 CHAPTER V It was in one of the lucid intervals, as I may term them, that occurred during this period, that a peasant was brought before him in his character of a justice of peace, upon an accusation of having murdered his fellow. As Mr. Falkland had by this time acquired the repute of a melancholy valitudinarian, it is probable he would not have been called upon to act in his official character upon the present occasion had it not been that two or three of the neighbouring justices were all of them from home at once, so that he was the only one to be found in a circuit of many miles. The reader, however, must not imagine, though I have employed the word insanity in describing Mr. Falkland's symptoms, that he was by any means reckoned for a madman by the generality of those who had occasion to observe him. It is true that his behaviour, at certain times, was singular and unaccountable. But then, at other times, there was in it so much dignity, regularity, and economy. He knew so well how to command and make himself respected. His actions and carriage were so condescending, considerate and benevolent, that, far from having forfeited the esteem of the unfortunate or the many, they were loud and earnest in his praises. I was present at the examination of this peasant. The moment I heard of the errand which had brought this rabble of visitors, a sudden thought struck me. I conceived the possibility of rendering the incident subordinate to the great inquiry which drank up all the currents of my soul. I said this man is arraigned of murder, and murder is the master key that wakes distemper in the mind of Mr. Falkland. I will watch him without remission. I will trace all the mazes of his thought. Surely at such a time his secret anguish must betray itself. Surely if it be not my own fault, I shall now be able to discover the state of his plea before the tribunal of unerring justice. I took my station in a manner most favourable to the object upon which my mind was intent. I could perceive in Mr. Falkland's features, as he entered, a strong reluctance to the business in which he was engaged, but there was no possibility of retreating. His countenance was embarrassed and anxious. He scarcely saw anybody. The examination had not proceeded far before he chanced to turn his eye to the part of the room where I was. It happened, in this, as in some preceding instances, we exchanged a silent look by which we told volumes to each other. Mr. Falkland's complexion turned from red to pale, and from pale to red. I perfectly understood his feelings, and would willingly have withdrawn myself. But it was impossible. My passions were too deeply engaged. I was rooted to the spot, though my own life, that of my master, or almost of a whole nation had been at stake, I had no power to change my position. A first surprise, however, having subsided, Mr. Falkland assumed a look of determined constancy, and even seemed to increase in self-possession, much beyond what could have been expected from his first entrance. This he could probably have maintained, had it not been that the scene, instead of being permanent, was in some sort perpetually changing. The man who was brought before him was vehemently accused by the brother of the deceased, as having acted from the most rooted malice. He swore that there had been an old grudge between the parties, and related several instances of it. He affirmed that the murderer had sought the earliest opportunity of wreaking his revenge, had struck the first blow, and, though the contest was in appearance only a common boxing match, had watched the occasion of giving a fatal stroke, which was followed by the instant death of his antagonist. While the accuser was giving in his evidence, the accused discovered every token of the most poignant sensibility. At one time his features were convulsed with anguish. Tears unbidden trickled down his manly cheeks. And at another he started with apparent astonishment at the unfavorable turn that was given to the narrative, though without betraying any impatience to interrupt. I never saw a man less ferocious in his appearance. He was tall, well-made, and comely. His countenance was ingenuous and benevolent, without folly. By his side stood a young woman, his sweetheart, extremely agreeable in her person and her looks, testifying how deeply she interested herself in the fate of her lover. The accidental spectators were divided, between indignation against the enormity of the supposed criminal and compassion for the poor girl that accompanied him. They seemed to take little notice of the favorable appearances visible in the person of the accused till, in the sequel, those appearances were more forcibly suggested to their attention. For Mr. Falkland he was at one moment engrossed by curiosity and earnestness to investigate the tale, while at another he betrayed a sort of revulsion of sentiment, which made the investigation too painful for him to support. When the accused was called upon for his defense, he readily owned the misunderstanding that had existed, and that the deceased was the worst enemy he had in the world. Indeed he was his only enemy, and he could not tell the reason that had made him so. He had employed every effort to overcome his animosity, but in vain. The deceased had, upon all occasions, sought to mortify him, and do him an ill turn. But he had resolved never to be engaged in a broil with him, and till this day he had succeeded. If he had met with a misfortune with any other man, people at least might have thought it accident. But now it would always be believed that he had acted from secret malice and a bad heart. The fact was that he and his sweetheart had gone to a neighbouring fair where this man had met them. The man had often tried to affront him, and his passiveness, interpreted into cowardice, had perhaps encouraged the other to additional rudeness. Finding that he had endured trivial insults to himself with an even temper, the deceased now thought proper to turn his brutality upon the young woman that accompanied him. He pursued them. He endeavoured in various manners to harass and vex them. They had sought, in vain, to shake him off. The young woman was considerably terrified. The accused expostulated with their persecutor, and asked him how he could be so barbarous as to persist in frightening a woman. He replied with an insulting tone. Then the woman should find someone able to protect her. People that encouraged and trusted to such a thief as that deserved no better. The accused tried every expedient he could invent. At length he could endure it no longer. He became exasperated and challenged the assailant. The challenge was accepted, a ring was formed. He confided the care of his sweetheart to a bystander. And unfortunately the first blow he struck proved fatal. The accused added that he did not care what became of him. He had been anxious to go through the world in an inoffensive manner, and now he had the guilt of blood upon him. He did not know but it would be kindness in them to hang him out of the way, for his conscience would reproach him as long as he lived. And the figure of the deceased, as he had lain senseless and without motion at his feet, would perpetually haunt him. The thought of this man, at one moment full of life and vigor, and the next, lifted a helpless corpse from the ground, and all owing to him, was a thought too dreadful to be endured. He had loved the poor maiden, who had been the innocent occasion of this, with all his heart. But from this time he should never support the sight of her. The sight would bring a tribe of fiends in its rear. One unlucky minute had poisoned all his hopes, and made life a burden to him. During this his countenance fell, the muscles of his face trembled with agony, and he looked the statue of despair. This was the story of which Mr. Falkland was called upon to be the auditor. Though the incidents were, for the most part, wide of those which belonged to the adventures of the preceding volume, and there had been much less policy and skill displayed on either part in this rustic encounter, yet there were many points which, to a man who bore the former strongly in his recollection, suggested a sufficient resemblance. In each case it was a human brute persisting in a course of hostility to a man of benevolent character, and suddenly and terribly cut off in the midst of his career. These points perpetually smote upon the heart of Mr. Falkland. He at one time started with astonishment, and at another shifted his posture like a man who is unable longer to endure the sensations that press upon him. Then he knew strung his nerves to stubborn patience. I could see, while his muscles preserved an inflexible steadiness, tears of anguish roll down his cheeks. He dared not trust his eyes to glance towards the side of the room where I stood, and this gave an air of embarrassment to his whole figure. But when the accused came to speak of his feelings, to describe the depth of his compunction for an involuntary fault, he could endure it no longer. He suddenly rose, and with every mark of horror and despair rushed out of the room. This circumstance made no material difference in the affair of the accused. The parties were detained about half an hour. Mr. Falkland had already heard the material parts of the evidence in person. At the expiration of that interval he sent for Mr. Collins out of the room. The story of the culprit was confirmed by many witnesses who had seen the transaction. Word was brought that my master was indisposed, and at the same time the accused was ordered to be discharged. The vengeance of the brother, however, as I afterwards found, did not rest here, and he met with a magistrate, more scrupulous or more despotic, by whom the culprit was committed for trial. This affair was no sooner concluded than I hastened into the garden and plunged into the deepest of its thickets. My mind was full almost to bursting. I no longer conceived myself sufficiently removed from all