought me to the foot of the southern barrier. The outerbasis of this was laved by the river; but, as it tended eastward, themountain and river receded from each other, and one of the cultivabledistricts lying between them was Solesbury, my natal _township_. Hither it was now my duty to return with the utmost expedition. 

There were two ways before me. One lay along the interior base of thehill, over a sterile and trackless space, and exposed to the encounterof savages, some of whom might possibly be lurking here. The other wasthe well-frequented road on the outside and along the river, and whichwas to be gained by passing over this hill. The practicability of thepassage was to be ascertained by inquiries made to my hostess. Shepointed out a path that led to the rocky summit and down to the river'sbrink. The path was not easy to be kept in view or to be trodden, but itwas undoubtedly to be preferred to any other. 

A route somewhat circuitous would terminate in the river-road. Thenceforward the way to Solesbury was level and direct; but the wholespace which I had to traverse was not less than thirty miles. In sixhours it would be night, and to perform the journey in that time woulddemand the agile boundings of a leopard and the indefatigable sinews ofan elk. 

My frame was in a miserable plight. My strength had been assailed byanguish, and fear, and watchfulness, by toil, and abstinence, andwounds. Still, however, some remnant was left; would it not enable me toreach my home by nightfall? I had delighted, from my childhood, in featsof agility and perseverance. In roving through the maze of thickets andprecipices, I had put my energies, both moral and physical, frequentlyto the test. Greater achievements than this had been performed, and Idisdained to be outdone in perspicacity by the lynx, in his sure-footedinstinct by the roe, or in patience under hardship, and contention withfatigue, by the Mohawk. I have ever aspired to transcend the rest ofanimals in all that is common to the rational and brute, as well as inall by which they are distinguished from each other. 

Chapter XXI. 

I likewise burned with impatience to know the condition of my family, todissipate at once their tormenting doubts and my own with regard to ourmutual safety. The evil that I feared had befallen them was too enormousto allow me to repose in suspense, and my restlessness and ominousforebodings would be more intolerable than any hardship or toils towhich I could possibly be subjected during this journey. 

I was much refreshed and invigorated by the food that I had taken, andby the rest of an hour. With this stock of recruited force I determinedto scale the hill. After receiving minute directions, and, returningmany thanks for my hospitable entertainment, I set out. 

The path was indeed intricate, and deliberate attention was obliged tobe exerted in order to preserve it. Hence my progress was slower than Iwished. The first impulse was to fix my eye upon the summit, and to leapfrom crag to crag till I reached it; but this my experience had taughtme was impracticable. It was only by winding through gullies, andcoasting precipices and bestriding chasms, that I could hope finally togain the top; and I was assured that by one way only was it possible toaccomplish even this. 

An hour was spent in struggling with impediments, and I seemed to havegained no way. Hence a doubt was suggested whether I had not missed thetrue road. In this doubt I was confirmed by the difficulties which nowgrew up before me. The brooks, the angles, and the hollows, which myhostess had described, were not to be seen. Instead of these, deeperdells, more headlong torrents, and wider-gaping rifts, were incessantlyencountered. 

To return was as hopeless as to proceed. I consoled myself with thinkingthat the survey which my informant had made of the hill-side might proveinaccurate, and that, in spite of her predictions, the heights might bereached by other means than by those pointed out by her. I will notenumerate my toilsome expedients, my frequent disappointments, and mydesperate exertions. Suffice it to say that I gained the upper space nottill the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. 

My satisfaction at accomplishing thus much was not small, and I hied, with renovated spirits, to the opposite brow. This proved to be a steepthat could not be descended. The river flowed at its foot. The oppositebank was five hundred yards distant, and was equally towering and steepas that on which I stood. Appearances were adapted to persuade you thatthese rocks had formerly joined, but by some mighty effort of nature hadbeen severed, that the stream might find way through the chasm. Thechannel, however, was encumbered with asperities, over which the riverfretted and foamed with thundering impetuosity. 

I pondered for a while on these stupendous scenes. They ravished myattention from considerations that related to myself; but this intervalwas snort, and I began to measure the descent, in order to ascertain thepracticability of treading it. My survey terminated in bitterdisappointment. I turned my eye successively eastward and westward. Solesbury lay in the former direction, and thither I desired to go. Ikept along the verge in this direction till I reached an impassablerift. Beyond this I saw that the steep grew lower; but it was impossibleto proceed farther. Higher up the descent might be practicable, and, though more distant from Solesbury, it was better to reach the road evenat that distance than never to reach it. 

Changing my course, therefore, I explored the spaces above. The nightwas rapidly advancing; the gray clouds gathered in the southeast, and achilling blast, the usual attendant of a night in October, began towhistle among the pigmy cedars that scantily grew upon these heights. Myprogress would quickly be arrested by darkness, and it behooved me toprovide some place of shelter and repose. No recess better than a hollowin the rock presented itself to my anxious scrutiny. 

Meanwhile, I would not dismiss the hope of reaching the road, which Isaw some hundred feet below, winding along the edge of the river, beforedaylight should utterly fail. Speedily these hopes derived new vigourfrom meeting a ledge that irregularly declined from the brow of thehill. It was wide enough to allow of cautious footing. On a similarstratum, or ledge, projecting still farther from the body of the hill, and close to the surface of the river, was the road. This stratumascended from the level of the stream, while that on which I trodrapidly descended. I hoped that they would speedily be blended, or, atleast, approach so near as to allow me to leap from one to the otherwithout enormous hazard. 

This fond expectation was frustrated. Presently I perceived that theledge below began to descend, while that above began to tend upward andwas quickly terminated by the uppermost surface of the cliff. Here itwas needful to pause. I looked over the brink, and considered whether Imight not leap from my present station without endangering my limbs. Theroad into which I should fall was a rocky pavement far from beingsmooth. The descent could not be less than forty or fifty feet. Such anattempt was, to the last degree, hazardous; but was it not better torisk my life by leaping from this eminence than to remain and perish onthe top of this inhospitable mountain? The toils which I had endured inreaching this height appeared, to my panic-struck fancy, less easy to beborne again than death. 

I know not but that I should have finally resolved to leap, had notdifferent views been suggested by observing that the outer edge of theroad was, in like manner, the brow of a steep which terminated in theriver. The surface of the road was twelve or fifteen feet above thelevel of the stream, which, in this spot, was still and smooth. Hence Iinferred that the water was not of inconsiderable depth. To fall uponrocky points was, indeed, dangerous, but to plunge into water ofsufficient depth, even from a height greater than that at which I nowstood, especially to one to whom habit had rendered water almost ascongenial an element as air, was scarcely attended with inconvenience. This expedient was easy and safe. Twenty yards from this spot, thechannel was shallow, and to gain the road from the stream was nodifficult exploit. 

Some disadvantages, however, attended this scheme. The water was smooth;but this might arise from some other cause than its depth. My gun, likewise, must be left behind me; and that was a loss to which I feltinvincible repugnance. To let it fall upon the road would put it in mypower to retrieve the possession, but it was likely to be irreparablyinjured by the fall. 

While musing upon this expedient, and weighing injuries with benefits, the night closed upon me. I now considered that, should I emerge insafety from the stream, I should have many miles to travel before Icould reach a house. My clothes meanwhile would be loaded with wet. Ishould be heart-pierced by the icy blast that now blew, and my woundsand bruises would be chafed into insupportable pain. 

I reasoned likewise on the folly of impatience and the necessity ofrepose. By thus long continuance in one posture, my sinews began tostiffen, and my reluctance to make new exertions to increase. My browswere heavy, and I felt an irresistible propensity to sleep. I concludedto seek some shelter, and resign myself, my painful recollections, andmy mournful presages, to sweet forgetfulness. For this end, I once moreascended to the surface of the cliff. I dragged my weary feet forward, till I found somewhat that promised me the shelter that I sought. 

A cluster of cedars appeared, whose branches overarched a space thatmight be called a bower. It was a slight cavity, whose flooring wascomposed of loose stones and a few faded leaves blown from a distanceand finding a temporary lodgment here. On one side was a rock, forming awall rugged and projecting above. At the bottom of the rock was a rift, somewhat resembling a coffin in shape, and not much larger indimensions. This rift terminated, on the opposite side of the rock, inan opening that was too small for the body of a man to pass. Thedistance between each entrance was twice the length of a man. 

This bower was open to the southeast, whence the gale now blew. Ittherefore imperfectly afforded the shelter of which I stood in need;but it was the best that the place and the time afforded. To stop thesmaller entrance of the cavity with a stone, and to heap before theother branches lopped from the trees with my hatchet, might somewhatcontribute to my comfort. 

This was done, and, thrusting myself into this recess as far as I wasable, I prepared for repose. It might have been reasonably suspected tobe the den of rattlesnakes or panthers; but my late contention withsuperior dangers and more formidable enemies made me reckless of these. But another inconvenience remained. In spite of my precautions, mymotionless posture and slender covering exposed me so much to the coldthat I could not sleep. 

The air appeared to have suddenly assumed the temperature of midwinter. In a short time, my extremities were benumbed, and my limbs shivered andached as if I had been seized by an ague. My bed likewise was dank anduneven, and the posture I was obliged to assume, unnatural and painful. It was evident that my purpose could not be answered by remaining here. 

I therefore crept forth, and began to reflect upon the possibility ofcontinuing my journey. Motion was the only thing that could keep me fromfreezing, and my frame was in that state which allowed me to take norepose in the absence of warmth, since warmth was indispensable. It nowoccurred to me to ask whether it were not possible to kindle a fire. 

Sticks and leaves were at hand. My hatchet and a pebble would enable meto extract a spark. From this, by suitable care and perseverance, Imight finally procure sufficient fire to give me comfort and ease, andeven enable me to sleep. This boon was delicious, and I felt as if Iwere unable to support a longer deprivation of it. 

I proceeded to execute this scheme. I took the driest leaves, andendeavoured to use them as tinder; but the driest leaves were moistenedby the dews. They were only to be found in the hollows, in some of whichwere pools of water and others were dank. I was not speedilydiscouraged; but my repeated attempts failed, and I was finallycompelled to relinquish this expedient. 

All that now remained was to wander forth and keep myself in motion tillthe morning. The night was likely to prove tempestuous and long. Thegale seemed freighted with ice, and acted upon my body like the pointsof a thousand needles. There was no remedy, and I mustered my patienceto endure it. 

I returned again to the brow of the hill. I ranged along it till Ireached a place where the descent was perpendicular, and, in consequenceof affording no sustenance to trees or bushes, was nearly smooth andbare. There was no road to be seen; and this circumstance, added to thesounds which the rippling current produced, afforded me some knowledgeof my situation. 

The ledge along which the road was conducted disappeared near this spot. The opposite sides of the chasm through which flowed the riverapproached nearer to each other, in the form of jutting promontories. Inow stood upon the verge of that on the northern side. The waterflowred at the foot, but, for the space of ten or twelve feet from therock, was so shallow as to permit the traveller and his horse to wadethrough it, and thus to regain the road which the receding precipice hadallowed to be continued on the farther side. 

I knew the nature and dimensions of this ford. I knew that, at a fewyards from the rock, the channel was of great depth. To leap into it, inthis place, was a less dangerous exploit than at the spot where I hadformerly been tempted to leap. There I was unacquainted with the depth, but here I knew it to be considerable. Still, there was some ground ofhesitation and fear. My present station was loftier, and how deeply Imight sink into this gulf, how far the fall and the concussion wouldbereave me of my presence of mind, I could not determine. Thishesitation vanished, and, placing my tomahawk and fusil upon the ground, I prepared to leap. 

This purpose was suspended, in the moment of its execution, by a faintsound, heard from the quarter whence I had come. It was the warning ofmen, but had nothing in common with those which I had been accustomed tohear. It was not the howling of a wolf or the yelling of a panther. These had often been overheard by night during my last year's excursionto the lakes. My fears whispered that this was the vociferation of asavage. 

I was unacquainted with the number of the enemies who had adventuredinto this district. Whether those whom I had encountered at _Deb'shut_ were of that band whom I had met with in the cavern, was merelya topic of conjecture. There might be a half-score of troops, equallynumerous, spread over the wilderness, and the signal I had just heardmight betoken the approach of one of these. Yet by what means theyshould gain this nook, and what prey they expected to discover, were noteasily conceived. 

The sounds, somewhat diversified, nearer and rising from differentquarters, were again heard. My doubts and apprehensions were increased. What expedient to adopt for my own safety was a subject of rapidmeditation:--whether to remain stretched upon the ground or to rise andgo forward. Was it likely the enemy would coast along the edge of thesteep? Would they ramble hither to look upon the ample scene whichspread on all sides around the base of this rocky pinnacle? In thatcase, how should I conduct myself? My arms were ready for use. Could Inot elude the necessity of shedding more blood? Could I not anticipatetheir assault by casting myself without delay into the stream?

The sense of danger demanded more attention to be paid to externalobjects than to the motives by which my future conduct should beinfluenced. My post was on a circular prefecture, in some degreedetached from the body of the hill, the brow of which continued in astraight line, uninterrupted by this projecture, which was somewhathigher than the continued summit of the ridge. This line ran at thedistance of a few paces from my post. Objects moving along this linecould merely be perceived to move, in the present obscurity. 

My scrutiny was entirely directed to this quarter. Presently thetreading of many feet was heard, and several figures were discovered, following each other in that straight and regular succession which ispeculiar to the Indians. They kept along the brow of the hill joiningthe promontory. I distinctly marked seven figures in succession. 

My resolution was formed. Should any one cast his eye hither, suspect ordiscover an enemy, and rush towards me, I determined to start upon myfeet, fire on my foe as he advanced, throw my piece on the ground, andthen leap into the river. 

Happily, they passed unobservant and in silence. I remained in the sameposture for several minutes. At length, just as my alarms began tosubside, the halloos, before heard, arose, and from the same quarter asbefore. This convinced me that my perils were not at an end. This nowappeared to be merely the vanguard, and would speedily be followed byothers, against whom the same caution was necessary to be taken. 

My eye, anxiously bent the only way by which any one could approach, nowdiscerned a figure, which was indubitably that of a man armed. Noneother appeared in company; but doubtless others were near. Heapproached, stood still, and appeared to gaze steadfastly at the spotwhere I lay. 

The optics of a _Lenni-lennapee_ I knew to be far keener than myown. A log or a couched fawn would never be mistaken for a man, nor aman for a couched fawn or a log. Not only a human being would beinstantly detected, but a decision be unerringly made whether it wrerefriend or foe. That my prostrate body was the object on which theattention of this vigilant and steadfast gazer was fixed could not bedoubted. Yet, since he continued an inactive gazer, there was ground fora possibility to stand upon that I was not recognised. My fate thereforewas still in suspense. 

This interval was momentary. I marked a movement, which my fearsinstantly interpreted to be that of levelling a gun at my head. Thisaction was sufficiently conformable to my prognostics. Supposing me tobe detected, there was no need for him to change his post. Aim might betoo fatally taken, and his prey be secured, from the distance at whichhe now stood. 

These images glanced upon my thought, and put an end to my suspense. Asingle effort placed me on my feet. I fired with a precipitation thatprecluded the certainty of hitting my mark, dropped my piece upon theground, and leaped from this tremendous height into the river. I reachedthe surface, and sunk in a moment to the bottom. 

Plunging endlong into the water, the impetus created by my fall fromsuch a height would be slowly resisted by this denser element. Had thedepth been less, its resistance would not perhaps have hindered me frombeing mortally injured against the rocky bottom. Had the depth beengreater, time enough would not have been allowed me to regain thesurface. Had I fallen on my side, I should have been bereft of life orsensibility by the shock which my frame would have received. As it was, my fate was suspended on a thread. To have lost my presence of mind, tohave forborne to counteract my sinking, for an instant, after I hadreached the water, would have made all exertions to regain the airfruitless. To so fortunate a concurrence of events was thy friendindebted for his safety!

Yet I only emerged from the gulf to encounter new perils. Scarcely had Iraised my head above the surface, and inhaled the vital breath, whentwenty shots were aimed at me from the precipice above. A shower ofbullets fell upon the water. Some of them did not fall farther than twoinches from my head. I had not been aware of this new danger, and, nowthat it assailed me, continued gasping the air and floundering atrandom. The means of eluding it did not readily occur. My case seemeddesperate, and all caution was dismissed. 

This state of discomfiting surprise quickly disappeared. I made myselfacquainted, at a glance, with the position of surrounding objects. Iconceived that the opposite bank of the river would afford me mostsecurity, and thither I tended with all the expedition in my power. 

Meanwhile, my safety depended on eluding the bullets that continuedincessantly to strike the water at an arm's-length from my body. Forthis end I plunged beneath the surface, and only rose to inhale freshair. Presently the firing ceased, the flashes that lately illuminatedthe bank disappeared, and a certain bustle and murmur of confused voicesgave place to solitude and silence. 

Chapter XXII. 

I reached without difficulty the opposite bank, but the steep wasinaccessible. I swam along the edge in hopes of meeting with someprojection or recess where I might, at least, rest my weary limbs, and, if it were necessary to recross the river, to lay in a stock ofrecruited spirits and strength for that purpose. I trusted that thewater would speedily become shoal, or that the steep would afford restto my feet. In both these hopes I was disappointed. 

There is no one to whom I would yield the superiority in swimming; butmy strength, like that of other human beings, had its limits. Myprevious fatigues had been enormous, and my clothes, heavy withmoisture, greatly encumbered and retarded my movements. I had proposedto free myself from this imprisonment; but I foresaw the inconveniencesof wandering over this scene in absolute nakedness, and was willingtherefore, at whatever hazard, to retain them. I continued to strugglewith the current and to search for the means of scaling the steeps. Mysearch was fruitless, and I began to meditate the recrossing of theriver. 

Surely my fate has never been paralleled! Where was this series ofhardships and perils to end? No sooner was one calamity eluded, than Iwas beset by another. I had emerged from abhorred darkness in the heartof the earth, only to endure the extremities of famine and encounter thefangs of a wild beast. From these I was delivered only to be thrown intothe midst of savages, to wage an endless and hopeless war with adepts inkilling, with appetites that longed to feast upon my bowels and to quaffmy heart's blood. From these likewise was I rescued, but merely toperish in the gulfs of the river, to welter on unvisited shores, or tobe washed far away from curiosity or pity. 

Formerly water was not only my field of sport but my sofa and my bed. Icould float for hours on its surface, enjoying its delicious cool, almost without the expense of the slightest motion. It was an element asfitted for repose as for exercise; but now the buoyant spirit seemed tohave flown. My muscles were shrunk, the air and water were equallycongealed, and my most vehement exertions were requisite to sustain meon the surface. 

At first I had moved along with my wonted celerity and ease, but quicklymy forces were exhausted. My pantings and efforts were augmented, and Isaw that to cross the river again was impracticable. I must continue, therefore, to search out some accessible spot in the bank along which Iwas swimming. 

Each moment diminished my stock of strength, and it behooved me to makegood my footing before another minute should escape. I continued toswim, to survey the bank, and to make ineffectual attempts to grasp therock. The shrubs which grew upon it would not uphold me, and thefragments which, for a moment, inspired me with hope, crumbled away assoon as they were touched. 

At length I noticed a pine which was rooted in a crevice near the water. The trunk, or any part of the root, was beyond my reach; but I trustedthat I could catch hold of the branch which hung lowest, and that, whencaught, it would assist me in gaining the trunk, and thus deliver mefrom the death which could not be otherwise averted. 

The attempt was arduous. Had it been made when I first reached the bank, no difficulty had attended it; but now to throw myself some feet abovethe surface could scarcely be expected from one whose utmost effortsseemed to be demanded to keep him from sinking. Yet this exploit, arduous as it was, was attempted and accomplished. Happily the twigswere strong enough to sustain my weight till I caught at other branchesand finally placed myself upon the trunk. 

This danger was now past; but I admitted the conviction that others, noless formidable, remained to be encountered, and that my ultimatedestiny was death. I looked upward. New efforts might enable me to gainthe summit of this steep, but perhaps I should thus be placed merely inthe situation from which I had just been delivered. It was of littlemoment whether the scene of my imprisonment was a dungeon not to bebroken, or a summit from which descent was impossible. 

The river, indeed, severed me from a road which was level and safe, butmy recent dangers were remembered only to make me shudder at the thoughtof incurring them a second time by attempting to cross it. I blush atthe recollection of this cowardice. It was little akin to the spiritwhich I had recently displayed. It was, indeed, an alien to my bosom, and was quickly supplanted by intrepidity and perseverance. 

I proceeded to mount the hill. From root to root, and from branch tobranch, lay my journey. It was finished, and I sat down upon the highestbrow to meditate on future trials. No road lay along this side of theriver. It was rugged and sterile, and farms were sparingly dispersedover it. To reach one of these was now the object of my wishes. I hadnot lost the desire of reaching Solesbury before morning, but my wetclothes and the coldness of the night seemed to have bereaved me of thepower. 

I traversed this summit, keeping the river on my right hand. Happily, its declinations and ascents were by no means difficult, and I wascheered, in the midst of my vexations, by observing that every milebrought me nearer to my uncle's dwelling. Meanwhile I anxiously lookedfor some tokens of a habitation. These at length presented themselves. Awild heath, whistled over by October blasts, meagrely adorned with thedry stalks of scented shrubs and the bald heads of the sapless mullein, was succeeded by a fenced field and a corn-stack. The dwelling to whichthese belonged was eagerly sought. 

I was not surprised that all voices were still and all lightsextinguished, for this was the hour of repose. Having reached a piazzabefore the house, I paused. Whether, at this drowsy time, to knock foradmission, to alarm the peaceful tenants and take from them the restwhich their daily toils and their rural innocence had made so sweet, orto retire to what shelter a haystack or barn could afford, was the themeof my deliberations. 

Meanwhile, I looked up at the house. It was the model of cleanliness andcomfort. It was built of wood; but the materials had undergone theplane, as well as the axe and the saw. It was painted white, and thewindows not only had sashes, but these sashes were supplied, contrary tocustom, with glass. In most cases the aperture where glass should be isstuifed with an old hat or a petticoat. The door had not only all itsparts entire, but was embellished with mouldings and a pediment. Igathered from these tokens that this was the abode not only of ruralcompetence and innocence, but of some beings raised by education andfortune above the intellectual mediocrity of clowns. 

Methought I could claim consanguity with such beings. Not to share theircharity and kindness would be inflicting as well as receiving injury. The trouble of affording shelter, and warmth, and wholesome diet, to awretch destitute as I was, would be eagerly sought by them. 

Still, I was unwilling to disturb them. I bethought myself that theirkitchen might be entered, and all that my necessities required beobtained without interrupting their slumber. I needed nothing but thewarmth which their kitchen-hearth would afford. Stretched upon thebricks, I might dry my clothes, and perhaps enjoy some unmolested sleep, in spite of presages of ill and the horrid remembrances of what I hadperformed and endured. I believed that nature would afford a shortrespite to my cares. 

I went to the door of what appeared to be a kitchen. The door was wideopen. This circumstance portended evil. Though it be not customary tolock or to bolt, it is still less usual to have entrances unclosed. Ientered with suspicious steps, and saw enough to confirm myapprehensions. Several pieces of wood, half burned, lay in the midst ofthe floor. They appeared to have been removed hither from the chimney, doubtless with a view to set fire to the whole building. 

The fire had made some progress on the floor, but had been seasonablyextinguished by pailfuls of water thrown upon it. The floor was stilldeluged with wet: the pail, not emptied of all its contents, stood Uponthe hearth. The earthen vessels and plates, whose proper place was thedresser, were scattered in fragments in all parts of the room. I lookedaround me for some one to explain this scene, but no one appeared. 

The last spark of fire was put out, so that, had my curiosity been idle, my purpose could not be accomplished. To retire from this scene, neithercuriosity nor benevolence would permit. That some mortal injury had beenintended was apparent. What greater mischief had befallen, or whethergreater might not, by my interposition, be averted, could only beascertained by penetrating farther into the house. I opened a door onone side which led to the main body of the building and entered to abed-chamber. I stood at the entrance and knocked, but no one answered mysignals. 

The sky was not totally clouded, so that some light pervaded the room. Isaw that a bed stood in the corner, but whether occupied or not itscurtains hindered me from judging. I stood in suspense a few minutes, when a motion in the bed showed me that some one was there. I knockedagain, but withdrew to the outside of the door. This roused the sleeper, who, half groaning, and puffing the air through his nostrils, grumbledout, in the hoarsest voice that I ever heard, and in a tone of surlyimpatience, "Who is there?"

I hesitated for an answer; but the voice instantly continued, in themanner of one half asleep and enraged at being disturbed, "Is't you, Peg? Damn ye, stay away, now! I tell ye, stay away, or, by God, I willcut your throat!--I will!" He continued to mutter and swear, but withoutcoherence or distinctness. 

These were the accents of drunkenness, and denoted a wild and ruffianlife. They were little in unison with the external appearances of themansion, and blasted all the hopes I had formed of meeting under thisroof with gentleness and hospitality. To talk with this being, toattempt to reason him into humanity and soberness, was useless. I was ata loss in what manner to address him, or whether it was proper tomaintain any parley. Meanwhile, my silence was supplied by thesuggestions of his own distempered fancy. "Ay, " said he; "ye will, willye? Well, come on; let's see who's the better at the oak stick. If Ipart with ye before I have bared your bones!--I'll teach ye to be alwaysdipping in my dish, ye devil's dam ye. "

So saying, he tumbled out of bed. At the first step, he struck his headagainst the bedpost, but, setting himself upright, he staggered towardsthe spot where I stood. Some new obstacle occurred. He stumbled and fellat his length upon the floor. 

To encounter or expostulate with a man in this state was plainly absurd. I turned and issued forth, with an aching heart, into the court beforethe house. The miseries which a debauched husband or father inflictedupon all whom their evil destiny allies to him were pictured by myfancy, and wrung from me tears of anguish, These images, however, quickly yielded to reflections on my own state. No expedient nowremained but to seek the barn and find a covering and a bed of straw. 

I had scarcely set foot within the barnyard when I heard a sound as ofthe crying of an infant. It appeared to issue from the barn. Iapproached softly and listened at the door. The cries of the babecontinued, but were accompanied by the entreaties of a nurse or a motherto be quiet. These entreaties were mingled with heart-breaking sobs, andexclamations of, "Ah, me, my babe! Canst thou not sleep and aiford thyunhappy mother some peace? Thou art cold, and I have not sufficientwarmth to cherish thee! What will become of us? Thy deluded father caresnot if we both perish. "

A glimpse of the true nature of the scene seemed to be imparted by thesewords. I now likewise recollected incidents that afforded additionallight. Somewhere on this bank of the river there formerly resided one byname Selby. He was an aged person, who united science and taste to thesimple and laborious habits of a husbandman. He had a son who residedseveral years in Europe, but on the death of his father returned home, accompanied by a wife. He had succeeded to the occupation of the farm, but rumour had whispered many tales to the disadvantage of his morals. His wife was affirmed to be of delicate and polished manners, and muchunlike her companion. 

It now occurred to me that this was the dwelling of the Selbys, and Iseemed to have gained some insight into the discord and domesticmiseries by which the unhappy lady suffered. This was no time to wastemy sympathy on others. I could benefit her nothing. Selby had probablyreturned from a carousal, with all his malignant passions raised intofrenzy by intoxication. He had driven his desolate wife from her bed andhouse, and, to shun outrage and violence, she had fled, with herhelpless infant, to the barn. To appease his fury, to console her, tosuggest a remedy for this distress, was not in my power. To have soughtan interview would be merely to excite her terrors and alarm herdelicacy, without contributing to alleviate her calamity. Here, then, was no asylum for me. A place of rest must be sought at someneighbouring habitation. It was probable that one would be found at nogreat distance: the path that led from the spot where I stood, through agate, into a meadow, might conduct me to the nearest dwelling; and thispath I immediately resolved to explore. 

I was anxious to open the gate without noise, but I could not succeed. Some creaking of its hinges was unavoidably produced, which I fearedwould be overheard by the lady and multiply her apprehensions andperplexities. This inconvenience was irremediable. I therefore closedthe gate and pursued the footway before me with the utmost expedition. Ihad not gained the farther end of the meadow when I lighted on somethingwhich lay across the path, and which, on being closely inspected, appeared to be a human body. It was the corpse of a girl, mangled by ahatchet. Her head, gory and deprived of its locks, easily explained thekind of enemies by whom she had been assailed. Here was proof that thisquiet and remote habitation had been visited, in their destructiveprogress, by the Indians. The girl had been slain by them, and herscalp, according to their savage custom, had been torn away to bepreserved as a trophy. 

The fire which had been kindled on the kitchen-floor tvas nowremembered, and corroborated the inferences which were drawn from thisspectacle. And yet that the mischief had been thus limited, that thebesotted wretch who lay helpless on his bed and careless of impendingdanger, and that the mother and her infant, should escape, excited somedegree of surprise. Could the savages have been interrupted in theirwork, and obliged to leave their vengeance unfinished?

Their visit had been recent. Many hours had not elapsed since theyprowled about these grounds. Had they wholly disappeared, and meant theynot to return? To what new danger might I be exposed in remaining thusguideless and destitute of all defence?

In consequence of these reflections, I proceeded with more caution. Ilooked with suspicious glances before and on either side of me. I nowapproached the fence which, on this side, bounded the meadow. Somethingwas discerned, or imagined, stretched close to the fence, on the ground, and filling up the pathway. My apprehensions of a lurking enemy had beenpreviously awakened, and my fancy instantly figured to itself an armedman lying on the ground and waiting to assail the unsuspectingpassenger. 

At first I was prompted to fly, but a second thought showed me that Ihad already approached near enough to be endangered. Notwithstanding mypause, the form was motionless. The possibility of being misled in myconjectures was easily supposed. What I saw might be a log, or it mightbe another victim to savage ferocity. This track was that which mysafety required me to pursue. To turn aside or go back would be merelyto bewilder myself anew. 

Urged by these motives, I went nearer, and at last was close enough toperceive that the figure was human. He lay upon his face. Near his righthand was a musket, unclenched. This circumstance, his deathlikeattitude, and the garb and ornaments of an Indian, made me readilysuspect the nature and cause of this catastrophe. Here the invaders hadbeen encountered and repulsed, and one at least of their number had beenleft upon the field. 

I was weary of contemplating these rueful objects. Custom, likewise, even in so short a period, had inured me to spectacles of horror. I wasgrown callous and immovable. I stayed not to ponder on the scene, but, snatching the musket, which was now without an owner, and which might beindispensable to my defence, I hastened into the wood. On this side themeadow was skirted by a forest; but a beaten road led into it, and mighttherefore be attempted without danger. 

Chapter XXIII. 