observation, than my thoughts forced their way spontaneously to my tongue, and I exclaimed in a fit of uncontrollable enthusiasm. This is the murderer. The Hawkins' is were innocent, I am sure of it. I will pledge my life for it. It is out, it is discovered, guilty upon my soul. Until I thus proceeded with hasty steps along the most secret paths of the garden, and from time to time gave vent to the tumult of my thoughts in involuntary exclamations, I felt as if my animal system had undergone a total revolution. My blood boiled within me. I was conscious to a kind of rapture for which I could not account. I was solemn yet full of rapid emotion, burning with indignation and energy. In the very tempest and hurricane of the passions I seemed to enjoy the most soul-ravishing calm. I cannot better express the then state of my mind than by saying, I was never so perfectly alive as at that moment. This state of mental elevation continued for several hours, but at length subsided, and gave place to more deliberate reflection. One of the first questions that then occurred was, What shall I do with the knowledge I have been so eager to acquire? I had no inclination to turn in former. I felt what I had had no previous conception of, that it was possible to love a murderer, and as I then understood it, the worst of murderers. I conceived it to be in the highest degree absurd and iniquitous, to cut off a man qualified for the most essential and extensive utility merely out of retrospect to an act which, whatever were its merits, could not be retrieved. This thought led me to another which had at first passed unnoticed. If I had been disposed to turn in former, what had occurred amounted to no evidence that was admissible in a court of justice? Well, then, added I, if it be such as would not be admitted at a criminal tribunal, am I sure it is such as I ought to admit? There were twenty persons besides myself present at the scene from which I pretend to derive such entire conviction. Not one of them saw it in the light that I did. It either appeared to them a casual and unimportant circumstance, or they thought it sufficiently accounted for by Mr. Falkland's infirmity and misfortunes. Did it really contain such an extent of arguments and application that nobody but I was discerning enough to see? But all this reasoning produced no alteration in my way of thinking. For this time I could not get it out of my mind for a moment. Mr. Falkland is the murderer. He is guilty. I see it. I feel it. I am sure of it. Thus was I hurried along by an uncontrollable destiny. The state of my passions in their progressive career, the inquisitiveness and impatience of my thoughts, appeared to make this determination unavoidable. An incident occurred while I was in the garden that seemed to make no impression upon me at the time, but which I recollected when my thoughts were got into somewhat of a slower motion. In the midst of one of my paroxysms of exclamation, and when I thought myself most alone, the shadow of a man as avoiding me passed transiently by me at a small distance. Though I had scarcely caught a faint glimpse of his person, there was something in the occurrence that persuaded me it was Mr. Falkland. I shuddered at the possibility of his having overheard the words of my soliloquy. But this idea, alarming as it was, had not power immediately to suspend the career of my reflections. Subsequent circumstances, however, brought back the apprehension to my mind. I had scarcely a doubt of its reality when dinnertime came, and Mr. Falkland was not to be found. Supper and bedtime passed in the same manner. The only conclusion made by his servants upon this circumstance was that he was gone upon one of his accustomed melancholy rambles. The period at which my story is now arrived seemed as if it were the very crisis of the fortune of Mr. Falkland. Incident followed upon incident in a kind of breathless succession. About nine o'clock the next morning an alarm was given that one of the chimneys of the house was on fire. No accident could be apparently more trivial, but presently it blazed with such fury as to make it clear that some beam of the house, which in the first building had been improperly placed, had been reached by the flames. Some danger was apprehended for the whole edifice. The confusion was the greater in consequence of the absence of the master, as well as of Mr. Collins, the steward. While some of the domestics were employed in endeavouring to extinguish the flames, it was thought proper that others should busy themselves in removing the most valuable movables to a lawn in the garden. I took some command in the affair, to which indeed my station in the family seemed to entitle me, and for which I was judged qualified by my understanding and mental resources. Having given some general directions I conceived that it was not enough to stand by and superintend, but that I should contribute my personal labour in the public concern. I set out for that purpose, and my steps, by some mysterious fatality, were directed to the private apartment at the end of the library. Here as I looked round, my eye was suddenly caught by the trunk mentioned in the first pages of my narrative. My mind was already raised to its utmost pitch. In a window-seat of the room lay a number of chisels and other carpenters' tools. I know not what infatuation instantaneously seized me. The idea was too powerful to be resisted. I forgot the business upon which I came, the employment of the servants, and the urgency of general danger. I should have done the same if the flames that seemed to extend as they proceeded and already surmounted the house had reached this very apartment. I snatched a tool suitable for the purpose, threw myself upon the ground, and applied with eagerness to a magazine which enclosed all for which my heart panted. After two or three efforts, in which the energy of uncontrollable passion was added to my bodily strength, the fastenings gave way, the trunk opened, and all that I sought was at once within my reach. I was in the act of lifting up the lid, when Mr. Falkland entered, wild, breathless, distracted in his looks. He had been brought home from a considerable distance by the sight of the flames. At the moment of his appearance the lid dropped down from my hand. He no sooner saw me than his eyes emitted sparks of rage. He ran with eagerness to a brace of loaded pistols which hung in the room, and, seizing one, presented it to my head. I saw his design, and sprang to avoid it. But with the same rapidity with which he had formed his resolution he changed it, and instantly went to the window and flung the pistol into the court below. He bade me begone with his usual irresistible energy, and overcome as I was already by the horror of the detection. I eagerly complied. A moment after a considerable part of the chimney tumbled with noise into the court below, and a voice exclaimed that the fire was more violent than ever. These circumstances seemed to produce a mechanical effect upon my patron, who, having first locked the closet, appeared on the outside of the house, ascended the roof, and was in a moment in every place where his presence was required. The flames were at length extinguished. The reader can, with difficulty, form a conception of the state to which I was now reduced. My act was in some sort an act of insanity. But how undescribable are the feelings with which I looked back upon it? It was an instantaneous impulse, a short lived and passing alienation of mind. But what must Mr. Falkland think of that alienation? To any man a person who had once shown himself capable of so wild a flight of the mind must appear dangerous. How must he appear to a man under Mr. Falkland's circumstances? I had just had a pistol held to my head, by a man resolved to put a period to my existence. That indeed was past. But what was it that fate had yet in reserve for me? The insatiable vengeance of a Falkland, of a man whose hands were, to my apprehension, red with blood, and his thoughts familiar with cruelty and murder. How great were the resources of his mind? As henceforth to be confederated for my destruction. This was the termination of an ungoverned curiosity, an impulse that I had represented to myself as so innocent or so venial. In the high tide of boiling passion I had overlooked all consequences. It now appeared to me like a dream. Is it in man to leap from the high raised precipice or rush unconcerned into the midst of flames? Was it possible I could have forgotten for a moment the all-creating manners of Falkland, and the inexorable fury I should awake in his soul? No thought of future security had reached my mind. I had acted upon no plan. I had conceived no means of concealing my deed after it had once been affected. But it was over now. One short minute had affected a reverse in my situation. The suddenness of which the history of man, perhaps, is unable to surpass. I have always been at a loss to account for my having plunged thus headlong into an act so monstrous. There is something in it of unexplained and involuntary sympathy. One sentiment flows, by necessity of nature, into another sentiment of the same general character. This was the first instance in which I had witnessed a danger by fire. All was confusion around me, and all changed into hurricane within. The general situation, to my unpractised apprehension, appeared desperate, and I, by contagion, became alike desperate. At first I had been in some degree calm and collected, but that, too, was a desperate effort. And when it gave way, a kind of instant insanity became its successor. I had now everything to fear. And yet what was my fault? It proceeded from none of those errors which are justly held up to the aversion of mankind. My object had been neither wealth, nor the means of indulgence, nor the usurpation of power. No spark of malignity had harboured in my soul. I had always reverenced the sublime mind of Mr. Falkland. I reverenced it still. My offence had merely been a mistake and thirst of knowledge. Such, however it was, as to admit neither of forgiveness nor remission. This epoch was the crisis of my fate, dividing what may be called the offensive part from the defensive, which has been the sole business of my remaining years. Alas! my offence was short, not aggravated by any sinister intention. But the reprisals I was to suffer are long, and can terminate only with my life. In the state in which I found myself, when the recollection of what I had done flowed back upon my mind, I was incapable of any resolution. All was chaos and uncertainty within me. My thoughts were too full of horror to be susceptible of activity. I felt deserted of my intellectual powers, palsied in mind, and compelled to sit in speechless expectation of the misery to which I was destined. To my own conception I was like a man, who, though blasted with lightning and deprived forever of the power of motion, should yet retain the consciousness of his situation, with dealing despair was the only idea of which I was sensible. I was still in this situation of mind when Mr. Falkland sent for me. His message roused me from my trance. In recovering I felt those sickening and loathsome sensations, which a man may be supposed at first to endure, who should return from the sleep of death. Finally I recovered the power of arranging my ideas and directing my steps. I understood that the minute the affair of the fire was over Mr. Falkland had retired to his own room. It was evening before he ordered me to be called. I found in him every token of extreme distress, except that there was an air of solemn and sad composure that crowned the whole. For the present all appearance of gloom, stateliness, and austerity was gone. As I entered he looked up, and seeing who it was ordered me to bolt the door. I obeyed. He went round the room and examined its other avenues. He then returned to where I stood. I trembled in every joint of my frame. I exclaimed within myself, What scene of death has Roshias now to act? Williams, said he, in a tone which had more in it of sorrow than resentment. I have attempted your life. I am a wretch devoted to the scorn and execration of mankind. There he stopped. If there be one being on the whole earth that feels the scorn and execration due to such a wretch, more strongly than another, it is myself. I have been kept in a state of perpetual torture and madness, but I can put an end to it and its consequences, and so far at least as relates to you I am determined to do it. I know the price and I will make the purchase. You must swear, said he, you must attest every sacrament, divine and human, never to disclose what I am now to tell you. He dictated the oath, and I repeated it with an aching heart. I had no power to offer a word of remark. This confidence, said he, is of your seeking, not of mine. It is odious to me, and is dangerous to you. Having thus prefaced the disclosure he had to make, he paused. He seemed to collect himself as for an effort of magnitude. He wiped his face with his handkerchief. The moisture that incommodated him appeared not to be tears, but sweat. Look at me, observe me. Is it not strange that such a one as I should retain liniments of a human creature? I am the blackest of villains. I am the murderer of Tyrell. I am the assassin of the Hawkinses. I started with terror and was silent. What a story is mine! Insulted, disgraced, polluted in the face of hundreds, I was capable of any act of desperation. I watched my opportunity, followed Mr. Tyrell from the rooms, seized a sharp pointed knife that fell in my way, came behind him and stabbed him to the heart. My gigantic oppressor rolled at my feet. All are but links of one chain, a blow, a murder. My next business was to defend myself, to tell so well digested a lie as that all mankind should believe it true. Never was a task so harrowing and intolerable. Well, thus far Fortune favoured me. She favoured me beyond my desire. The guilt was removed from me and cast upon another. But this I was to endure. Whence came the circumstantial evidence against him, the broken knife and the blood, I am unable to tell. I suppose by some miraculous accident Hawkins was passing by and endeavored to assist his oppressor in the agonies of death. You have heard his story. You have read one of his letters. But you do not know the thousandth part of the proofs of his simple and unalterable rectitude that I have known. His son suffered with him. That son, for the sake of whose happiness and virtue he ruined himself, and would have died a hundred times. I have had feelings, but I cannot describe them. This it is to be a gentleman, a man of honour. I was the fool of fame. My virtue, my honesty, my everlasting peace of mind were cheap sacrifices to be made at the shrine of this divinity. But what is worse, there is nothing that has happened that has in any degree contributed to my cure. I am as much the fool of fame as ever. I cling to it to my last breath. Though I be the blackest of villains, I will leave behind me a spotless and illustrious name. There is no crime so malignant, no scene of blood so horrible, in which that object cannot engage me. It is no matter that I regard these things at a distance with aversion. I am sure of it. Bring me to the test, and I shall yield. I despise myself, but thus I am. Things are gone too far to be recalled. Why is it that I am compelled to this confidence? From the love of fame. I should tremble at the sight of every pistol or instrument of death that offered itself to my hands. And perhaps my next murder may not be so fortunate as those I have already committed. I had no alternative but to make you my confident or my victim. It was better to trust you with the whole truth under every seal of secrecy, than to live in perpetual fear of your penetration or your rashness. Do you know what it is you have done? To gratify a foolishly inquisitive humour you have sold yourself. You shall continue in my service, but can never share my affection. I will benefit you in respect of fortune, but I shall always hate you. If ever an unguarded word escape from your lips, if ever you excite my jealousy or suspicion, expect to pay for it by your death or worse. It is a dear bargain you have made, but it is too late to look back. I charge and adjure you by everything that is sacred and that is tremendous. Preserve your faith. My tongue has now, for the first time for several years, spoken the language of my heart, and the intercourse from this hour shall be shut for ever. I want no pity, a desire no consolation. Surrounded as I am with horrors, I will at least preserve my fortitude to the last. If I had been reserved to a different destiny, I have qualities in that respect worthy of a better cause. I can be mad, miserable and frantic, but even in frenzy I can preserve my presence of mind and discretion. Such was the story I had been so desirous to know. Though my mind had brooded upon the subject for months, there was not a syllable of it that did not come to my ear with the most perfect sense of novelty. Mr. Falkland is a murderer, said I, as I retired from the conference. This dreadful appellative—a murderer—made my very blood run cold within me. He killed Mr. Terrell, for he could not control his resentment and anger. He sacrificed Hawkins the elder, and Hawkins the younger, because he could upon no terms endure the public loss of honour. How can I expect that a man thus passionate and unrelenting will not sooner or later make me his victim? But notwithstanding this terrible application of the story, an application to which perhaps in some form or other mankind are indebted for nine-tenths of their abhorrence against vice, I could not help occasionally recurring to reflections of an opposite nature. Mr. Falkland is a murderer, resumed I. He might yet be a most excellent man, if he did but think so. It is the thinking ourselves vicious, then, that principally contributes to make us vicious. Since to the shock I received from finding what I had never suffered myself constantly to believe, that my suspicions were true, I still discovered new cause of admiration for my master. His menaces, indeed, were terrible. But when I recollected the offence I had given, so contrary to every received principle of civilised society, so insolent and rude, so intolerable to a man of Mr. Falkland's elevation, and in Mr. Falkland's peculiarity of circumstances, I was astonished at his forbearance. There were indeed sufficiently obvious reasons why he might not choose to proceed to extremities with me. But how different from the fearful expectations I had conceived were the calmness of his behaviour, and the regulated mildness of his language. In this respect I, for a short time, imagined that I was emancipated from the mischiefs which had appalled me, and that, in having to do with a man of Mr. Falkland's liberality, I had nothing rigorous to apprehend. It is a miserable prospect, said I, that he holds up to me. He imagines that I am restrained by no principles, and deaf to the claims of personal excellence. But he shall find himself mistaken. I will never become an informer. I will never injure my patron, and therefore he will not be my enemy. With all his misfortunes and all his errors I feel that my soul yearns for his welfare. If he have been criminal, that is owing to circumstances. The same qualities under other circumstances would have been, or rather were, sublimely beneficent. My reasonings were, no doubt, infinitely more favourable to Mr. Falkland than those which human beings are accustomed to make in the case of such as they style great criminals. This will not be wondered at, when it is considered that I had, myself, just been trampling on the established boundaries of obligation, and therefore might well have a fellow feeling for other offenders. Add to which I had known Mr. Falkland from the first as a beneficent divinity. I had observed at leisure, and with a minuteness which could not deceive me, the excellent