The road was intricate and long. It seemed designed to pervade theforest in every possible direction. I frequently noticed cut wood piledin heaps upon either side, and rejoiced in these tokens that theresidence of man was near. At length I reached a second fence, whichproved to be the boundary of a road still more frequented. I pursuedthis, and presently beheld before me the river and its oppositebarriers. 

This object afforded me some knowledge of my situation. There was a fordover which travellers used to pass, and in which the road that I was nowpursuing terminated. The stream was rapid and tumultuous, but in thisplace did not rise higher than the shoulders. On the opposite side was ahighway, passable by horses and men, though not by carriages, and whichled into the midst of Solesbury. Should I not rush into the stream, andstill aim at reaching my uncle's house before morning? Why should Idelay?

Thirty hours of incessant watchfulness and toil, of enormous efforts andperils, preceded and accompanied by abstinence and wounds, were enoughto annihilate the strength and courage of ordinary men. In the course ofthem, I had frequently believed myself to have reached the verge beyondwhich my force would not carry me; but experience as frequentlydemonstrated my error. Though many miles were yet to be traversed, though my clothes were once more to be drenched and loaded withmoisture, though every hour seemed to add somewhat to the keenness ofthe blast, yet how should I know, but by trial, whether my stock ofenergy was not sufficient for this last exploit?

My resolution to proceed was nearly formed, when the figure of a manmoving slowly across the road at some distance before me was observed. Hard by this ford lived a man by name Bisset, of whom I had slightknowledge. He tended his two hundred acres with a plodding andmoney-doting spirit, while his son overlooked a grist-mill on the river. He was a creature of gain, coarse and harmless. The man whom I saw beforeme might be he, or some one belonging to his family. Being armed fordefence, I less scrupled at meeting with any thing in the shape of man. I therefore called. The figure stopped and answered me without surlinessor anger. The voice was unlike that of Bisset, but this person'sinformation I believed would be of some service. 

Coming up to him, he proved to be a clown belonging to Bisset'shabitation. His panic and surprise on seeing me made him aghast. In mypresent garb I should not have easily been recognised by my nearestkinsman, and much less easily by one who had seldom met me. 

It may be easily conceived that my thoughts, when allowed to wander fromthe objects before me, were tormented with forebodings and inquietudeson account of the ills which I had so much reason to believe hadbefallen my family. I had no doubt that some evil had happened, but thefull extent of it was still uncertain. I desired and dreaded to discoverthe truth, and was unable to interrogate this person in a direct manner. I could deal only in circuities and hints. I shuddered while I waitedfor an answer to my inquiries. 

Had not Indians, I asked, been lately seen in this neighbourhood? Werethey not suspected of hostile designs? Had they not already committedsome mischief? Some passenger, perhaps, had been attacked, or fire hadbeen set to some house? On which side of the river had their steps beenobserved or any devastation been committed? Above the ford or below it?At what distance from the river?

When his attention could be withdrawn from my person and bestowed uponmy questions, he answered that some alarm had indeed been spread aboutIndians, and that parties from Solesbury and Chetasco were out inpursuit of them, that many persons had been killed by them, and that onehouse in Solesbury had been rifled and burnt on the night before thelast. 

These tidings were a dreadful confirmation of my fears. There scarcelyremained a doubt; but still my expiring hope prompted me to inquire, "Towhom did the house belong?"

He answered that he had not heard the name of the owner. He was astranger to the people on the other side of the river. 

Were any of the inhabitants murdered?

Yes; all that were at home, except a girl whom they carried off. Somesaid that the girl had been retaken. 

What was the name? Was it Huntly?

Huntly? Yes. No. He did not know. He had forgotten. 

I fixed my eyes upon the ground. An interval of gloomy meditationsucceeded. All was lost! All for whose sake I had desired to live hadperished by the hands of these assassins! That dear home, the scene ofmy sportive childhood, of my studies, labours, and recreations, wasravaged by fire and the sword, --was reduced to a frightful ruin!

Not only all that embellished and endeared existence was destroyed, butthe means of subsistence itself. Thou knowest that my sisters and I weredependants on the bounty of our uncle. His death would make way for thesuccession of his son, a man fraught with envy and malignity, who alwaystestified a mortal hatred to us, merely because we enjoyed theprotection of his father. The ground which furnished me with bread wasnow become the property of one who, if he could have done it withsecurity, would gladly have mingled poison with my food. 

All that my imagination or my heart regarded as of value had likewiseperished. Whatever my chamber, my closets, my cabinets contained, myfurniture, my books, the records of my own skill, the monuments of theirexistence whom I loved, my very clothing, were involved inindiscriminate and irretrievable destruction. Why should I survive thiscalamity?

But did not he say that one had escaped? The only females in the familywere my sisters. One of these had been reserved for a fate worse thandeath; to gratify the innate and insatiable cruelty of savages, bysuffering all the torments their invention can suggest, or to linger outyears of weary bondage and unintermitted hardship in the bosom of thewilderness. To restore her to liberty, to cherish this last survivor ofmy unfortunate race, was a sufficient motive to life and to activity. 

But soft! Had not rumour whispered that the captive was retaken? Oh! whowas her angel of deliverance? Where did she now abide? Weeping over theuntimely fall of her protector and her friend? Lamenting and upbraidingthe absence of her brother? Why should I not haste to find her?--tomingle my tears with hers, to assure her of my safety, and expatiate theinvoluntary crime of my desertion by devoting all futurity to the taskof her consolation and improvement?

The path was open and direct. My new motives would have trampled uponevery impediment and made me reckless of all dangers and all toils. Ibroke from my reverie, and, without taking leave or expressing gratitudeto my informant, I ran with frantic expedition towards the river, and, plunging into it, gained the opposite side in a moment. 

I was sufficiently acquainted with the road. Some twelve or fifteenmiles remained to be traversed. I did not fear that my strength wouldfail in the performance of my journey. It was not my uncle's habitationto which I directed my steps. Inglefield was my friend. If my sister hadexistence, or was snatched from captivity, it was here that an asylumhad been afforded to her, and here was I to seek the knowledge of mydestiny. For this reason, having reached a spot where the road dividedinto two branches, one of which led to Inglefield's and the other toHuntly's, I struck into the former. 

Scarcely had I passed the angle when I noticed a building on the righthand, at some distance from the road. In the present state of mythoughts, it would not have attracted my attention, had not a lightgleamed from an upper window and told me that all within were not atrest. 

I was acquainted with the owner of this mansion. He merited esteem andconfidence, and could not fail to be acquainted with recent events. Fromhim I should obtain all the information that I needed, and I should bedelivered from some part of the agonies of my suspense. I should reachhis door in a few minutes, and the window-light was a proof that myentrance at this hour would not disturb the family, some of whom werestirring. 

Through a gate I entered an avenue of tall oaks, that led to the house. I could not but reflect on the effect which my appearance would produceupon the family. The sleek locks, neat apparel, pacific guise, sobrietyand gentleness of aspect by which I was customarily distinguished, wouldin vain be sought in the apparition which would now present itselfbefore them. My legs, neck, and bosom were bare, and their native huewas exchanged for the livid marks of bruises and scarifications. Ahorrid scar upon my cheek, and my uncombed locks; hollow eyes, madeghastly by abstinence and cold, and the ruthless passions of which mymind had been the theatre, added to the musket which I carried in myhand, would prepossess them with the notion of a maniac or ruffian. 

Some inconveniences might hence arise, which, however, could not beavoided. I must trust to the speed with which my voice and my wordsshould disclose my true character and rectify their mistake. 

I now reached the principal door of the house. It was open, and Iunceremoniously entered. In the midst of the room stood a German stove, well heated. To thaw my half-frozen limbs was my first care. Meanwhile Igazed around me, and marked the appearances of things. 

Two lighted candles stood upon the table. Beside them were cider-bottlesand pipes of tobacco. The furniture and room was in that state whichdenoted it to have been lately filled with drinkers and smokers; yetneither voice, nor visage, nor motion, were anywhere observable. Ilistened; but neither above nor below, within nor without, could anytokens of a human being be perceived. 

This vacancy and silence must have been lately preceded by noise, andconcourse, and bustle. The contrast was mysterious and ambiguous. Noadequate cause of so quick and absolute a transition occurred to me. Having gained some warmth and lingered some ten or twenty minutes inthis uncertainty, I determined to explore the other apartments of thebuilding. I knew not what might betide in my absence, or what I mightencounter in my search to justify precaution, and, therefore, kept thegun in my hand. I snatched a candle from the table and proceeded intotwo other apartments on the first floor and the kitchen. Neither wasinhabited, though chairs and tables were arranged in their usual order, and no traces of violence or hurry were apparent. 

Having gained the foot of the staircase, I knocked, but my knocking waswholly disregarded. A light had appeared in an upper chamber. It wasnot, indeed, in one of those apartments which the family permanentlyoccupied, but in that which, according to rural custom, was reserved forguests; but it indubitably betokened the presence of some being by whommy doubts might be solved. These doubts were too tormenting to allow ofscruples and delay. I mounted the stairs. 

At each chamber-door I knocked, but I knocked in vain. I tried to open, but found them to be locked. I at length reached the entrance of that inwhich a light had been discovered. Here it was certain that some onewould be found; but here, as well as elsewhere, my knocking wasunnoticed. 

To enter this chamber was audacious, but no other expedient was affordedme to determine whether the house had any inhabitants. I thereforeentered, though with caution and reluctance. No one was within, butthere were sufficient traces of some person who had lately been here. Onthe table stood a travelling-escritoire, open, with pens and inkstand. Achair was placed before it, and a candle on the right hand. Thisapparatus was rarely seen in this country. Some traveller, it seemed, occupied this room, though the rest of the mansion was deserted. Thepilgrim, as these appearances testified, was of no vulgar order, andbelonged not to the class of periodical and every-day guests. 

It now occurred to me that the occupant of this apartment could not befar off, and that some danger and embarrassment could not fail to accruefrom being found, thus accoutred and garbed, in a place sacred to thestudy and repose of another. It was proper, therefore, to withdraw, andeither to resume my journey, or wait for the stranger's return, whomperhaps some temporary engagement had called away, in the lower andpublic room. The former now appeared to be the best expedient, as thereturn of this unknown person was uncertain, as well as his power tocommunicate the information which I wanted. 

Had paper, as well as the implements of writing, lain upon the desk, perhaps my lawless curiosity would not have scrupled to have pried intoit. On the first glance nothing of that kind appeared; but now, as Iturned towards the door, somewhat, lying beside the desk, on the sideopposite the candle, caught my attention. The impulse was instantaneousand mechanical that made me leap to the spot and lay my hand upon it. Till I felt it between my fingers, till I brought it near my eyes andread frequently the inscriptions that appeared upon it, I was doubtfulwhether my senses had deceived me. 

Few, perhaps, among mankind, have undergone vicissitudes of peril andwonder equal to mine. The miracles of poetry, the transitions ofenchantment, are beggarly and mean compared with those which I hadexperienced. Passage into new forms, overleaping the bars of time andspace, reversal of the laws of inanimate and intelligent existence, hadbeen mine to perform and to witness. 

No event had been more fertile of sorrow and perplexity than the loss ofthy brother's letters. They went by means invisible, and disappeared ata moment when foresight would have least predicted their disappearance. They now placed themselves before me, in a manner equally abrupt, in aplace and by means no less contrary to expectation. The papers which Inow seized were those letters. The parchment cover, the string that tiedand the wax that sealed them, appeared not to have been opened orviolated. 

The power that removed them, from my cabinet, and dropped them in thishouse, --a house which I rarely visited, which I had not entered duringthe last year, with whose inhabitants I maintained no cordialintercourse, and to whom my occupations and amusements, my joys and mysorrows, were unknown, --was no object even of conjecture. But they werenot possessed by any of the family. Some stranger was here, by whom theyhad been stolen, or into whose possession they had, by someincomprehensible chance, fallen. 

That stranger was near. He had left this apartment for a moment. Hewould speedily return. To go hence might possibly occasion me to misshim. Here, then, I would wait, till he should grant me an interview. Thepapers were mine, and were recovered. I would never part with them. Butto know by whose force or by whose stratagems I had been bereaved ofthem thus long, was now the supreme passion of my soul. I seated myselfnear a table and anxiously waited for an interview, on which I wasirresistibly persuaded to believe that much of my happiness depended. 

Meanwhile, I could not but connect this incident with the destruction ofmy family. The loss of these papers had excited transports of grief; andyet to have lost them thus was perhaps the sole expedient by which theirfinal preservation could be rendered possible. Had they, remained in mycabinet, they could not have escaped the destiny which overtook thehouse and its furniture. Savages are not accustomed to leave theirexterminating work unfinished. The house which they have plundered theyare careful to level with the ground. This not only their revenge, buttheir caution, prescribes. Fire may originate by accident as well as bydesign, and the traces of pillage and murder are totally obliterated bythe flames. 

These thoughts were interrupted by the shutting of a door below, and byfootsteps ascending the stairs. My heart throbbed at the sound. My seatbecame uneasy and I started on my feet. I even advanced half-way to theentrance of the room. My eyes were intensely fixed upon the door. Myimpatience would have made me guess at the person of this visitant bymeasuring his shadow, if his shadow were first seen; but this wasprecluded by the position of the light. It was only when the figureentered, and the whole person was seen, that my curiosity was gratified. He who stood before me was the parent and fosterer of my mind, thecompanion and instructor of my youth, from whom I had been parted foryears, from whom I believed myself to be forever separated, --Sarsefieldhimself!

Chapter XXIV. 

My deportment, at an interview so much desired and so wholly unforeseen, was that of a maniac. The petrifying influence of surprise yielded tothe impetuosities of passion. I held him in my arms; I wept upon hisbosom; I sobbed with emotion which, had it not found passage at my eyes, would have burst my heart-strings. Thus I, who had escaped the deathsthat had previously assailed me in so many forms, should have beenreserved to solemnize a scene like this by--_dying for joy_!

The sterner passions and habitual austerities of my companion exemptedhim from pouring out this testimony of his feelings. His feelings were, indeed, more allied to astonishment and incredulity than mine had been. My person was not instantly recognised. He shrunk from my embrace as ifI were an apparition or impostor. He quickly disengaged himself from myarms, and, withdrawing a few paces, gazed upon me as on one whom he hadnever before seen. 

These repulses were ascribed to the loss of his affection. I was notmindful of the hideous guise in which I stood before him, and by whichhe might justly be misled to imagine me a ruffian or a lunatic. My tearsflowed now on a new account, and I articulated, in a broken and faintvoice, "My master! my friend! Have you forgotten, have you ceased tolove me?"

The sound of my voice made him start and exclaim, "Am I alive? am Iawake? Speak again, I beseech you, and convince me that I am notdreaming or delirious. "

"Can you need any proof, " I answered, "that it is Edgar Huntly, yourpupil, your child, that speaks to you?"

He now withdrew his eyes from me and fixed them on the floor. After apause he resumed, in emphatic accents:--"Well, I have lived to this agein unbelief. To credit or trust in miraculous agency was foreign to mynature, but now I am no longer skeptical. Call me to any bar, and exactfrom me an oath that you have twice been dead and twice recalled tolife; that you move about invisibly, and change your place by the force, not of muscles, but of thought, and I will give it. 

"How came you hither? Did you penetrate the wall? Did you rise throughthe floor?

"Yet surely 'tis an error. You could not be he whom twenty witnessesaffirmed to have beheld a lifeless and mangled corpse upon the ground, whom my own eyes saw in that condition. 