qualities of his heart, and I found him possessed of a mind beyond comparison the most fertile and accomplished I had ever known. But though the terrors which had impressed me were considerably alleviated, my situation was notwithstanding sufficiently miserable. The ease and light-heartedness of my youth were forever gone. The voice of an irresistible necessity had commanded me to sleep no more. I was tormented with a secret of which I must never disburden myself, and this consciousness was, at my age, a source of perpetual melancholy. I had made myself a prisoner in the most intolerable sense of that term for years, perhaps for the rest of my life. Though my prudence and discretion should be invariable, I must remember that I should have an overseer vigilant from conscious guilt, full of resentment at the unjustifiable means by which I had extorted from him a confession, and whose lightest caprice might, at any time, decide upon every thing that was dear to me. The vigilance even of a public and systematical despotism is poor, compared with a vigilance which is thus goaded by the most anxious passions of the soul. Against this species of persecution I knew not how to invent a refuge. I dared neither fly from the observation of Mr. Falkland, nor continue exposed to its operation. I was at first indeed lulled in a certain degree to security upon the verge of the precipice. But it was not long before I found a thousand circumstances perpetually reminding me of my true situation. Those I am now to relate are among the most memorable. CHAPTER VII In no long time after the disclosure Mr. Falkland had made, Mr. Forrester, his elder brother by the mother's side, came to reside for a short period in our family. This was a circumstance peculiarly adverse to my patron's habits and inclinations. He had broken off, as I have already said, all intercourse of visiting with his neighbours. He debarred himself every kind of amusement and relaxation. He shrunk from the society of his fellows, and thought he could never be sufficiently buried in obscurity and solitude. This principle was, in most cases, of no difficult execution to a man of firmness. But Mr. Falkland knew not how to avoid the visit of Mr. Forrester. This gentleman was just returned from a residence of several years upon the Continent, and his demand of an apartment in the house of his half-brother, till his own house at the distance of thirty miles should be prepared for his reception, was made with an air of confidence that scarcely admitted of a refusal. Mr. Falkland could only allege that the state of his health and spirits was such that he feared a residence at his house would be little agreeable to his kinsmen, and Mr. Forrester conceived that this was a disqualification which would always augment in proportion as it was tolerated, and hoped that his society, by inducing Mr. Falkland to suspend his habits of seclusion, would be the means of essential benefit. Mr. Falkland opposed him no further. He would have been sorry to be thought unkind to a kinsman for whom he had a particular esteem, and the consciousness of not daring to assign the true reason made him cautious of adhering to his objection. The character of Mr. Forrester was, in many respects, the reverse of that of my master. His very appearance indicated the singularity of his disposition. His figure was short and angular. His eyes were sunk far into his head, and were overhung with eyebrows, black, thick, and bushy. His complexion was swarthy, and his lineaments hard. He had seen much of the world, but to judge of him from his appearance and manners one would have thought that he had never moved from his fireside. His temper was acid, petulant, and harsh. He was easily offended by trifles, respecting which, previously to the offence, the persons with whom he had intercourse could have no suspicion of such a result. When offended, his customary behaviour was exceedingly rugged. He thought only of setting the delinquent right and humbling him for his error, and in his eagerness to do this overlooked the sensibility of the sufferer and the pains he inflicted. Remonstrance in such a case he regarded as the offspring of cowardice, which was to be extirpated with a steady and unshrinking hand, and not soothed with misjudging kindness and indulgence. As is usual in human character, he had formed a system of thinking to suit the current of his feelings. He held that the kindness we entertain for a man should be veiled and concealed, exerted in substantial benefits, but not disclosed, lest an undue advantage should be taken of by its object. With this rugged outside Mr. Forester had a warm and generous heart. At first sight all men were deterred by his manner, and excited to give him an ill character. But the longer any one knew him, the more they approved him. His harshness was then only considered as habit, and strong sense and active benevolence were uppermost in the recollection of his familiar acquaintance. His conversation, when he condescended to lay aside his snappish, rude and abrupt half-sentences, became flowing in diction and uncommonly amusing with regard to its substance. He combined, with weightiness of expression, a dryness of characteristic humour that demonstrated at once the vividness of his observation and the force of his understanding. The peculiarities of this gentleman's character were not undisplayed in the scene to which he was now introduced. Having much kindness in his disposition he soon became deeply interested in the unhappiness of his relation. He did everything in his power to remove it, but his attempts were rude and unskillful. With a mind so accomplished and a spirit so susceptible as that of Mr. Falkland, Mr. Forrester did not venture to let loose his usual violence of manner. But if he carefully abstained from harshness, he was, however, wholly incapable of that sweet and liquid eloquence of the soul, which would perhaps have stood the fairest chance of seducing Mr. Falkland for a moment to forget his anguish. He exhorted his host to rouse up his spirit and defy the foul fiend. But the tone of his exhortations found no sympathetic chord in the mind of my patron. He had not the skill to carry conviction to an understanding so well fortified in error. In a word, after a thousand efforts of kindness to his entertainer, he drew off his forces, growling and dissatisfied with his own impotence, rather than angry at the obstinacy of Mr. Falkland. He felt no diminution of his affection for him, and was sincerely grieved to find that he was so little capable of serving him. Both parties, in this case, did justice to the merits of the other, at the same time that the disparity of their humours was such as to prevent the stranger from being in any degree a dangerous companion to the master of the house. They had scarcely one point of contact in their characters. Mr. Forrester was incapable of giving Mr. Falkland that degree, either of pain or pleasure, which can raise the soul into a tumult, and deprive it for a while of tranquility and self-command. Our visitor was a man, not withstanding appearances, of a peculiarly sociable disposition, and where he was neither interrupted nor contradicted, considerably loquacious. He began to feel himself painfully out of his element upon the present occasion. Mr. Falkland was devoted to contemplation and solitude. He put upon himself some degree of restraint upon the arrival of his kinsmen, though even then his darling habits would break out. But when they had seen each other a certain number of times, and it was sufficiently evident that the society of either would be a burden rather than a pleasure to the other, they consented, by a sort of silent compact, that each should be at liberty to follow his own inclination. Mr. Falkland was, in a sense, the greatest gainer by this. He returned to the habits of his choice, and acted as nearly as possible, just as he would have done if Mr. Forrester had not been in existence. But the latter was wholly at a loss. He had all the disadvantages of retirement, without being able, as he might have done at his house, to bring his own associates or his own amusements about him. In this situation he cast his eyes upon me. It was his principle to do every thing that his thoughts suggested without caring for the forms of the world. He saw no reason why a peasant, with certain advantages of education and opportunity, might not be as eligible a companion as a lord, at the same time that he was deeply impressed with the venerableness of old institutions. Reduced as he was to a kind of last resort, he found me better qualified for his purpose than any other of Mr. Falkland's household. The manner in which he began this sort of correspondence was sufficiently characteristical. It was abrupt, but it was strongly stamped with essential benevolence. It was blunt and humorous, but there was attractiveness, especially in a case of unequal intercourse, in that very rusticity by which he levelled himself with the mass of his species. He had to reconcile himself as well as to invite me, not to reconcile himself to the postponing and aristocratical vanity. For of that he had a very slender portion. But to the trouble of invitation, for he loved his ease. All this produced some irregularity and indecision in his own mind, and gave a whimsical impression to his behaviour. On my part I was by no means ungrateful for the distinction that was paid me. My mind had been relaxed into temporary dejection, but my reserve had no alloy of moroseness or insensibility. It did not long hold out against the condescending attentions of Mr. Forester. I became gradually heedful, encouraged, confiding. I had a most eager thirst for the knowledge of mankind, and though no person perhaps ever purchased so dearly the instructions he received in that school, the inclination was, in no degree, diminished. Mr. Forester was the second man I had seen uncommonly worthy of my analysis, and who seemed to my thoughts, arrived as I was at the end of my first essay, almost as much deserving to be studied as Mr. Falkland himself. I was glad to escape from the uneasiness of my reflections, and while engaged with this new friend I forgot the criticalness of the evils with which I was hourly menaced. Guided by these feelings I was what Mr. Forester wanted, a diligent and zealous hearer. I was strongly susceptible of impression, and the alternate impressions my mind received visibly displayed themselves in my countenance and gestures. The observations Mr. Forester had made in his travels, the set of opinions he had formed, all amused and interested me. His manner of telling a story or explaining his thoughts was forcible, perspicuous and original. His style in conversation had an uncommon zest. Everything he had to relate delighted me, while in return my sympathy, my eager curiosity, and my unsophisticated passions rendered me to Mr. Forester a most desirable hearer. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that every day rendered our intercourse more intimate and cordial. Mr. Falkland was destined to be forever unhappy, and it seemed as if no new incident could occur from which he was not able to extract food for this imperious propensity. He was wearied with a perpetual repetition of similar impressions, and entertained an invincible disgust against all that was new. The visit of Mr. Forester he regarded with antipathy. He was scarcely able to look at him without shuddering, an emotion which his guest perceived, and pitied as the result of habit and disease, rather than of judgment. None of his actions passed unremarked, the most indifferent excited uneasiness and apprehension. The first overtures of intimacy between me and Mr. Forester probably gave birth to sentiments of jealousy in the mind of my master. The irregular, variable character of his visitor tended to heighten them by producing an appearance of inexplicableness and mystery. At this time he intimated to me that it was not agreeable to him, that there should be much intercourse between me and this gentleman. What could I do? Young as I was, could it be expected that I should play the philosopher and put perpetual curb upon my inclinations? Imprudent though I had been, could I voluntarily subject myself to an eternal penance and estrangement from human society? Could I discourage a frankness so perfectly in consonance with my wishes, and receive in an ungracious way a kindness that stole away my heart? Besides this I was but ill-prepared for the survival submission Mr. Falkland demanded. In early life I had been accustomed to be much my own master. When I first entered into Mr. Falkland's service my personal habits were checked by the novelty of my situation, and my affections were gained by the high accomplishments of my patron. To novelty and its influence curiosity had succeeded. Curiosity, so long as it lasted, was a principle stronger in my bosom than even the love of independence. To that I would have sacrificed my liberty or my life. To gratify it I would have submitted to the condition of a West Indian negro or to the tortures inflicted by North American savages. But the turbulence of curiosity had now subsided. As long as the threats of Mr. Falkland had been confined to generals I endured it. I was conscious of the unbecoming action I had committed and this rendered me humble. But when he went further and undertook to prescribe to every article of my conduct, my patience was at an end. My mind, before sufficiently sensible to the unfortunate situation to which my imprudence had reduced me, now took a nearer and a more alarming of the circumstances of the case. Mr. Falkland was not an old man. He had in him the principles of vigour, however they might seem to be shaken. He might live as long as I should. I was his prisoner. And what a prisoner! All my actions observed, all my gestures marked. I could move neither to the right nor the left, but the eye of my keeper was upon me. He watched me, and his vigilance was a sickness to my heart. For me there was no more freedom, no more of hilarity, of thoughtlessness or of youth. Was this the life upon which I had entered with such warm and sanguine expectation? Were my days to be wasted in this cheerless gloom, a galley-slave in the hands of the system of nature, whom death only, the death of myself or my inexorable superior, could free? I had been adventurous in the gratification of an infantine and unreasonable curiosity, and I resolved not to be less adventurous, if need were, in the defence of everything that can make life a blessing. I was prepared for an amicable adjustment of interests. I would undertake that Mr. Falkland should never sustain injury through my means, but I expected, in return, that I should suffer no encroachment, but be left to the direction of my own understanding. I went on, then, to seek Mr. Forrester's society with eagerness, and it is the nature of an intimacy that does not decline progressively to increase. Mr. Falkland observed these symptoms with visible perturbation. Whenever I was conscious of their being perceived by him, I betrayed tokens of confusion. This did not tend to allay his uneasiness. One day he spoke to me alone, and with a look of mysterious but terrible import, expressed himself thus. Young man, take warning! Perhaps this is the last time you shall have an opportunity to take it. I will not always be the butt of your simplicity and inexperience, nor suffer your weakness to triumph over my strength. Why do you trifle with me? You little suspect the extent of my power. At this moment you are enclosed with the snares of my vengeance, unseen by you, and at the instant that you flatter yourself you are already beyond their reach, they will close upon you. You might as well think of escaping from the power of the omnipresent God as from mine. If you could touch so much as my finger you should expiate it in hours and months and years of atorment, of which, as yet, you have not the remotest idea. Remember, I am not talking at random. I do not utter a word that, if you provoke me, shall not be executed to the severest letter. It may be supposed that these menaces were not without their effect. I withdrew in silence. My whole soul revolted against the treatment I endured, and yet I could not utter a word. Why could not I speak the expostulations of my heart, or propose the compromise I meditated? It was inexperience and not want of strength that awed me. Every act of Mr. Falkland contained something new, and I was unprepared to meet it. Perhaps it will be found that the greatest hero owes the propriety of his conduct to the habit of encountering difficulties, and calling out with promptness the energies of his mind. I contemplated the proceedings of my patron with the deepest astonishment. Humanity and general kindness were fundamental parts of his character, but in relation to me they were sterile and inactive. His own interest required that he should purchase my kindness, but he preferred to govern me by terror and watch me with unceasing anxiety. I ruminated with the most mournful sensations upon the nature of my calamity. I believed that no human being was ever placed in a situation so pitiable as mine. Every atom of my frame seemed to have a several existence, and to crawl within me. I had but too much reason to believe that Mr. Falkland's threats were not empty words. I knew his ability. I felt his ascendancy. If I encountered him, what chance had I of victory? If I were defeated, what was the penalty I had to suffer? Well then the rest of my life must be devoted to slavish subjection, miserable sentence. And if it were, what security had I against the injustice of a man, vigilant, capricious and criminal? I envied the condemned wretch upon the scaffold. I envied the victim of the inquisition in the midst of his torture. They know what they have to suffer. I had only to imagine everything terrible, and then say, The fate reserved for me is worse than this. It was well for me that these sensations were transient. And nature could not long support itself under what I then felt. By degrees my mind shook off its burden. Indignation succeeded to emotions of terror. The hostility of Mr. Falkland excited hostility in me. I determined I would never culminate him in matters of the most trivial import, much less betray the grand secret upon which everything dear to him depended. But totally abjuring the offensive, I resolved to stand firmly upon the defensive. The liberty of acting as I pleased I would preserve whatever might be the risk. If I were worsted in the contest I would at least have the consolation of reflecting that I had exerted myself with energy. In proportion, as I thus determined, I drew off my forces from petty incursions, and felt the propriety of acting with premeditation and system. I ruminated incessantly upon plans of deliverance. But I was anxious that my choice should not be precipitately made. It was during this period of my deliberation and uncertainty that Mr. Forester terminated his visit. He observed a strange distance in my behaviour, and in his good-natured, rough way reproached me for it. I could only answer with a gloomy look of mysterious import, and a mournful and expressive silence. He sought me for an explanation, but I was now, as ingenious in avoiding, as I had before been ardent to seek him. And he quitted our house, as he afterwards told me, with an impression that there was some ill destiny that hung over it, which seemed fated to make all its inhabitants miserable, without its being possible for a bystander to penetrate the reason. CHAPTER VIII. Mr. Forester had left us about three weeks when Mr. Falkland sent me upon some business to an estate he possessed in a neighbouring county, about fifty miles from his principal residence. The road led in a direction wholly wide of the habitation of our late visitor. I was upon my return from the place to which I had been sent, when I began in fancy, to take a survey of the various circumstances