"In seeking the spot once more to provide you a grave, you had vanished. Again I met you. You plunged into a rapid stream, from a height fromwhich it was impossible to fall and to live; yet, as if to set thelimits of nature at defiance, to sport with human penetration, you roseupon the surface; you floated; you swam; thirty bullets were aimed atyour head, by marksmen celebrated for the exactness of their sight. Imyself was of the number, and I never missed what I desired to hit. 

"My predictions were confirmed by the event. You ceased to struggle; yousunk to rise no more; and yet, after these accumulated deaths, you lightupon this floor, so far distant from the scene of your catastrophe, overspaces only to be passed, in so short a time as has since elapsed, bythose who have wings. 

"My eyes, my ears, bear testimony to your existence now, as theyformerly convinced me of your death. What am I to think? what proofs amI to credit?" There he stopped. 

Every accent of this speech added to the confusion of my thoughts. Theallusions that my friend had made were not unintelligible. I gained aglimpse of the complicated errors by which we had been mutuallydeceived. I had fainted on the area before Deb's hut. I was found bySarsefield in this condition, and imagined to be dead. 

The man whom I had seen upon the promontory was not an Indian. Hebelonged to a numerous band of pursuers, whom my hostile and precipitatedeportment caused to suspect me for an enemy. They that fired from thesteep were friends. The interposition that screened me from so manybullets was indeed miraculous. No wonder that my voluntary sinking, inorder to elude their shots, was mistaken for death, and that, havingaccomplished the destruction of this foe, they resumed their pursuit ofothers. But how was Sarsefield apprized that it was I who plunged intothe river? No subsequent event was possible to impart to him theincredible truth. 

A pause of mutual silence ensued. At length Sarsefield renewed hisexpressions of amazement at this interview, and besought me to explainwhy I had disappeared by night from my uncle's house, and by what seriesof unheard-of events this interview was brought about. Was it indeedHuntly whom he examined and mourned over at the threshold of Deb's hut. Whom he had sought in every thicket and cave in the ample circuit ofNorwalk and Chetasco? Whom he had seen perish in the current of theDelaware?

Instead of noticing his questions, my soul was harrowed with anxietyrespecting the fate of my uncle and sisters. Sarsefield couldcommunicate the tidings which would decide on my future lot and set myportion in happiness or misery. Yet I had not breath to speak myinquiries. Hope tottered, and I felt as if a single word would besufficient for its utter subversion. At length I articulated the name ofmy uncle. 

The single word sufficiently imparted my fears, and these fears neededno verbal confirmation. At that dear name my companion's features wereoverspread by sorrow. 

"Your uncle, " said he, "is dead. "

"Dead? Merciful Heaven! And my sisters too! Both?"

"Your sisters are alive and well. "

"Nay, " resumed I, in faltering accents, "jest not with my feelings. Benot cruel in your pity. Tell me the truth. "

"I have said the truth. They are well, at Mr. Inglefield's. "

My wishes were eager to assent to the truth of these tidings. The betterpart of me was, then, safe: but how did they escape the fate thatovertook my uncle? How did they evade the destroying hatchet and themidnight conflagration? These doubts were imparted in a tumultuous andobscure manner to my friend. He no sooner fully comprehended them, thanhe looked at me with some inquietude and surprise. 

"Huntly, " said he, "are you mad? What has filled you with these hideousprepossessions? Much havoc has indeed been committed in Chetasco and thewilderness, and a log hut has been burnt, by design or by accident, inSolesbury; but that is all. Your house has not been assailed by eitherfirebrand or tomahawk. Every thing is safe and in its ancient order. Themaster indeed is gone, but the old man fell a victim to his own temerityand hardihood. It is thirty years since he retired with three woundsfrom the field of Braddock; but time in no degree abated his adventurousand military spirit. On the first alarm, he summoned his neighbours, andled them in pursuit of the invaders. Alas! he was the first to attackthem, and the only one who fell in the contest. "

These words were uttered in a manner that left me no room to doubt oftheir truth. My uncle had already been lamented, and the discovery ofthe nature of his death, so contrary to my forebodings, and of thesafety of my girls, made the state of my mind partake more of exultationand joy than of grief or regret. 

But how was I deceived? Had not my fusil been found in the hands of anenemy? Whence could he have plundered it but from my own chamber? Ithung against the wall of a closet, from which no stranger could havetaken it except by violence. My perplexities and doubts were not at anend, but those which constituted my chief torment were removed. Ilistened to my friend's entreaties to tell him the cause of myelopement, and the incidents that terminated in the present interview. 

I began with relating my return to consciousness in the bottom of thepit; my efforts to free myself from this abhorred prison; the acts ofhorror to which I was impelled by famine, and their excruciatingconsequences; my gaining the outlet of the cavern, the desperateexpedient by which I removed the impediment to my escape, and thedeliverance of the captive girl; the contest I maintained before Deb'shut; my subsequent wanderings; the banquet which hospitality affordedme; my journey to the river-bank; my meditations on the means ofreaching the road; my motives for hazarding my life by plunging into thestream; and my subsequent perils and fears till I reached the thresholdof this habitation. 

"Thus, " continued I, "I have complied with your request. I have told allthat I myself know. What were the incidents between my sinking to restat my uncle's and my awaking in the chambers of the hill; by what meansand by whose contrivance, preternatural or human, this transition waseffected, I am unable to explain; I cannot even guess. 

"What has eluded my sagacity may not be beyond the reach of another. Your own reflections on my tale, or some facts that have fallen underyour notice, may enable you to furnish a solution. But, meanwhile, howam I to account for your appearance on this spot? This meeting wasunexpected and abrupt to you, but it has not been less so to me. Of allmankind, Sarsefield was the furthest from my thoughts when I saw thesetokens of a traveller and a stranger. 

"You were imperfectly acquainted with my wanderings. You saw me on theground before Deb's hut. You saw me plunge into the river. Youendeavoured to destroy me while swimming; and you knew, before mynarrative was heard, that Huntly was the object of your enmity. What wasthe motive of your search in the desert, and how were you apprized of mycondition? These things are not less wonderful that any of those which Ihave already related. "

During my tale the features of Sarsefield betokened the deepestattention. His eye strayed not a moment from my face. All my perils andforebodings were fresh in my remembrance: they had scarcely gone by;their skirts, so to speak, were still visible. No wonder that myeloquence was vivid and pathetic; that I portrayed the past as if itwere the present scene; and that not my tongue only, but every muscleand limb, spoke. 

When I had finished my relation, Sarsefield sank into thoughtfulness. From this, after a time, he recovered, and said, "Your tale, Huntly, istrue; yet, did I not see you before me, were I not acquainted with theartlessness and rectitude of your character, and, above all, had not myown experience, during the last three days, confirmed every incident, Ishould question its truth. You have amply gratified my curiosity, anddeserve that your own should be gratified as fully. Listen to me. 

"Much has happened since we parted, which shall not be now mentioned. Ipromised to inform you of my welfare by letter, and did not fail towrite; but whether my letters were received, or any were written by youin return, or if written were ever transmitted, I cannot tell: none wereever received. 

"Some days since, I arrived, in company with a lady who is my wife, inAmerica. You have never been forgotten by me. I knew your situation tobe little in agreement with your wishes, and one of the benefits whichfortune has lately conferred upon me is the power of snatching you froma life of labour and obscurity, whose goods, scanty as they are, weretransient and precarious, and affording you the suitable leisure andmeans of intellectual gratification and improvement. 

"Your silence made me entertain some doubts concerning your welfare, andeven your existence. To solve these doubts, I hastened to Solesbury. Some delays upon the road hindered me from accomplishing my journey bydaylight. It was night before I entered the Norwalk path; but my ancientrambles with you made me familiar with it, and I was not afraid of beingobstructed or bewildered. 

"Just as I gained the southern outlet, I spied a passenger on foot, coming towards me with a quick pace. The incident was of no moment; andyet the time of night, the seeming expedition of the walker, recollection of the mazes and obstacles which he was going to encounter, and a vague conjecture that perhaps he was unacquainted with thedifficulties that awaited him, made me eye him with attention as hepassed. 

"He came near, and I thought I recognised a friend in this traveller. The form, the gesture, the stature, bore a powerful resemblance to thoseof Edgar Huntly. This resemblance was so strong, that I stopped, and, after he had gone by, called him by your name. That no notice was takenof my call proved that the person was mistaken; but, even though it wereanother, that he should not even hesitate or turn at a summons which hecould not but perceive to be addressed, though erroneously, to him, wasthe source of some surprise. I did not repeat my call, but proceeded onmy way. 

"All had retired to repose in your uncle's dwelling. I did not scrupleto rouse them, and was received with affectionate and joyous greetings. That you allowed your uncle to rise before you was a new topic ofreflection. To my inquiries concerning you, answers were made thataccorded with my wishes. I was told that you were in good health andwere then in bed. That you had not heard and risen at my knocking wasmentioned with surprise; but your uncle accounted for your indolence bysaying that during the last week you had fatigued yourself by rambling, night and day, in search of some maniac or visionary who was supposed tohave retreated into Norwalk. 

"I insisted upon awakening you myself. I anticipated the effect of thissudden and unlooked-for meeting with some emotions of pride as well asof pleasure. To find, in opening your eyes, your old preceptor standingby your bedside and gazing in your face, would place you, I conceived, in an affecting situation. 

"Your chamber-door was open, but your bed was empty. Your uncle andsisters were made acquainted with this circumstance. Their surprise gaveway to conjectures that your restless and romantic spirit had temptedyou from your repose, that you had rambled abroad on some fantasticerrand, and would probably return before the dawn. I willinglyacquiesced in this opinion, and, my feelings being too thoroughlyaroused to allow me to sleep, I took possession of your chamber andpatiently awaited your return. 

"The morning returned, but Huntly made not his appearance. Your unclebecame somewhat uneasy at this unseasonable absence. Much speculationand inquiry as to the possible reasons of your flight was made. In mysurvey of your chamber, I noted that only part of your clothing remainedbeside your bed. Coat, hat, stockings and shoes lay upon the spot wherethey had probably been thrown when you had disrobed yourself; but thepantaloons, which, according to Mr. Huntly's report, completed yourdress, were nowhere to be found. That you should go forth on so cold anight so slenderly apparelled, was almost incredible. Your reason oryour senses had deserted you, before so rash an action could bemeditated. 

"I now remembered the person I had met in Norwalk. His resemblance toyour figure, his garb, which wanted hat, coat, stockings and shoes, andyour absence from your bed at that hour, were remarkable coincidences:but why did you disregard my call? Your name, uttered by a voice thatcould not be unknown, was surely sufficient to arrest your steps. 

"Each hour added to the impatience of your friends. To theirrecollections and conjectures I listened with a view to extract fromthem some solution of this mystery. At length a story was alluded to ofsome one who, on the preceding night, had been heard walking in the longroom: to this was added the tale of your anxieties and wondersoccasioned by the loss of certain manuscripts. 

"While ruminating upon these incidents, and endeavouring to extract fromthis intelligence a clue explanatory of your present situation, a singleword, casually dropped by your uncle, instantly illuminated my darknessand dispelled my doubts. --'After all, ' said the old man, 'ten to one butEdgar himself was the man whom we heard walking, but the lad was asleep, and knew not what he was about. '

"'Surely, ' said I, 'this inference is just. His manuscripts could not beremoved by any hands but his own, since the rest of mankind wereunacquainted not only with the place of their concealment, but withtheir existence. None but a man insane or asleep would wander forth soslightly dressed, and none but a sleeper would have disregarded mycalls. ' This conclusion was generally adopted; but it gave birth in mymind to infinite inquietudes. You had roved into Norwalk, a scene ofinequalities, of prominences and pits, among which, thus destitute ofthe guidance of your senses, you could scarcely fail to be destroyed, or, at least, irretrievably bewildered. I painted to myself the dangersto which you were subjected. Your careless feet would bear you into somewhirlpool or to the edge of some precipice; some internal revolution oroutward shock would recall you to consciousness at some perilous moment. Surprise and fear would disable you from taking seasonable or suitableprecautions, and your destruction be made sure. 

"The lapse of every new hour, without bringing tidings of your state, enhanced these fears. At length the propriety of searching for youoccurred; Mr. Huntly and I determined to set out upon this pursuit, aswell as to commission others. A plan was laid by which every accessiblepart of Norwalk, the wilderness beyond the flats of Solesbury, and thevalley of Chetasco, should be traversed and explored. 

"Scarcely had we equipped ourselves for this expedition, when amessenger arrived, who brought the disastrous news of Indians being seenwithin these precincts, and on the last night a farmer was shot in hisfields, a dwelling in Chetasco was burnt to the ground, and itsinhabitants murdered or made captives. Rumour and inquiry had been busy, and a plausible conjecture had been formed as to the course and numberof the enemies. They were said to be divided into bands, and to amountin the whole to thirty or forty warriors. This messenger had come towarn us of danger which might impend, and to summon us to join in thepursuit and extirpation of these detestable foes. 

"Your uncle, whose alacrity and vigour age had not abated, eagerlyengaged in this scheme. I was not averse to contribute my efforts to anend like this. The road which we had previously designed to take, insearch of my fugitive pupil, was the same by which we must trace orintercept the retreat of the savages. Thus two purposes, equallymomentous, would be answered by the same means. 

"Mr. Huntly armed himself with your fusil; Inglefield supplied me with agun. During our absence the dwelling was closed and locked, and yoursisters placed under the protection of Inglefield, whose age and pacificsentiments unfitted him for arduous and sanguinary enterprises. A troopof rustics was collected, half of whom remained to traverse Solesbury, and the other, whom Mr. Huntly and I accompanied, hastened to Chetasco. "

Chapter XXV. 

"It was noonday before we reached the theatre of action. Fear andrevenge combined to make the people of Chetasco diligent and zealous intheir own defence. The havoc already committed had been mournful. Toprevent a repetition of the same calamities, they resolved to hunt outthe hostile footsteps and exact a merciless retribution. 

"It was likely that the enemy, on the approach of day, had withdrawnfrom the valley and concealed themselves in the thickets between theparallel ridges of the mountain. This space, which, according to theobject with which it is compared, is either a vale or the top of a hill, was obscure and desolate. It was undoubtedly the avenue by which therobbers had issued forth, and by which they would escape to the Ohio. Here they might still remain, intending to emerge from their concealmenton the next night and perpetrate new horrors. 

"A certain distribution was made of our number, so as to move in alldirections at the same time. I will not dwell upon particulars. It willsuffice to say that keen eyes and indefatigable feet brought us at lastto the presence of the largest number of these marauders. Seven of themwere slain by the edge of a brook, where they sat wholly unconscious ofthe danger which hung over them. Five escaped, and one of these securedhis retreat by wresting your fusil from your uncle and shooting himdead. Before our companion could be rescued or revenged, the assassin, with the remnant of the troop, disappeared, and bore away with him thefusil as a trophy of his victory. 

"This disaster was deplored, not only on account of that life which hadthus been sacrificed, but because a sagacious guide and intrepid leaderwas lost. His acquaintance with the habits of the Indians, and hisexperience in their wars, made him trace their footsteps with morecertainty than any of his associates. 

"The pursuit was still continued, and parties were so stationed that theescape of the enemy was difficult, if not impossible. Our search wasunremitted, but, during twelve or fourteen hours, unsuccessful. QueenMab did not elude all suspicion. Her hut was visited by differentparties, but the old woman and her dogs had disappeared. 