of my condition, and by degrees lost in the profoundness of my contemplation all attention to the surrounding objects. The first determination of my mind was to escape from the linkside jealousy and despotism of Mr. Falkland, the second to provide, by every effort of prudence and deliberation I could devise, against the danger with which I well knew my attempt must be accompanied. Occupied with these meditations I rode many miles before I perceived that I had totally deviated from the right path. At length I roused myself and surveyed the horizon round me, but I could observe nothing with which my organ was previously acquainted. On three sides the heath stretched as far as the eye could reach. On the fourth I discovered at some distance a wood of no ordinary dimensions. Before me scarcely a single track could be found, to mark that any human being had ever visited the spot. As the best expedient I could devise I bent my course towards the wood I have mentioned, and then pursued, as well as I was able, the windings of the enclosure. This led me after some time to the end of the heath, but I was still as much at a loss as ever respecting the road I should pursue. The sun was hid from me by a gray and cloudy atmosphere. I was induced to continue along the skirts of the wood, and surmounted with some difficulty the hedges and other obstacles that from time to time presented themselves. My thoughts were gloomy and disconsolate. The dreariness of the day, and the solitude which surrounded me, seemed to communicate a sadness to my soul. I had proceeded a considerable way, and was overcome with hunger and fatigue, when I discovered a road and a little inn at no great distance. I made up to them, and upon inquiry found that, instead of pursuing the proper direction, I had taken one that led to Mr. Forester's rather than to my own habitation. I alighted, and was entering the house, when the appearance of that gentleman struck my eyes. Mr. Forester accosted me with kindness, invited me into the room where he had been sitting, and inquired what accident had brought me to that place. While he was speaking I could not help recollecting the extraordinary manner in which we were thus once more brought together, and a train of ideas was, by this means, suggested to my mind. Some refreshment was, by Mr. Forester's order, prepared for me. I sat down and partook of it. Still this thought dwelt upon my recollection. After Falkland will never be made acquainted with our meeting I have an opportunity thrown in my way, which if I do not improve I shall deserve all the consequences that may result. I can now converse with a friend and a powerful friend, without fear of being watched and overlooked. What wonder that I was tempted to disclose, not Mr. Falkland's secret, but my own situation, and receive the advice of a man of worth and experience, which might perhaps be adequately done without entering into any detail injurious to my patron. Mr. Forester, on his part, expressed a desire to learn why it was I thought myself unhappy, and why I had avoided him during the latter part of his residence under the same roof, as evidently as I had before taken pleasure in his communications. I replied that I could give him but an imperfect satisfaction upon these points, but what I could I would willingly explain. The fact, I proceeded, was that there were reasons which rendered it impossible for me to have a tranquil moment under the roof of Mr. Falkland. I had revolved the matter again and again in my mind, and was finally convinced that I owed it to myself to withdraw from his service. I added that I was sensible by this half-confidence I might rather seem to merit the disappropriation of Mr. Forester than his countenance, but I declared my persuasion that if he could be acquainted with the whole affair, however strange my behaviour might at present appear, he would applaud my reserve. He appeared to muse for a moment upon what I had said, and then asked what reason I could have to complain of Mr. Falkland. I replied that I entertained the deepest reverence for my patron. I admired his abilities, and considered him as formed for the benefit of his species. I should, in my own opinion, be the vilest of miscreants if I uttered a whisper to his disadvantage. But this did not avail. I was not fit for him. Perhaps I was not good enough for him. At all events I must be perpetually miserable so long as I continued to live with him. I observed Mr. Forester gaze upon me eagerly with curiosity and surprise, but this circumstance I did not think proper to notice. Having recovered himself he inquired, why then, that being the case, I did not quit his service. I answered what he now touched upon was that which most of all contributed to my misfortune. Mr. Falkland was not ignorant of my dislike to my present situation. Perhaps he thought it unreasonable, unjust. But I knew that he would never be brought to consent to my giving way to it. Here Mr. Forester interrupted me, and smiling, said, I magnified obstacles, and overrated my own importance, adding that he would undertake to remove that difficulty as well as to provide me with a more agreeable appointment. This suggestion produced in me a serious alarm. I replied that I must entreat him upon no account to think of applying to Mr. Falkland upon the subject. I added that perhaps I was only betraying my imbecility, but in reality, unacquainted as I was with experience in the world, I was afraid, though disgusted with my present residence, to expose myself upon a mere project of my own, to the resentment of so considerable a man as Mr. Falkland. If he would favour me with his advice upon the subject, or if he would only give me leave to hope for his protection in case of any unforeseen accident, this was all I presumed to request. And thus encouraged I would venture to obey the dictates of my inclination, and fly in pursuit of my lost tranquillity. Having thus opened myself to this generous friend as far as I could do it with propriety and safety, he sat for some time silent, with an air of deep reflection. At length, with a countenance of unusual severity, and a characteristic fierceness of manner and voice, he thus addressed me, Young man, perhaps you are ignorant of the nature of the conduct you at present hold. Maybe you do not know that where there is mystery there is always something at bottom that will not bear the telling. Is this the way to obtain the favour of a man of consequence and respectability? To pretend to make a confidence and then tell him a disjointed story that has not common sense in it? I answered that whatever were the amount of that prejudice I must submit. I placed my hope of a candid construction in the present instance, in the rectitude of his nature. He went on, You do so, do you? I tell you, sir, the rectitude of my nature is an enemy to disguise. Come, boy, you must know that I understand these things better than you. Tell all or expect nothing from me but censure and contempt. Sir, replied I, I have spoken from deliberation. I have told you my choice, and whatever be the result I must abide by it. If in this misfortune you refuse me your assistance, here I must end, having gained by the communication only your ill-opinion and displeasure. He looked hard at me as if he would see me through. At length he relaxed his features and softened his manner. You are a foolish, headstrong boy, said he, and I shall have an eye upon you. I shall never place in you the confidence I have done, but I will not desert you. At present the balance between approvation and dislike is in your favour. How long it will last I cannot tell. I engage for nothing, but it is my rule to act as I feel. I will, for this time, do as you require, and pray God it may answer. I will receive you either now or hereafter under my roof, trusting that I shall have no reason to repent, and that appearance will terminate as favourably as I wish, though I scarcely know how to hope it. We were engaged in the earnest discussion of subjects, thus interesting to my peace, when we were interrupted by an event the most earnestly to have been deprecated. Without the smallest notice, and as if he had dropped upon us from the clouds, Mr. Falkland burst into the room. I found afterwards that Mr. Forrester had come thus far upon an appointment to meet Mr. Falkland, and that the place of their intended rendezvous was at the next stage. Mr. Forrester was detained at the inn where we now were by our accidental encounter, and in reality had for the moment forgotten his appointment, while Mr. Falkland, not finding him where he expected, proceeded thus far towards the house of his kinsmen. To me the meeting was most unaccountable in the world. I instantly foresaw the dreadful complication of misfortune that was included in this event. To Mr. Falkland the meeting between me and his relation must appear not accidental, but on my part at least, the result of design. I was totally out of the road I had been travelling by his direction. I was in a road that led directly to the house of Mr. Forrester. What must he think of this? How must he suppose I came to that place? The truth, if told, that I came there without design, and purely in consequence of having lost my way, must appear to be the most palpable lie that ever was devised. Here then I stood detected in the face of that intercourse which had been so severely forbidden. But in this instance it was infinitely worse than in those which had already given so much disturbance to Mr. Falkland. It was then frank and unconcealed, and therefore the presumption was that it was for purposes that required no concealment. But the present interview, if concerted, was in the most emphatical degree clandestine. Nor was it less perilous than it was clandestine. It had been forbidden with the most dreadful menaces. And Mr. Falkland was not ignorant how deep an impression those menaces had made upon my imagination. Such a meeting, therefore, could not have been concerted under such circumstances for a trivial purpose, or for any purpose that his heart did not ache to think of. Such was the amount of my crime. Such was the agony my appearance was calculated to inspire. And it was reasonable to suppose that the penalty I had to expect would be proportionable. The threats of Mr. Falkland still sounded in my ears, and I was in a transport of terror. The conduct of the same men in different circumstances is often so various as to render it very difficult to be accounted for. Mr. Falkland, in this, to him, terrible crisis, did not seem to be in any degree hurried away by passion. For a moment he was dumb, his eyes glared with astonishment, and the next moment, as it were, he had the most perfect calmness and self-command. Had it been otherwise, I have no doubt I should instantly have entered into an explanation of the manner in which I came there, the ingenuousness and consistency of which could not but have been in some degree attended with a favourable event. But as it was, I suffered myself to be overcome. I yielded, as in a former instance, to the discomforting influence of surprise. I dared scarcely breathe. I observed the appearances with equal anxiety and surprise. Mr. Falkland quietly ordered me to return home, and take along with me the groom he had brought with him. I obeyed in silence. I afterwards understood that he inquired minutely of Mr. Forrester the circumstances of our meeting, and that that gentleman, perceiving the meeting itself was discovered, and guided by habits of frankness, which, when once rooted in a character, it is difficult to counteract, told Mr. Falkland every thing that had passed, together with the remarks it had suggested to his own mind. Mr. Falkland received the communication with an ambiguous and studied silence, which by no means operated to my advantage in the already poisoned mind of Mr. Forrester. His silence was partly the direct consequence of a mind watchful, inquisitive, and doubting, and partly perhaps was adopted for the sake of the effect it was calculated to produce, Mr. Falkland not being unwilling to encourage prejudices against a character which might one day come in competition with his own. Because to me I went home indeed, for this was not a moment to resist. Mr. Falkland, with a premeditation to which he had given the appearance of accident, had taken care to send with me a guard to attend upon his prisoner. I seemed as if conducting to one of those fortresses, famed in history of despotism, from which the wretched victim is never known to come forth alive, and when I entered my chamber I felt as if I were entering a dungeon. I reflected that I was at the mercy of a man, exasperated at my disobedience, and who was already formed to cruelty by successive murders. My prospects were now closed. I was cut off, for ever, from pursuits, that I had meditated with ineffable delight. My death might be the event of a few hours. I was a victim at the shrine of conscious guilt, that knew neither rest nor satiety. I should be blotted from the catalogue of the living, and my fate remain eternally a secret. The man who added my murder to his former crimes would show himself the next morning and be hailed with the admiration and applause of his species. In the midst of these terrible imaginations one idea presented itself that alleviated my feelings. This was the recollection of the strange and unaccountable tranquillity which Mr. Falkland had manifested when he discovered me in company with Mr. Forester. I was not deceived by this. I knew that the calm was temporary, and would be succeeded by a tumult and whirlwind of the most dreadful sort. But a man under the power of such terrors as now occupied me catches at every reed. I said to myself, This tranquillity is a period it is incumbent upon me to improve. The shorter its duration may be found the more speedy am I obliged to be in the use of it. In a word I took the resolution, because I already stood in fear of the vengeance of Mr. Falkland, to risk the possibility of provoking it in a degree still more ineffiable, and terminate at once my present state of uncertainty. I had now opened my case to Mr. Forester, and he had given me positive assurances of his protection. I determined immediately to address the following letter to Mr. Falkland. A consideration that, if he meditated anything tragical, such a letter would only tend to confirm him did not enter into the present feelings of my mind. Sir, I have conceived the intention of quitting your service. This is a measure we ought both of us to desire. I shall then be what it is my duty to be, master of my own actions. You will be delivered from the presence of a person whom you cannot prevail upon yourself to behold without unpleasing emotions. Why should you subject me to an eternal penance? Why should you consign my youthful hopes to suffering and despair? Consult the principles of humanity that have marked the general course of your proceedings, and do not let me, I entreat you, be made the subject of a useless severity. My heart is impressed with gratitude for your favours. I sincerely ask your forgiveness for the many errors of my conduct. I consider the treatment I have received under your roof as one almost uninterrupted scene of kindness and generosity. I shall never forget my obligations to you, and will never betray them. I remain, sir, your most grateful, respectful, and dutiful servant, Caleb Williams. Such was my employment of the evening of a day which will be ever memorable in the history of my life. After Falkland not being yet returned, though expected every hour, I was induced to make use of the pretense of fatigue to avoid an interview. I went to bed. It may be imagined that my slumbers were neither deep nor refreshing. The next morning I was informed that my patron did not come home till late, that he had inquired for me, and being told that I was in bed, had said nothing further upon the subject. Inside in this respect I went to the breakfasting parlor, and though full of anxiety and trepidation, endeavored to busy myself in arranging the books and a few other little occupations, till Mr. Falkland should come down. After a short time I heard his step, which I perfectly well knew how to distinguish, in the passage. Presently he stopped, and speaking to someone in a sort of deliberate but smothered voice. I overheard him repeat my name as inquiring for me. In conformity to the plan I had persuaded myself to adopt, I now laid the letter I had written upon the table, at which he usually sat, and made my exit at one door, as Mr. Falkland entered at the other. This done I withdrew, with flutterings and palpitation, to a private apartment, a sort of light closet at the end of the library, where I was accustomed not unfrequently to sit. I had not been here three minutes, when I heard the voice of Mr. Falkland calling me. I went to him in the library. His manner was that of a man laboring with some dreadful thought, and endeavouring to give an air of carelessness and insensibility to his behaviour. Perhaps no carriage of any other sort could have produced a sensation of such inexplicable horror, or have excited, in the person who was its object, such anxious uncertainty about the event. "'That is your letter,' said he, throwing it. "'My lad,' continued he, "'I believe now you have played all your tricks, and the farce is nearly at an end. With your apishness and absurdity, however, you have taught me one thing. And whereas before I have winced at them with torture, I am now as tough as an elephant. I shall crush you in the end with the same indifference that I would any other little insect that disturbed my serenity. I am unable to tell what brought about your meeting with Mr. Forrester yesterday. It might be design, it might be accident. But I shall not forget it. You write me here, that you are desirous to quit my service. To that I have a short answer. You never shall quit it with life. If you attempt it, you shall never cease to rue your folly as long as you exist. That is my will, and I will not have it resisted. The very next time you disobey me in that, or any other article, there is an end of your vagaries for ever. Perhaps your situation may be a pitiable one. It is for you to look to that. I only know that it is in your power to prevent its growing worse. No time nor chance shall ever make it better. Do not imagine I am afraid of you. I wear an armour against which all your weapons are impotent. I have dug a pit for you, and whichever way you move, backward or forward, to the right or the left, it is ready to swallow you. Be still. If once you fall, call as loud as you will, no man on earth shall hear your cries. Prepare a tale, however plausible, or however true, the whole world shall execrate you for an impostor. Your innocence shall be of no service to you. I laugh at so feeble a defence. It is I that say it. You may believe what I tell you. Do you not know, miserable wretch? added he, suddenly altering his tone and stamping upon the ground with fury, that I have sworn to preserve my reputation, whatever be the expense, that I love it more than the whole world and its inhabitants taken together? And do you think that you shall wound it? Be gone, miscreant, reptile, and cease to contend with insurmountable power. The part of my history which I am now relating is that which I reflect upon with the least complacency. Why was it that I was once more totally overcome by the imperious carriage of Mr. Falkland, and unable to utter a word? The reader will be presented with many occasions in the sequel, in which I wanted neither facility in the invention of expedience, nor fortitude in entering upon my justification. Persecution at length gave firmness to my character and taught me the better part of manhood. But in the present instance I was irresolute, over-odd, and abashed. The speech I had heard was the dictate of frenzy, and it created in me a similar frenzy. It determined me to do the very thing against which I was thus solemnly