"Meanwhile your situation was not forgotten. Every one was charged toexplore your footsteps as well as those of the savages; but this searchwas no less unsuccessful than the former. None had heard of you or seenyou. 

"This continued till midnight. Three of us made a pause at a brook, andintended to repair our fatigues by a respite of a few hours; butscarcely had we stretched ourselves on the ground when we were alarmedby a shot which seemed to have been fired at a short distance. Westarted on our feet and consulted with each other on the measures to betaken. A second, a third, and a fourth shot, from the same quarter, excited our attention anew. Mab's hut was known to stand at the distanceand in the direction of this sound, and thither we resolved to repair. 

"This was done with speed, but with the utmost circumspection. Weshortly gained the road that leads near this hut, and at length gained aview of the building. Many persons were discovered, in a sort ofbustling inactivity, before the hut. They were easily distinguished tobe friends, and were therefore approached without scruple. 

"The objects that presented themselves to a nearer view were five bodiesstretched upon the ground. Three of them were savages. The fourth was agirl, who, though alive, seemed to have received a mortal wound. Thefifth, breathless and mangled, and his features almost concealed by theblood that overspread his face, was Edgar, --the fugitive for whom I hadmade such anxious search. 

"About the same hour on the last night I had met you hastening intoNorwalk. Now were you lying in the midst of savages, at the distance ofthirty miles from your home, and in a spot which it was impossible foryou to have reached unless by an immense circuit over rocks andthickets. That you had found a rift at the basis of a hill, and thuspenetrated its solidities, and thus precluded so tedious and circuitousa journey as must otherwise have been made, was not to be imagined. 

"But whence arose this scene? It was obvious to conclude that myassociates had surprised their enemies in this house, and exacted fromthem the forfeit of their crimes; but how you should have beenconfounded with their foes, or whence came the wounded girl, was asubject of astonishment. 

"You will judge how much this surprise was augmented when I was informedthat the party whom we found had been attracted hither by the samesignals by which we had been alarmed. That on reaching this spot you hadbeen discovered, alive, seated on the ground, and still sustaining thegun with which you had apparently completed the destruction of so manyadversaries. In a moment after their arrival you sunk down and expired. 

"This scene was attended with inexplicable circumstances. The musketwhich lay beside you appeared to have belonged to one of the savages. The wound by which each had died was single. Of the four shots we haddistinguished at a distance, three of them were therefore fatal to theIndians, and the fourth was doubtless that by which you had fallen; yetthree muskets only were discoverable. 

"The arms were collected, and the girl carried to the nearest house inthe arms of her father. Her situation was deemed capable of remedy, andthe sorrow and wonder which I felt at your untimely and extraordinaryfate did not hinder me from endeavouring to restore the health of thisunfortunate victim. I reflected, likewise, that some light might bethrown upon transactions so mysterious by the information which might becollected from her story. Numberless questions and hints were necessaryto extract from her a consistent or intelligible tale. She had beendragged, it seems, for miles, at the heels of her conquerors, who atlength stopped in a cavern for the sake of some repose. All slept butone, who sat and watched. Something called him away, and, at the samemoment, you appeared at the bottom of the cave, half naked and withoutarms. You instantly supplied the last deficiency by seizing the gun andtomahawk of him who had gone forth, and who had negligently left hisweapons behind. Then, stepping over the bodies of the sleepers, yourushed out of the cavern. 

"She then mentioned your unexpected return, her deliverance and flight, and arrival at Deb's hut. You watched upon the hearth, and she fellasleep upon the blanket. From this sleep she was aroused by violent andcruel blows. She looked up: you were gone, and the bed on which she laywas surrounded by the men from whom she had so lately escaped. Onedragged her out of the hut and levelled his gun at her breast. At themoment when he touched the trigger, a shot came from an unknown quarter, and he fell at her feet. Of subsequent events she had an incoherentrecollection. The Indians were successively slain, and you came to her, and interrogated and consoled her. 

"In your journey to the hut you were armed. This in some degreeaccounted for appearances: but where were your arms? Three muskets onlywere discovered, and these undoubtedly belonged to your enemies. 

"I now had leisure to reflect upon your destiny. I had arrived soonenough on this shore merely to witness the catastrophe of two beingswhom I most loved. Both were overtaken by the same fate, nearly at thesame hour. The same hand had possibly accomplished the destruction ofuncle and nephew. 

"Now, however, I began to entertain a hope that your state might not beirretrievable. You had walked and spoken after the firing had ceased andyour enemies had ceased to contend with you. A wound had, no doubt, beenpreviously received. I had hastily inferred that the wound was mortal, and that life could not be recalled. Occupied with attention to thewailings of the girl, and full of sorrow and perplexity, I had admittedan opinion which would have never been adopted in differentcircumstances. My acquaintance with wounds would have taught me toregard sunken muscles, lividness, and cessation of the pulse, as mereindications of a swoon, and not as tokens of death. 

"Perhaps my error was not irreparable. By hastening to the hut, I mightascertain your condition, and at least transport your remains to somedwelling and finally secure to you the decencies of burial. 

"Of twelve savages discovered on the preceding day, ten were now killed. Two at least remained, after whom the pursuit was still zealouslymaintained. Attention to the wounded girl had withdrawn me from theparty, and I had now leisure to return to the scene of these disasters. The sun had risen, and, accompanied by two others, I repaired thither. 

"A sharp turn in the road, at the entrance of a field, set before us astartling spectacle. An Indian, mangled by repeated wounds of bayonetand bullet, was discovered. His musket was stuck in the ground, by wayof beacon attracting our attention to the spot. Over this space I hadgone a few hours before, and nothing like this was then seen. Theparties abroad had hied away to a distant quarter. Some invisible powerseemed to be enlisted in our defence and to preclude the necessity ofour arms. 

"We proceeded to the hut. The savages were there, but Edgar had risenand flown! Nothing now seemed to be incredible. You had slain threefoes, and the weapon with which the victory had been achieved hadvanished. You had risen from the dead, had assailed one of the survivingenemies, had employed bullet and dagger in his destruction, with both ofwhich you could only be supplied by supernatural means, and haddisappeared. If any inhabitant of Chetasco had done this, we should haveheard of it. 

"But what remained? You were still alive. Your strength was sufficientto bear you from this spot. Why were you still invisible? and to whatdangers might you not be exposed before you could disinvolve yourselffrom the mazes of this wilderness?

"Once more I procured indefatigable search to be made after you. It wascontinued till the approach of evening, and was fruitless. Inquirieswere twice made at the house where you were supplied with food andintelligence. On the second call I was astonished and delighted by thetidings received from the good woman. Your person, and demeanour, andarms, were described, and mention made of your resolution to cross thesouthern ridge and traverse the Solesbury Road with the utmostexpedition. 

"The greater part of my inquietudes were now removed. You were able toeat and to travel, and there was little doubt that a meeting would takeplace between us on the next morning. Meanwhile, I determined to concurwith those who pursued the remainder of the enemy. I followed you, inthe path that you were said to have taken, and quickly joined a numerousparty who were searching for those who, on the last night, had attackeda plantation that lies near this, and destroyed the inhabitants. 

"I need not dwell upon our doublings and circuities. The enemy wastraced to the house of Selby. They had entered, they had put fire on thefloor, but were compelled to relinquish their prey. Of what number theyconsisted could not be ascertained; but one, lingering behind hisfellows, was shot, at the entrance of the wood, and on the spot whereyou chanced to light upon him. 

"Selby's house was empty, and before the fire had made any progress weextinguished it. The drunken wretch whom you encountered had probablyreturned from his nocturnal debauch after we had left the spot. 

"The flying enemy was pursued with fresh diligence. They were found, byvarious tokens, to have crossed the river, and to have ascended themountain. We trod closely on their heels. When we arrived at thepromontory described by you, the fatigues of the night and day renderedme unqualified to proceed. I determined that this should be the bound ofmy excursions. I was anxious to obtain an interview with you, and, unless I paused here, should not be able to gain Inglefield's as earlyin the morning as I wished. Two others concurred with me in thisresolution, and prepared to return to this house, which had beendeserted by its tenants till the danger was past, and which had beenselected as the place of rendezvous. 

"At this moment, dejected and weary, I approached the ledge whichsevered the headland from the mountain. I marked the appearance of someone stretched upon the ground where you lay. No domestic animal wouldwander hither and place himself upon this spot. There was somethinglikewise in the appearance of the object that bespoke it to be man; but, if it were man, it was incontrovertibly a savage and a foe. Idetermined, therefore, to rouse you by a bullet. 

"My decision was perhaps absurd. I ought to have gained more certaintybefore I hazarded your destruction. Be that as it will, a moment'slingering on your part would have probably been fatal. You started onyour feet, and fired. See the hole which your random shot made throughmy sleeve! This surely was a day destined to be signalized byhairbreadth escapes. 

"Your action seemed incontestably to confirm my prognostics. Every onehurried to the spot and was eager to destroy an enemy. No one hesitatedto believe that some of the shots aimed at you had reached their mark, and that you had sunk to rise no more. 

"The gun which was fired and thrown down was taken and examined. It hadbeen my companion in many a toilsome expedition. It had rescued me andmy friends from a thousand deaths. In order to recognise it, I neededonly to touch and handle it. I instantly discovered that I held in myhand the fusil which I had left with you on parting, with which youruncle had equipped himself, and which had been ravished from him by asavage. What was I hence to infer respecting the person of the lastpossessor?

"My inquiries respecting you, of the woman whose milk and bread you hadeaten, were minute. You entered, she said, with a hatchet and gun inyour hand. While you ate, the gun was laid upon the table. She sat near, and the piece became the object of inquisitive attention. The stock andbarrels were described by her in such terms as left no doubt that thiswas the _fusil_. 

"A comparison of incidents enabled me to trace the manner in which youcame into possession of this instrument. One of those whom you found inthe cavern was the assassin of your uncle. According to the girl'sreport, on issuing from your hiding-place you seized a gun that wasunoccupied, and this gun chanced to be your own. 

"Its two barrels were probably the cause of your success in that unequalcontest at Mab's hut. On recovering from _deliquium_, you found it whereit had been dropped by you, out of sight and unsuspected by the partythat had afterwards arrived. In your passage to the river, had it oncemore fallen into hostile hands? or had you missed the way, wandered tothis promontory, and mistaken a troop of friends for a band of Indianmarauders?

"Either supposition was dreadful. The latter was the most plausible. Nomotives were conceivable by which one of the fugitives could be inducedto post himself here, in this conspicuous station; whereas, the roadwhich led you to the summit of the hill, to that spot where descent tothe river-road was practicable, could not be found but by those who wereaccustomed to traverse it. The directions which you had exacted fromyour hostess proved your previous unacquaintance with these tracts. 

"I acquiesced in this opinion with a heavy and desponding heart. Fatehad led us into a maze which could only terminate in the destruction ofone or of the other. By the breadth of a hair had I escaped death fromyour hand. The same fortune had not befriended you. After my tedioussearch, I had lighted on you, forlorn, bewildered, perishing with coldand hunger. Instead of recognising and affording you relief, I compelledyou to leap into the river, from a perilous height, and had desistedfrom my persecution only when I had bereaved you of life and plunged youto the bottom of the gulf. 

"My motives in coming to America were numerous and mixed. Among thesewas the parental affection with which you had inspired me. I came withfortune, and a better gift than fortune, in my hand. I intended tobestow both upon you, not only to give you competence, but one who wouldendear to you that competence, who would enhance, by participating, every gratification. 

"My schemes were now at an end. You were gone, beyond the reach of mybenevolence and justice. I had robbed your two sisters of a friend andguardian. It was some consolation to think that it was in my power tostand, with regard to them, in your place; that I could snatch them fromthe poverty, dependence, and humiliation, to which your death and thatof your uncle had reduced them. 

"I was now doubly weary of the enterprise in which I was engaged, andreturned with speed to this rendezvous. My companions have gone to knowthe state of the family who resided under this roof, and left me tobeguile the tedious moments in whatever manner I pleased. 

"I have omitted mentioning one incident that happened between thedetection of your flight and our expedition to Chetasco. Having formed aplausible conjecture as to him who walked in the long room, it wasobvious to conclude that he who purloined your manuscript, and thewalker, was the same personage. It was likewise easily inferred that theletters were secreted in the cedar chest or in some other part of theroom. Instances similar to this have heretofore occurred. Men haveemployed anxious months in search of that which, in a freak ofnoctambulation, was hidden by their own hands. 

"A search was immediately commenced, and your letters were found, carefully concealed between the rafters and shingles of the roof, in aspot where, if suspicion had not been previously excited, they wouldhave remained till the vernal rains and the summer heats had insensiblydestroyed them. This packet I carried with me, knowing the value whichyou set upon it, and there being no receptacle equally safe but your owncabinet, which was locked. 

"Having, as I said, reached this house, and being left alone, Ibethought me of the treasure I possessed. I was unacquainted with thereasons for which these papers were so precious. They probably had somemomentous and intimate connection with your own history. As such, theycould not be of little value to me, and this moment of inoccupation andregrets was as suitable as any other to the task of perusing them. Idrew them forth, therefore, and laid them on the table in this chamber. 

"The rest is known to you. During a momentary absence you entered. Surely no interview of ancient friends ever took place in so unexpectedand abrupt a manner. You were dead. I mourned for you, as one whom Iloved, and whom fate had snatched forever from my sight. Now, in ablissful hour, you had risen, and my happiness in thus embracing you istenfold greater than would have been experienced if no uncertainties andperils had protracted our meeting. "

Chapter XXVI. 

Here ended the tale of Sarsefield. Humiliation and joy were mingled inmy heart. The events that preceded my awakening in the cave were nowluminous and plain. What explication was more obvious? What but thissolution ought to have been suggested by the conduct I had witnessed inClithero?

Clithero? Was not this the man whom Clithero had robbed of his friend?Was not this the lover of Mrs. Lorimer, the object of the persecutionsof Wiatte? Was it not now given me to investigate the truth of thatstupendous tale? To dissipate the doubts which obstinately clung to myimagination respecting it?

But soft! Had not Sarsefield said that he was married? Was Mrs. Lorimerso speedily forgotten by him, or was the narrative of Clithero the webof imposture or the raving of insanity?

These new ideas banished all personal considerations from my mind. Ilooked eagerly into the face of my friend, and exclaimed, in a dubiousaccent, "How say you? Married? When? To whom?"

"Yes, Huntly, I am wedded to the most excellent of women. To her am Iindebted for happiness, and wealth, and dignity, and honour. To her do Iowe the power of being the benefactor and protector of you and yoursisters. She longs to embrace you as a son. To become truly her son willdepend upon your own choice, and that of one who was the companion ofour voyage. "

"Heavens!" cried I, in a transport of exultation and astonishment. "Ofwhom do you speak? Of the mother of Clarice? The sister of Wiatte? Thesister of the ruffian who laid snares for her life? Who pursued you andthe unhappy Clithero with the bitterest animosity?"

My friend started at these sounds as if the earth had yawned at hisfeet. His countenance was equally significant of terror and rage. Assoon as he regained the power of utterance, he spoke:--"Clithero! Curseslight upon thy lips for having uttered that detested name! Thousands ofmiles have I flown to shun the hearing of it. Is the madman here? Haveyou set eyes upon him? Does he yet crawl upon the face of the earth?Unhappy? Unparalleled, unheard-of, thankless miscreant! Has he told hisexecrable falsehoods here? Has he dared to utter names so sacred asthose of Euphemia Lorimer and Clarice?"

"He has; he has told a tale that had all the appearances of truth----"

Out upon the villain! The truth! Truth would prove him to be unnatural, devilish; a thing for which no language has yet provided a name! He hascalled himself unhappy? No doubt, a victim to injustice! Overtaken byunmerited calamity. Say! Has he fooled thee with such tales?"

"No. His tale was a catalogue of crimes and miseries of which he was theauthor and sufferer. You know not his motives, his horrors------"

"His deeds were monstrous and infernal. His motives were sordid andflagitious. To display all their ugliness and infamy was not hisprovince. No; he did not tell you that he stole at midnight to thechamber of his mistress; a woman who astonished the world by herloftiness and magnanimity, by indefatigable beneficence and unswervingequity; who had lavished on this wretch, whom she snatched from thedirt, all the goods of fortune, all the benefits of education; all thetreasures of love; every provocation to gratitude; every stimulant tojustice. 

"He did not tell you that, in recompense for every benefit, he stoleupon her sleep and aimed a dagger at her breast. There was no room forflight, or ambiguity, or prevarication. She whom he meant to murderstood near, saw the lifted weapon, and heard him confess and glory inhis purposes. 

"No wonder that the shock bereft her, for a time, of life. The intervalwas seized by the ruffian to effect his escape. The rebukes of justicewere shunned by a wretch conscious of his inexpiable guilt. These thingshe has hidden from you, and has supplied their place by a tale speciousas false. "

"No. Among the number of his crimes, hypocrisy is not to be numbered. These things are already known to me: he spared himself too little inthe narrative. The excellencies of his lady, her claims to gratitude andveneration, were urged beyond their true bounds. His attempts upon herlife were related. It is true that he desired and endeavoured to destroyher. "

"How? Has he told you this?"

"He has told me all. Alas! the criminal intention has been amplyexpiated. "

"What mean you? Whence and how came he hither? Where is he now? I willnot occupy the same land, the same world, with him. Have this woman andher daughter lighted on the shore haunted by this infernal andimplacable enemy?"

"Alas! It is doubtful whether he exists. If he lives, he is no longer tobe feared; but he lives not. Famine and remorse have utterly consumedhim. "

"Famine? Remorse? You talk in riddles. "

"He has immured himself in the desert. He has abjured the intercourse ofmankind. He has shut himself in caverns where famine must inevitablyexpedite that death for which he longs as the only solace of his woes. To no imagination are his offences blacker and more odious than to hisown. I had hopes of rescuing him from this fate, but my own infirmitiesand errors have afforded me sufficient occupation. "

Sarsefield renewed his imprecations on the memory of that unfortunateman, and his inquiries as to the circumstances that led him into thisremote district. His inquiries were not to be answered by one in mypresent condition. My languors and fatigues had now gained a pitch thatwas insupportable. The wound in my face had been chafed and inflamed bythe cold water and the bleak air; and the pain attending it would nolonger suffer my attention to stray. I sunk upon the floor, andentreated him to afford me the respite of a few hours' repose. 

He was sensible of the deplorableness of my condition, and chid himselffor the negligence of which he had already been guilty. He lifted me tothe bed, and deliberated on the mode he should pursue for my relief. Some mollifying application to my wound was immediately necessary; but, in our present lonely condition, it was not at hand. It could only beprocured from a distance. It was proper therefore to hasten to thenearest inhabited dwelling, which belonged to one by name Walton, andsupply himself with such medicines as could be found. 

Meanwhile, there was no danger of molestation and intrusion. There wasreason to expect the speedy return of those who had gone in pursuit ofthe savages. This was their place of rendezvous, and hither theyappointed to reassemble before the morrow's dawn. The distance of theneighbouring farm was small, and Sarsefield promised to be expeditious. He left me to myself and my own ruminations. 

Harassed by fatigue and pain, I had yet power to ruminate on that seriesof unparalleled events that had lately happened. I wept, but my tearsflowed from a double source: from sorrow, on account of the untimelyfate of my uncle, and from joy, that my sisters were preserved, thatSarsefield had returned and was not unhappy. 

I reflected on the untoward destiny of Clithero. Part of his calamityconsisted in the consciousness of having killed his patroness; but itnow appeared, though by some infatuation I had not previously suspected, that the first impulse of sorrow in the lady had been weakened byreflection and by time; that the prejudice persuading her that her lifeand that of her brother were to endure and to terminate together wasconquered by experience or by argument. She had come, in company withSarsefield and Clarice, to America. What influence might these eventshave upon the gloomy meditations of Clithero? Was it possible to bringthem together; to win the maniac from his solitude, wrest from him hisfatal purposes, and restore him to communion with the beings whoseimagined indignation is the torment of his life?

These musings were interrupted by a sound from below, which was easilyinterpreted into tokens of the return of those with whom Sarsefield hadparted at the promontory. Voices were confused and busy, but notturbulent. They entered the lower room, and the motion of chairs andtables showed that they were preparing to rest themselves after theirtoils. 

Few of them were unacquainted with me, since they probably wereresidents in this district. No inconvenience, therefore, would followfrom an interview, though, on their part, wholly unexpected. Besides, Sarsefield would speedily return, and none of the present visitantswould be likely to withdraw to this apartment. 

Meanwhile, I lay upon the bed, with my face turned towards the door, andlanguidly gazing at the ceiling and Walls. Just then a musket wasdischarged in the room below. The shock affected me mechanically, andthe first impulse of surprise made me almost start upon my feet. 

The sound was followed by confusion and bustle. Some rushed forth andcalled on each other to run different ways, and the words, "That ishe, "--"Stop him!" were spoken in a tone of eagerness and rage. Myweakness and pain were for a moment forgotten, and my whole attentionwas bent to discover the meaning of this hubbub. The musket which I hadbrought with me to this chamber lay across the bed. Unknowing of theconsequences of this affray with regard to myself, I was prompted, by akind of self-preserving instinct, to lay hold of the gun and prepare torepel any attack that might be made upon me. 

A few moments elapsed, when I thought I heard light footsteps in theentry leading to this room. I had no time to construe these signals, but, watching fearfully the entrance, I grasped my weapon with newforce, and raised it so as to be ready at the moment of my danger. I didnot watch long. A figure cautiously thrust itself forward. The firstglance was sufficient to inform me that this intruder was an Indian, and, of consequence, an enemy. He was unarmed. Looking eagerly on allsides, he at last spied me as I lay. My appearance threw him intoconsternation, and, after the fluctuation of an instant, he darted tothe window, threw up the sash, and leaped out upon the ground. 

His flight might have been easily arrested by my shot, but surprise, added to my habitual antipathy to bloodshed unless in cases of absolutenecessity, made me hesitate. He was gone, and I was left to mark theprogress of the drama. The silence was presently broken by firing at adistance. Three shots, in quick succession, were followed by the deepestpause. 

That the party, recently arrived, had brought with them one or morecaptives, and that by some sudden effort the prisoners had attempted toescape, was the only supposition that I could form. By wrhat motiveseither of them could be induced to seek concealment in my chamber couldnot be imagined. 

I now heard a single step on the threshold below. Some one entered thecommon room. He traversed the floor during a few minutes, and then, ascending the staircase, he entered my chamber. It was Sarsefield. Trouble and dismay were strongly written on his countenance. He seemedtotally unconscious of my presence; his eyes were fixed upon the floor, and, as he continued to move across the room, he heaved forth deepsighs. 

This deportment was mournful and mysterious. It was little in unisonwith those appearances which he wore at our parting, and must have beensuggested by some event that had since happened. My curiosity impelledme to recall him from his reverie. I rose, and, seizing him by the arm, looked at him with an air of inquisitive anxiety. It was needless tospeak. 

He noticed my movement, and, turning towards me, spoke in a tone of someresentment:--"Why did you deceive me? Did you not say Clithero wasdead?"

"I said so because it was my belief. Know you any thing to the contrary?Heaven grant that he is still alive, and that our mutual efforts mayrestore him to peace!"

"Heaven grant, " replied my friend, with a vehemence that bordered uponfury, --"Heaven grant that he may live thousands of years, and know not, in their long course, a moment's respite from remorse and from anguish!But this prayer is fruitless. He is not dead, but death hovers over him. Should he live, he will live only to defy justice and perpetrate newhorrors. My skill might perhaps save him, but a finger shall not bemoved to avert his fate. 

"Little did I think that the wretch whom my friends rescued from thepower of the savages, and brought wounded and expiring hither, wasClithero. They sent for me in haste to afford him surgical assistance. Ifound him stretched upon the floor below, deserted, helpless, andbleeding. The moment I beheld him, he was recognised. The last of evilswas to look upon the face of this assassin; but that evil is past, andshall never be endured again. 

"Rise, and come with me. Accommodation is prepared for you at Walcot's. Let us leave this house, and, the moment you are able to perform ajourney, abandon forever this district. "

I could not readily consent to this proposal. Clithero had beendelivered from captivity, but was dying for want of that aid whichSarsefield was able to afford. Was it not inhuman to desert him in thisextremity? What offence had he committed that deserved such implacablevengeance? Nothing I had heard from Sarsefield was in contradiction tohis own story. His deed, imperfectly observed, would appear to beatrocious and detestable; but the view of all its antecedent andaccompanying events and motives would surely place it in the list, notof crimes, but of misfortunes. 

But wrhat is that guilt which no penitence can expiate? Had notClithero's remorse been more than adequate to crimes far more deadly andenormous than this? This, however, was no time to argue with thepassions of Sarsefield. Nothing but a repetition of Clithero's talecould vanquish his prepossessions and mollify his rage; but thisrepetition was impossible to be given by me, till a moment of safety andcomposure. 

These thoughts made me linger, but hindered me from attempting to changethe determination of my friend. He renewed his importunities for me tofly with him. He dragged me by the arm, and, wavering and reluctant, Ifollowed where he chose to lead. He crossed the common room, withhurried steps, and eyes averted from a figure which instantly fastenedmy attention. 

It was indeed Clithero whom I now beheld, supine, polluted with blood, his eyes closed, and apparently insensible. This object was gazed atwith emotions that rooted me to the spot. Sarsefield, perceiving medetermined to remain where I was, rushed out of the house, anddisappeared. 

Chapter XXVII. 

I hung over the unhappy wretch, whose emaciated form and rueful featuressufficiently bespoke that savage hands had only completed thatdestruction which his miseries had begun. He was mangled by the tomahawkin a shocking manner, and there was little hope that human skill couldsave his life. 

I was sensible of nothing but compassion. I acted without design, when, seating myself on the floor, I raised his head and placed it on myknees. This movement awakened his attention, and, opening his eyes, hefixed them on my countenance. They testified neither insensibility, norhorror, nor distraction. A faint emotion of surprise gave way to anappearance of tranquillity. Having perceived these tokens of a stateless hopeless than I at first imagined, I spoke to him:--"My friend, howdo you feel? Can any thing be done for you?"

He answered me in a tone more firm and with Inore coherence of ideasthan previous appearances had taught me to expect. "No, " said he; "thykindness, good youth, can avail me nothing. The end of my existence hereis at hand. May my guilt be expiated by the miseries that I havesuffered, and my good deeds only attend me to the presence of my divineJudge!

"I am waiting, not with trembling or dismay, for this close of mysorrows. I breathed but one prayer, and that prayer has been answered. Iasked for an interview with thee, young man; but, feeling as I now feel, this interview, so much desired, was beyond my hope. Now thou art come, in due season, to hear the last words that I shall need to utter. 

"I wanted to assure thee that thy efforts for my benefit were notuseless. They have saved me from murdering myself, a guilt moreinexpiable than any which it was in my power to commit. 

"I retired to the innermost recess of Norwalk, and gained the summit ofa hill, by subterranean paths. This hill I knew to be on all sidesinaccessible to human footsteps, and the subterranean passages wereclosed up by stones. Here I believed my solitude exempt frominterruption, and my death, in consequence of famine, sure. 

"This persuasion was not taken away by your appearance on the oppositesteep. The chasm which severed us I knew to be impassable. I withdrewfrom your sight. 

"Some time after, awakening from a long sleep, I found victuals besideme. He that brought it was invisible. For a time, I doubted whether somemessenger of heaven had not interposed for my salvation. How other thanby supernatural means my retreat should be explored, I was unable toconceive. The summit was encompassed by dizzy and profound gulfs, andthe subterranean passages were still closed. 

"This opinion, though corrected by subsequent reflection, tended tochange the course of my desperate thoughts. My hunger, thusimportunately urged, would not abstain, and I ate of the food that wasprovided. Henceforth I determined to live, to resume the path ofobscurity and labour which I had relinquished, and wait till my Godshould summon me to retribution. To anticipate his call is only toredouble our guilt. 

"I designed not to return to Inglefield's service, but to choose someother and remoter district. Meanwhile, I had left in his possession atreasure, which my determination to die had rendered of no value, butwhich my change of resolution restored. Enclosed in a box atInglefield's w^ere the memoirs of Euphemia Lorimer, by which, in all myvicissitudes, I had been hitherto accompanied, and from which Iconsented to part only because I had refused to live. My existence wasnow to be prolonged, and this manuscript was once more to constitute thetorment and the solace of my being. 

"I hastened to Inglefield's by night. There was no need to warn him ofmy purpose. I desired that my fate should be an eternal secret to myancient master and his neighbours. The apartment containing my box waswell known, and easily accessible. 

"The box was found, but broken and rifled of its treasure. My transportsof astonishment, and indignation, and grief, yielded to the resumptionof my fatal purpose. I hastened back to the hill, and determined anew toperish. 

"This mood continued to the evening of the ensuing day. Wandering overrocks and pits, I discovered the manuscript lying under a juttingprecipice. The chance that brought it hither was not less propitious andmiraculous than that by which I had been supplied with food. It produceda similar effect upon my feelings, and, while in possession of thismanuscript, I was reconciled to the means of life. I left the mountain, and, traversing the wilderness, stopped in Chetasco. That kind ofemployment which I sought was instantly procured; but my new vocationwas scarcely assumed when a band of savages invaded our security. 

"Rambling in the desert by moonlight, I encountered these foes. Theyrushed upon me, and, after numerous wounds, which for the presentneither killed nor disabled me, they compelled me to keep pace with themin their retreat. Some hours have passed since the troop was overtakenand my liberty redeemed. Hardships, and repeated wounds, inflicted atthe moment when the invaders were surprised and slain, have brought meto my present condition. I rejoice that my course is about toterminate. "

Here the speaker was interrupted by the tumultuous entrance of the partyby whom he had been brought hither. Their astonishment at seeing mesustaining the head of the dying man may be easily conceived. Theirsurprise was more strongly excited by the disappearance of the captivewhom they had left in this apartment, bound hand and foot. It nowappeared that, of the savage troop who had adventured thus far in searchof pillage and blood, all had been destroyed but two, who had been ledhither as prisoners. On their entrance into this house, one of the partyhad been sent to Walcot's to summon Sarsefield to the aid of the woundedman, while others had gone in search of cords to secure the arms andlegs of the captives, who had hitherto been manacled imperfectly. 

The cords were brought and one of them was bound; but the other, beforethe same operation was begun upon him, broke, by a sudden effort, thefeeble ligatures by which he was at present constrained, and, seizing amusket that lay near him, fired on his enemies, and then rushed out ofdoors. All eagerly engaged in the pursuit. The savage was fleet as adeer, and finally eluded his pursuers. 

While their attention was thus engaged abroad, he that remained foundmeans to extricate his wrists and ankles from his bonds, and, betakinghimself to the stairs, escaped, as I before described, through thewindow of the room which I had occupied. They pestered me with theircuriosity and wonder, for I was known to all of them; but, waiving thediscussion of my own concerns, I entreated their assistance to carryClithero to the chamber and the bed which I had just deserted. 

I now, in spite of pain, fatigue, and watchfulness, set out to go toWalton's. Sarsefield was ready to receive me at the door, and thekindness and compassion of the family were active in my behalf. I wasconducted to a chamber and provided with suitable attendance andremedies. 

I was not unmindful of the more deplorable condition of Clithero. Iincessantly meditated on the means for his relief. His case stood inneed of all the vigilance and skill of a physician, and Sarsefield wasthe only one of that profession whose aid could be seasonablyadministered. Sarsefield, therefore, must be persuaded to bestow thisaid. 

There was but one mode of conquering his abhorrence of this man, --toprepossess my friend with the belief of the innocence of Clithero, or tosoothe him into pity by a picture of remorse and suffering. This couldbe done, and in the manner most conformable to truth, by a simplerecital of the incidents that had befallen, and by repeating theconfession which had been extorted from Clithero. 

I requested all but my friend to leave my chamber, and then, solicitinga patient hearing, began the narrative of Waldegrave's death; of thedetection of Clithero beneath the shade of the elm; of the suspicionswhich were thence produced; and of the forest interview to which thesesuspicions gave birth. I then repeated, without variation or addition, the tale which was then told. I likewise mentioned my subsequenttransactions in Norwalk, so far as they illustrated the destiny ofClithero. 

During this recital, I fixed my eyes upon the countenance of Sarsefield, and watched every emotion as it arose or declined. With the progress ofmy tale, his indignation and his fury grew less, and at length gaveplace to horror and compassion. 

His seat became uneasy; his pulse throbbed with new vehemence. When Icame to the motives which prompted the unhappy man to visit the chamberof his mistress, he started from his seat, and sometimes strode acrossthe floor in a troubled mood, and sometimes stood before me, with hisbreath almost suspended in the eagerness of his attention. When Imentioned the lifted dagger, the shriek from behind, and the apparitionthat interposed, he shuddered and drew back, as if a dagger had beenaimed at his breast. 

When the tale was done, some time elapsed in mutual and profoundsilence. My friend's thoughts were involved in a mournful andindefinable reverie. From this he at length recovered and spoke:--

"It is true. A tale like this could never be the fruit of invention, orbe invented to deceive. He has done himself injustice. His character wasspotless and fair. All his moral properties seemed to have resolvedthemselves into gratitude, fidelity, and honour. 

"We parted at the door, late in the evening, as he mentioned, and heguessed truly that subsequent reflection had induced me to return and todisclose the truth to Mrs. Lorimer. Clarice, relieved by the suddendeath of her friend, and unexpectedly by all, arrived at the same hour. 

"These tidings astonished, afflicted, and delighted the lady. Herbrother's death had been long believed by all but herself. To find herdoubts verified, and his existence ascertained, was the dearestconsolation that he ever could bestow. She was afflicted at the proofsthat had been noted of the continuance of his depravity, but she dreadedno danger to herself from his malignity or vengeance. 

"The ignorance and prepossessions of this woman were remarkable. On thissubject only she was perverse, headstrong, obstinate. Her anxiety tobenefit this archruffian occupied her whole thoughts, and allowed her notime to reflect upon the reasonings or remonstrances of others. Shecould not be prevailed on to deny herself to his visits, and I partedfrom her in the utmost perplexity. 

"A messenger came to me at midnight, entreating my immediate presence. Some disaster had happened, but of what kind the messenger was unable totell. My fears easily conjured up the image of Wiatte. Terror scarcelyallowed me to breathe. When I entered the house of Mrs. Lorimer, I wasconducted to her chamber. She lay upon the bed in a state ofstupefaction, that arose from some mental cause. Clarice sat by her, wringing her hands, and pouring forth her tears without intermission. Neither could explain to me the nature of the scene. I made inquiries ofthe servants and attendants. They merely said that the family as usualhad retired to rest, but their lady's bell rung with great violence, andcalled them in haste to her chamber, where they found her in a swoonupon the floor, and the young lady in the utmost affright andperturbation. 

"Suitable means being used, Mrs. Lorimer had, at length, recovered, butwas still nearly insensible. I went to Clithero's apartments; but he wasnot to be found, and the domestics informed me that, since he had gonewith me, he had not returned. The doors between this chamber and thecourt were open; hence, that some dreadful interview had taken place, perhaps with Wiatte, was an unavoidable conjecture. He had withdrawn, however, without committing any personal injury. 

"I need not mention my reflections upon this scene. All was tormentingdoubt and suspense, till the morning arrived, and tidings were receivedthat Wiatte had been killed in the streets. This event was antecedent tothat which had occasioned Mrs. Lorimer's distress and alarm. I nowremembered that fatal prepossession by which the lady was governed, andher frantic belief that her death and that of her brother were to fallout at the same time. Could some witness of his death have brought hertidings of it? Had he penetrated, unexpected and unlicensed, to herchamber? and were these the effects produced by the intelligence?

"Presently I knew that not only Wiatte was dead, but that Clithero hadkilled him. Clithero had not been known to return, and was nowhere to befound. He, then, was the bearer of these tidings, for none but he couldhave found access or egress without disturbing the servants. 

"These doubts were at length at an end. In a broken and confused manner, and after the lapse of some days, the monstrous and portentous truth wasdisclosed. After our interview, the lady and her daughter had retired tothe same chamber; the former had withdrawn to her closet, and the latterto bed. Some one's entrance alarmed the lady, and, coming forth after amoment's pause, the spectacle which Clithero has too faithfullydescribed presented itself. 

"What could I think? A life of uniform hypocrisy, or a sudden loss ofreason, were the only suppositions to be formed. Clithero was the parentof fury and abhorrence in my heart. In either case I started at thename. I shuddered at the image of the apostate or the maniac. 

"What? Kill the brother whose existence was interwoven with that of hisbenefactress and his friend? Then hasten to her chamber, and attempt herlife? Lift a dagger to destroy her who had been the author of his beingand his happiness?

"He that could meditate a deed like this was no longer man. An agentfrom hell had mastered his faculties. He was become the engine ofinfernal malice, against whom it was the duty of all mankind to rise upin arms and never to desist till, by shattering it to atoms, its powerto injure was taken away. 

"All inquiries to discover the place of his retreat were vain. Nowonder, methought, that he wrapped himself in the folds of impenetrablesecrecy. Curbed, checked, baffled in the midst of his career, no wonderthat he shrunk into obscurity, that he fled from justice and revenge, that he dared not meet the rebukes of that eye which, dissolving intenderness or flashing with disdain, had ever been irresistible. 

"But how shall I describe the lady's condition? Clithero she hadcherished from his infancy. He was the stay, the consolation, the prideof her life. His projected alliance with her daughter made him stillmore dear. Her eloquence was never tired of expatiating on his purityand rectitude. No wonder that she delighted in this theme, for he washer own work. His virtues were the creatures of her bounty. 

"How hard to be endured was this sad reverse! She can be tranquil, butnever more will she be happy. To promote her forgetfulness of him, Ipersuaded her to leave her country, which contained a thousand memorialsof past calamity, and which was lapsing fast into civil broils. Claricehas accompanied us, and time may effect the happiness of others by hermeans, though she can never remove the melancholy of her mother. 

"I have listened to your tale, not without compassion. What would youhave me to do? To prolong his life would be merely to protract hismisery. 

"He can never be regarded with complacency by my wife. He can never bethought of without shuddering by Clarice. Common ills are not without acure less than death, but here all remedies are vain. Consciousnessitself is the malady, the pest, of which he only is cured who ceases tothink. "

I could not but assent to this mournful conclusion: yet, though deathwas better to Clithero than life, could not some of his mistakes berectified? Euphemia Lorimer, contrary to his belief, was still alive. Hedreamed that she was dead, and a thousand evils were imagined to flowfrom that death. This death, and its progeny of ills, haunted his fancy, and added keenness to his remorse. Was it not our duty to rectify thiserror?

Sarsefield reluctantly assented to the truth of my arguments on thishead. He consented to return, and afford the dying man the consolationof knowing that the being whom he adored as a benefactor and parent hadnot been deprived of existence, though bereft of peace by his act. 

During Sarsefield's absence my mind was busy in revolving the incidentsthat had just occurred. I ruminated on the last words of Clithero. Therewas somewhat in his narrative that was obscure and contradictory. He hadleft the manuscript, which he so much and so justly prized, in hiscabinet. He entered the chamber in my absence, and found the cabinetunfastened and the manuscript gone. It was I by whom the cabinet wasopened; but the manuscript supposed to be contained in it was buried inthe earth beneath the elm. How should Clithero be unacquainted with itssituation, since none but Clithero could have dug for it this grave?

This mystery vanished when I reflected on the history of my ownmanuscript. Clithero had buried his treasure with his own hands, as minehad been secreted by myself; but both acts had been performed duringsleep. The deed was neither prompted by the will nor noticed by thesenses of him by whom it was done. Disastrous and humiliating is thestate of man! By his own hands is constructed the mass of misery anderror in which his steps are forever involved. 

Thus it was with thy friend. Hurried on by phantoms too indistinct to benow recalled, I wandered from my chamber to the desert. I plunged intosome unvisited cavern, and easily proceeded till I reached the edge of apit. There my step was deceived, and I tumbled headlong from theprecipice. The fall bereaved me of sense, and I continued breathless andmotionless during the remainder of the night and the ensuing day. 

How little cognizance have men over the actions and motives of eachother! How total is our blindness with regard to our own performances!Who would have sought me in the bowels of this mountain? Ages might havepassed away, before my bones would be discovered in this tomb by sometraveller whom curiosity had prompted to explore it. 

I was roused from these reflections by Sarsefield's return. Inquiringinto Clithero's condition, he answered that the unhappy man wasinsensible, but that, notwithstanding numerous and dreadful gashes indifferent parts of his body, it was possible that, by submitting to thenecessary treatment, he might recover. 

Encouraged by this information, I endeavoured to awaken the zeal andcompassion of my friend in Clithero's behalf. He recoiled withinvoluntary shuddering from any task which would confine him to thepresence of this man. Time and reflection, he said, might introducedifferent sentiments and feelings, but at present he could not butregard this person as a maniac, whose disease was irremediable, andwhose existence could not be protracted but to his own misery and themisery of others. 

Finding him irreconcilably averse to any scheme connected with thewelfare of Clithero, I began to think that his assistance as a surgeonwas by no means necessary. He had declared that the sufferer needednothing more than common treatment; and to this the skill of a score ofaged women in this district, furnished with simples culled from theforest, and pointed out, of old time, by Indian _leeches_, was noless adequate than that of Sarsefield. These women were ready andofficious in their charity, and none of them were prepossessed againstthe sufferer by a knowledge of his genuine story. 

Sarsefield, meanwhile, was impatient for my removal to Inglefield'shabitation, and that venerable friend was no less impatient to receiveme. My hurts were superficial, and my strength sufficiently repaired bya night's repose. Next day I went thither, leaving Clithero to the careof his immediate neighbours. 

Sarsefield's engagements compelled him to prosecute his journey intoVirginia, from which he had somewhat deviated in order to visitSolesbury. He proposed to return in less than a month, and then to takeme in his company to New York. He has treated me with paternaltenderness, and insists upon the privilege of consulting for my interestas if he were my real father. Meanwhile these views have been disclosedto Inglefield, and it is with him that I am to remain, with my sisters, until his return. 

My reflections have been various and tumultuous. They have been busy inrelation to you, to Weymouth, and especially to Clithero. The latter, polluted with gore and weakened by abstinence, fatigue, and the loss ofblood, appeared in my eyes to be in a much more dangerous condition thanthe event proved him to be. I was punctually informed of the progress ofhis cure, and proposed in a few days to visit him. The duty ofexplaining the truth, respecting the present condition of Mrs. Lorimer, had devolved upon me. By imparting this intelligence, I hoped to workthe most auspicious revolutions in his feelings, and prepared, therefore, with alacrity, for an interview. 

In this hope I was destined to be disappointed. On the morning on whichI intended to visit him, a messenger arrived from the house in which hewas entertained, and informed us that the family, on entering the sickman's apartment, had found it deserted. It appeared that Clithero had, during the night, risen from his bed and gone secretly forth. No tracesof his flight have since been discovered. 

But, oh, my friend, the death of Waldegrave, thy brother, is at lengthdivested of uncertainty and mystery. Hitherto, I had been able to formno conjecture respecting it; but the solution was found shortly afterthis time. 

Queen Mab, three days after my adventure, was seized in her hut onsuspicion of having aided and counselled her countrymen in their latedepredations. She was not to be awed or intimidated by the treatment shereceived, but readily confessed and gloried in the mischief she haddone, and accounted for it by enumerating the injuries which she hadreceived from her neighbours. 

These injuries consisted in contemptuous or neglectful treatment, and inthe rejection of groundless and absurd claims. The people of Chetascowere less obsequious to her humours than those of Solesbury, her ancientneighbourhood, and her imagination brooded for a long time over nothingbut schemes of revenge. She became sullen, irascible, and spent more ofher time in solitude than ever. 

A troop of her countrymen at length visited her hut. Their intentionsbeing hostile, they concealed from the inhabitants their presence inthis quarter of the country. Some motives induced them to withdraw andpostpone, for the present, the violence which they meditated. One ofthem, however, more sanguinary and audacious than the rest, would notdepart without some gratification of his vengeance. He left hisassociates and penetrated by night into Solesbury, resolving to attackthe first human being whom he should meet. It was the fate of thyunhappy brother to encounter this ruffian, whose sagacity made himforbear to tear away the usual trophy from the dead, lest he shouldafford grounds for suspicion as to the authors of the evil. 

Satisfied with this exploit, he rejoined his companions, and, after aninterval of three weeks, returned with a more numerous party, to executea more extensive project of destruction. They were counselled andguided, in all their movements, by Queen Mab, who now explained theseparticulars and boldly defied her oppressors. Her usual obstinacy andinfatuation induced her to remain in her ancient dwelling and prepare tomeet the consequences. 

This disclosure awakened anew all the regrets and anguish which flowedfrom that disaster. It has been productive, however, of some benefit. Suspicions and doubts, by which my soul was harassed, and which wereinjurious to the innocent, are now at an end. It is likewise someimperfect consolation to reflect that the assassin has himself beenkilled, and probably by my own hand. The shedder of blood no longerlives to pursue his vocation, and justice is satisfied. 

Thus have I fulfilled my promise to compose a minute relation of mysufferings. I remembered my duty to thee, and, as soon as I was able tohold a pen, employed it to inform thee of my welfare. I could not atthat time enter into particulars, but reserved a more copious narrativetill a period of more health and leisure. 

On looking back, I am surprised at the length to which my story has run. I thought that a few days would suffice to complete it; but one page hasinsensibly been added to another, till I have consumed weeks and filledvolumes. Here I will draw to a close; I will send you what I havewritten, and discuss with you in conversation my other immediateconcerns, and my schemes for the future. As soon as I have seenSarsefield, I will visit you. FAREWELL. E. H. 

SOLESBUEY, November 10. 

Letter I. 

_To Mr. Sarsefield. _

PHILADELPHIA. 

I came hither but ten minutes ago, and write this letter in the bar ofthe stage-house. I wish not to lose a moment in informing you of whathas happened. I cannot do justice to my own feelings when I reflect uponthe rashness of which I have been guilty. 

I will give you the particulars to-morrow. At present, I shall only saythat Clithero is alive, is apprized of your wife's arrival and abode inNew York, and has set out with mysterious intentions to visit her. 

May Heaven avert the consequences of such a design! May you be enabled, by some means, to prevent their meeting! If you cannot prevent it--but Imust not reason on such an event, nor lengthen out this letter. 

E. H. 

Letter II. 

_To the Same. _

I will now relate the particulars which I yesterday promised to sendyou. You heard through your niece of my arrival at Inglefield's, inSolesbury: my inquiries, you may readily suppose, would turn upon thefate of my friend's servant Clithero, whose last disappearance was sostrange and abrupt, and of whom, since that time, I had heard nothing. You are indifferent to his fate, and are anxious only that his existenceand misfortunes may be speedily forgotten. I confess that it is somewhatotherwise with me. I pity him; I wish to relieve him, and cannot admitthe belief that his misery is without a cure. I want to find him out. Iwant to know his condition, and, if possible, to afford him comfort andinspire him with courage and hope. 

Inglefield replied to my questions:--"Oh yes! He has appeared. Thestrange being is again upon the stage. Shortly after he left hissick-bed, I heard from Philip Beddington, of Chetasco, that Deb's hut hadfound a new tenant. At first I imagined that the Scotsman who built ithad returned; but, making closer inquiries, I found that the new tenantwas my servant. I had no inclination to visit him myself, but frequentlyinquired respecting him of those who lived or passed that way, and findthat he still lives there. "

"But how!" said I: "what is his mode of subsistence? The winter has beenno time for cultivation; and he found, I presume, nothing in theground. "

"Deb's hut, " replied my friend, "is his lodging and his place ofretirement, but food and clothing he procures by labouring on aneighbouring farm. This farm is next to that of Beddington, whoconsequently knows something of his present situation. I find little orno difference in his present deportment and those appearances which heassumed while living with me, except that he retires every night to hishut, and holds as little intercourse as possible with the rest ofmankind. He dines at his employer's table; but his supper, which isnothing but rye-bread, he carries home with him, and, at all those timeswhen disengaged from employment, he secludes himself in his hut, orwanders nobody knows whither. "

This was the substance of Inglefield's intelligence. I gleaned from itsome satisfaction. It proved the condition of Glithero to be lessdeplorable and desperate than I had previously imagined. His fatal andgloomy thoughts seemed to have somewhat yielded to tranquillity. 

In the course of my reflections, however, I could not but perceive thathis condition, though eligible when compared with what it once was, waslikewise disastrous and humiliating, compared with his youthful hopesand his actual merits. For such a one to mope away his life in thisunsocial and savage state was deeply to be deplored. It was my duty, ifpossible, to prevail on him to relinquish his scheme. And what would berequisite, for that end, but to inform him of the truth?

The source of his dejection was the groundless belief that he hadoccasioned the death of his benefactress. It was this alone that couldjustly produce remorse or grief. It was a distempered imagination bothin him and in me that had given birth to this opinion, since the termsof his narrative, impartially considered, were far from implying thatcatastrophe. To him, however, the evidence which he possessed wasincontestable. No deductions from probability could overthrow hisbelief. This could only be effected by similar and counter evidence. Toapprize him that she was now alive, in possession of some degree ofhappiness, the wife of Sarsefield, and an actual resident on this shore, would dissipate the sanguinary apparition that haunted him, cure hisdiseased intellects, and restore him to those vocations for which histalents, and that rank in society for which his education, had qualifiedhim. Influenced by these thoughts, I determined to visit his retreat. Being obliged to leave Solesbury the next day, I resolved to set out thesame afternoon, and, stopping in Chetasco for the night, seek hishabitation at the hour when he had probably retired to it. 

This was done. I arrived at Beddington's at nightfall. My inquiriesrespecting Clithero obtained for me the same intelligence from him whichI had received from Inglefield. Deb's hut was three miles from thishabitation, and thither, when the evening had somewhat advanced, Irepaired. This was the spot which had witnessed so many perils duringthe last year; and my emotions, on approaching it, were awful. Withpalpitating heart and quick steps I traversed the road, skirted on eachside by thickets, and the area before the house. The dwelling was by nomeans in so ruinous a state as when I last visited it. The cranniesbetween the logs had been filled up, and the light within wasperceivable only at a crevice in the door. 

Looking through this crevice, I perceived a fire in the chimney, but theobject of my visit was nowhere to be seen. I knocked and requestedadmission, but no answer was made. At length I lifted the latch andentered. Nobody was there. 

It was obvious to suppose that Clithero had gone abroad for a shorttime, and would speedily return; or perhaps some engagement had detainedhim at his labour later than usual. I therefore seated myself on somestraw near the fire, which, with a woollen rug, appeared to constitutehis only bed. The rude bedstead which I formerly met was gone. Theslender furniture, likewise, which had then engaged my attention, haddisappeared. There was nothing capable of human use but a heap of fagotsin the corner, which seemed intended for fuel. How slender is theaccommodation which nature has provided for man, and how scanty is theportion which our physical necessities require!

While ruminating upon this scene, and comparing past events with theobjects before me, the dull whistling of the gale without gave place tothe sound of footsteps. Presently the door opened, and Clithero enteredthe apartment. His aspect and guise were not essentially different fromthose which he wore when an inhabitant of Solesbury. 

To find his hearth occupied by another appeared to create the deepestsurprise. He looked at me without any tokens of remembrance. Hisfeatures assumed a more austere expression, and, after scowling on myperson for a moment, he withdrew his eyes, and, placing in a corner abundle which he bore in his hand, he turned and seemed preparing towithdraw. 

I was anxiously attentive to his demeanour, and, as soon as I perceivedhis purpose to depart, leaped on my feet to prevent it. I took his hand, and, affectionately pressing it, said, "Do you not know me? Have you sosoon forgotten me, who is truly your friend?"

He looked at me with some attention, but again withdrew his eyes, andplaced himself in silence on the seat which I had left. I seated myselfnear him, and a pause of mutual silence ensued. 

My mind was full of the purpose that brought me hither, but I knew notin what manner to communicate my purpose. Several times I opened my lipsto speak, but my perplexity continued, and suitable words refused tosuggest themselves. At length I said, in a confused tone, --

"I came hither with a view to benefit a man with whose misfortunes hisown lips have made me acquainted, and who has awakened in my breast thedeepest sympathy. I know the cause and extent of his dejection. I knowthe event which has given birth to horror and remorse in his heart. Hebelieves that, by his means, his patroness and benefactress has found anuntimely death. "

These words produced a visible shock in my companion, which evinced thatI had at least engaged his attention. I proceeded:--

"This unhappy lady was cursed with a wicked and unnatural brother. Sheconceived a disproportionate affection for this brother, and erroneouslyimagined that her fate was blended with his, that their lives wouldnecessarily terminate at the same period, and that, therefore, whoeverwas the contriver of his death was likewise, by a fatal and invinciblenecessity, the author of her own. 

"Clithero was her servant, but was raised by her bounty to the stationof her son and the rank of her friend. Clithero, in self-defence, tookaway the life of that unnatural brother, and, in that deed, falsely butcogently believed that he had perpetrated the destruction of hisbenefactress. 

"To ascertain the truth, he sought her presence. She was found, thetidings of her brother's death were communicated, and she sankbreathless at his feet. "

At these words Clithero started from the ground, and cast upon me looksof furious indignation. "And come you hither, " he muttered, "for thisend?--to recount my offences and drive me again to despair?"

"No, " answered I, with quickness; "I come to outroot a fatal butpowerful illusion. I come to assure you that the woman with whosedestruction you charge yourself is _not dead_. "

These words, uttered with the most emphatical solemnity, merely producedlooks in which contempt was mingled with anger. He continued silent. 

"I perceive, " resumed I, "that my words are disregarded. Would to HeavenI were able to conquer your incredulity, could show you not only thetruth but the probability of my tale! Can you not confide in me? thatEuphemia Lorimer is now alive, is happy, is the wife of Sarsefield? thather brother is forgotten and his murderer regarded without enmity orvengeance?"

He looked at me with a strange expression of contempt. "Come, " said he, at length; "make out thy assertion to be true. Fall on thy knees, andinvoke the thunder of Heaven to light on thy head if thy words be false. Swear that Euphemia Lorimer is alive; happy; forgetful of Wiatte andcompassionate of me. Swear that thou hast seen her; talked with her;received from her own lips the confession of her pity for him who aimeda dagger at her bosom. Swear that she is Sarsefield's wife. "

I put my hands together, and, lifting my eyes to heaven, exclaimed, "Icomply with your conditions. I call the omniscient God to witness thatEuphemia Lorimer is alive; that I have seen her with these eyes; havetalked with her; have inhabited the same house for months. "

These asseverations were listened to with shuddering. He laid not aside, however, an air of incredulity and contempt. "Perhaps, " said he, "thoucanst point out the place of her abode?--canst guide me to the city, thestreet, the very door of her habitation?"

"I can. She resides at this moment in the city of New York; in Broadway;in a house contiguous to the--. "

"'Tis well!" exclaimed my companion, in a tone loud, abrupt, and in theutmost degree vehement. "'Tis well! Rash and infatuated youth, thou hastratified, beyond appeal or forgiveness, thy own doom. Thou hast oncemore let loose my steps, and sent me on a fearful journey. Thou hastfurnished the means of detecting thy imposture. I will fly to the spotwhich thou describest. I will ascertain thy falsehood with my own eyes. If she be alive, then am I reserved for the performance of a new crime. My evil destiny will have it so. If she be dead, I shall make theeexpiate. "

So saying, he darted through the door, and was gone in a moment beyondmy sight and my reach. I ran to the road, looked on every side, andcalled; but my calls were repeated in vain. He had fled with theswiftness of a deer. 

My own embarrassment, confusion, and terror were inexpressible. His lastwords were incoherent. They denoted the tumult and vehemence of frenzy. They intimated his resolution to seek the presence of your wife. I hadfurnished a clue which could not fail to conduct him to her presence. What might not be dreaded from the interview? Clithero is a maniac. Thistruth cannot be concealed. Your wife can with difficulty preserve hertranquillity when his image occurs to her remembrance. What must it bewhen he starts up before her in his neglected and ferocious guise, andarmed with purposes perhaps as terrible as those which had formerly ledhim to her secret chamber and her bedside?

His meaning was obscurely conveyed. He talked of a deed for theperformance of which his malignant fate had reserved him, which was toensue their meeting, and which was to afford disastrous testimony of theinfatuation which had led me hither. 

Heaven grant that some means may suggest themselves to you ofintercepting his approach! Yet I know not what means can be conceived. Some miraculous chance may befriend you; yet this is scarcely to behoped. It is a visionary and fantastic base on which to rest oursecurity. 

I cannot forget that my unfortunate temerity has created this evil. Yetwho could foresee this consequence of my intelligence? I imagined thatClithero was merely a victim of erroneous gratitude, a slave of theerrors of his education and the prejudices of his rank; that hisunderstanding was deluded by phantoms in the mask of virtue and duty, and not, as you have strenuously maintained, utterly subverted. 

I shall not escape your censure, but I shall, likewise, gain yourcompassion. I have erred, not through sinister or malignant intentions, but from the impulse of misguided, indeed, but powerful, benevolence. 

Letter III. 

_To Edgar Huntly_. 

NEW YORK. 

EDGAR:--

After the fatigues of the day, I returned home. As I entered, my wifewas breaking the seal of a letter; but, on seeing me, she forbore, andpresented the letter to me. 

"I saw, " said she, "by the superscription of this letter, who the writerwas. So, agreeably to your wishes, I proceeded to open it; but you havecome just time enough to save me the trouble. "

This letter was from you. It contained information relative to Clithero. See how imminent a chance it was that saved my wife from a knowledge ofits contents! It required all my efforts to hide my perturbation fromher and excuse myself from showing her the letter. 

I know better than you the character of Clithero, and the consequencesof a meeting between him and my wife. You may be sure that I would exertmyself to prevent a meeting. 

The method for me to pursue was extremely obvious. Clithero is a madman, whose liberty is dangerous, and who requires to be fettered andimprisoned as the most atrocious criminal. 

I hastened to the chief-magistrate, who is my friend, and, by properrepresentations, obtained from him authority to seize Clithero whereverI should meet with him, and effectually debar him from the perpetrationof new mischiefs. 

New York does not afford a place of confinement for lunatics as suitableto his case as Pennsylvania. I was desirous of placing him as far aspossible from the place of my wife's residence. Fortunately, there was apacket for Philadelphia on the point of setting out on her voyage. Thisvessel I engaged to wait a day or two, for the purpose of conveying himto Pennsylvania Hospital. Meanwhile, proper persons were stationed atPowles Hook, and at the quays where the various stage-boats from Jerseyarrive. 

These precautions were effectual. Not many hours after the receipt ofyour intelligence, this unfortunate man applied for a passage atElizabethtown, was seized the moment he set his foot on shore, and wasforthwith conveyed to the packet, which immediately set sail. 

I designed that all these proceedings should be concealed from thewomen, but unfortunately neglected to take suitable measures forhindering the letter, which you gave me reason to expect on the ensuingday, from coming into their hands. It was delivered to my wife in myabsence, and opened immediately by her. 

You know what is, at present, her personal condition. You know whatstrong reasons I had to prevent any danger or alarm from approachingher. Terror could not assume a shape more ghastly than this. The effectshave been what might have been easily predicted. Her own life has beenimminently endangered, and an untimely birth has blasted my fondesthope. Her infant, with whose future existence so many pleasures wereentwined, is dead. 

I assure you, Edgar, my philosophy has not found itself lightsome andactive under this burden. I find it hard to forbear commenting on yourrashness in no very mild terms. You acted in direct opposition to mycounsel and to the plainest dictates of propriety. Be more circumspectand more obsequious for the future. 

You knew the liberty that would be taken of opening my letters; you knewof my absence from home during the greatest part of the day, and thelikelihood, therefore, that your letters would fall into my wife's handsbefore they came into mine. These considerations should have promptedyou to send them under cover to Whitworth or Harvey, with directions togive them immediately to me. 

Some of these events happened in my absence; for I determined toaccompany the packet myself, and see the madman safely delivered to thecare of the hospital. 

I will not torture your sensibility by recounting the incidents of hisarrest and detention. You will imagine that his strong but pervertedreason exclaimed loudly against the injustice of his treatment. It waseasy for him to out-reason his antagonist, and nothing but force couldsubdue his opposition. On me devolved the province of his jailer and histyrant, --a province which required a heart more steeled by spectacles ofsuffering and the exercise of cruelty than mine had been. 

Scarcely had we passed the Narrows, when the lunatic, being suffered towalk the deck, (as no apprehensions were entertained of his escape insuch circumstances, ) threw himself overboard, with a seeming intentionto gain the shore. The boat was immediately manned; the fugitive waspursued; but, at the moment when his flight was overtaken, he forcedhimself beneath the surface, and was seen no more. 

With the life of this wretch, let our regrets and our forebodingsterminate. He has saved himself from evils for which no time would haveprovided a remedy, from lingering for years in the noisome dungeon of ahospital. Having no reason to continue my voyage, I put myself on boarda coasting-sloop, and regained this city in a few hours. I persuademyself that my wife's indisposition will be temporary. It was impossibleto hide from her the death of Clithero, and its circumstances. May thisbe the last arrow in the quiver of adversity! Farewell.