warned, and fly from my patron's house. I could not enter into parley with him. I could no longer endure the vile subjugation he imposed upon me. It was in vain that my reason warned me of the rashness of a measure to be taken without concert or preparation. I seemed to be in a state in which reason had no power. I felt as if I could coolly survey the several arguments of the case, perceive that they had prudence, truth, and common sense on their side, and then answer, I am under the guidance of a director more energetic than you. I was not long in executing what I had thus rapidly determined. I fixed on the evening of that very day as the period of my evasion. Even in this short interval I had perhaps sufficient time for deliberation, but all opportunity was useless to me. My mind was fixed, and each succeeding moment only increased the unspeakable eagerness with which I meditated my escape. The hours usually observed by our family in this country residence were regular, and one in the morning was the time I selected for my undertaking. In searching the apartment where I slept I had formerly discovered a concealed door, which led to a small apartment of the most secret nature, not uncommon in houses so old as that of Mr. Falkland, and which had perhaps served as a refuge from persecution or a security from the inveterate hostilities of a barbarous age. I believed no person was acquainted with this hiding-place but myself. I felt unaccountably impelled to remove into it the different articles of my personal property. I could not at present take them away with me. If I were never to recover them, I felt that it would be a gratification to my sentiment that no trace of my existence should be found after my departure. Having completed their removal, and waited till the hour I had previously chosen, I stole down quietly from my chamber with a lamp in my hand. I went along a passage that led to a small door opening into the garden, and then crossed the garden, to a gate that intersected an elm-walk, and a private horse-path on the outside. I could scarcely believe my good fortune in having thus far executed my design without interruption. The terrible images Mr. Falkland's menaces had suggested to my mind made me expect impediment and detection at every step, though the impassioned state of my mind impelled me to advance with desperate resolution. He probably, however, counted too securely upon the ascendancy of his sentiments, when imperiously pronounced, to think it necessary to take precautions against a sinister event. For myself, I drew a favourable omen to the final result of my project, from the smoothness of success that attended it in the outset. End of CHAPTER VIII. The first plan that had suggested itself to me was to go to the nearest public road, and take the earliest stage for London. There I believed I should be most safe from discovery if the vengeance of Mr. Falkland should prompt him to pursue me, and I did not doubt, among the multiplied resources of the metropolis, to find something which should suggest to me an eligible mode of disposing of my person, and industry. I reserved Mr. Forrester in my arrangement, as a last resource, not to be called fourth unless for immediate protection from the hand of persecution and power. I was destitute of that experience of the world which can alone render us fertile in resources, or enable us to institute a just comparison between the resources that offer themselves. I was like the fascinated animal that is seized with the most terrible apprehensions, at the same time that he is incapable of adequately considering for his own safety. The mode of my proceeding, being digested, I traced with a cheerful heart the unfrequented path it was now necessary for me to pursue. The night was gloomy, and it drizzled with rain. But these were circumstances I had scarcely the power to perceive, all was sunshine and joy within me. I hardly felt the ground. I repeated to myself a thousand times, I am free. What concern have I with danger and alarm? I feel that I am free. I feel that I will continue so. What power is able to hold in chains of mind ardent and determined? What power can cause that man to die, whose soul commands him to continue to live? I looked back with abhorrence to the subjection in which I had been held. I did not hate the author of my misfortunes. Truth and justice acquit me of that. I rather pitied the hard destiny to which he seemed condemned. But I thought with unspeakable loathing of those errors in consequence of which every man is fated to be more or less the tyrant or the slave. I was astonished at the folly of my species that they did not rise up as one man and shake off chains so ignominious and misery so insupportable. So far as related to myself I resolved, and this resolution has never been entirely forgotten by me, to hold myself disengaged from this odious scene and never fill the part either of the oppressor or the sufferer. My mind continued in this enthusiastical state full of confidence and accessible only to such a portion of fear as served rather to keep up a state of pleasurable emotion than to generate anguish and distress during the whole of this nocturnal expedition. After a walk of three hours I arrived, without accident, at the village from which I hoped to have taken my passage for the metropolis. At this early hour everything was quiet. No sound of anything human saluted my ear. It was with difficulty that I gained admittance into the yard of the inn, where I found a single osler taking care of some horses. From him I received the unwelcome tidings, that the coach was not expected till six o'clock in the morning of the day after to-morrow, its route through that town recurring only three times a week. This intelligence gave the first check to the rapturous inebriation by which my mind had been possessed from the moment I quitted the habitation of Mr. Falkland. The whole of my fortune in ready cash consisted of about eleven guineas. I had about fifty more that had fallen to me from the disposal of my property at the death of my father, but that was so vested as to preclude it from immediate use, and I even doubted whether it would not be found better ultimately to resign it, than by claiming it to risk the furnishing a clue to what I most of all dreaded, the persecution of Mr. Falkland. There was nothing I so ardently desired as the annihilation of all future intercourse between us, that he should not know there was such a person on the earth as myself, and that I should never more hear the repetition of a name which had been so fatal to my peace. Thus circumstance I conceived frugality to be an object by no means unworthy of my attention, unable as I was to prognasticate what discouragements and delays might prevent themselves to the accomplishments of my wishes, after my arrival in London. For this and other reasons I determined to adhere to my design of travelling by the stage. It only remaining for me to consider in what manner I should prevent the eventful delay of twenty-four hours from becoming, by any untoward event, a source of new calamity. It was by no means advisable to remain in the village where I now was during this interval, nor did I even think proper to employ it in proceeding on foot along the great road. I therefore decided upon making a circuit, the direction of which should seem at first extremely wide of my intended route, and then suddenly taking a different inclination should enable me to arrive by the close of day at a market-town twelve miles nearer to the metropolis. Having fixed the economy of the day and persuaded myself that it was the best which, under the circumstances, could be adopted, I dismissed, for the most part, all further anxieties from my mind, and eagerly yielded myself up to the different amusements that arose. I rested and went forward at the impulse of the moment. At one time I reclined upon a bank immersed in contemplation, and at another exerted myself to analyze the prospects which succeeded each other. The haziness of the morning was followed by a spirit stirring and beautiful day. With the ductility so characteristic of a youthful mind I forgot the anguish which had lately been my continual guest, and occupied myself entirely in dreams of future novelty and felicity. I scarcely ever, in the whole course of my existence, spent a day of more various or exquisite gratification. It furnished a strong, and perhaps not an unsalutary contrast, to the terrors which had proceeded and the dreadful scenes that awaited me. In the evening I arrived at the place of my destination, and inquired for the inn at which the coach was accustomed to call. A circumstance, however, had previously excited my attention, and reproduced in me a state of alarm. Although it was already dark before I reached the town, my observation had been attracted by a man, who passed me on horseback in the opposite direction, about half a mile on the other side of the town. There was an inquisitiveness in his gesture that I did not like, and as far as I could discern in his figure I pronounced him an ill-looking man. He had not passed me more than two minutes before I heard the sound of a horse advancing slowly behind me. These circumstances impressed some degree of uneasy sensation upon my mind. I first mended my pace, and, this not appearing to answer the purpose, I afterwards loitered, that the horseman might pass me. He did so, and as I glanced at him I thought I saw that it was the same man. He now put his horse into a trot, and entered the town. I followed, and it was not long before I perceived him at the door of a nail-house, drinking a mug of beer. This, however, the darkness prevented me from discovering till I was in a manner upon him. I pushed forward, and saw him no more, till, as I entered the yard of the inn where I intended to sleep, the same man suddenly rode up to me, and asked if my name were Williams. This adventure, while it had been passing, expelled the gaiety of my mind and filled me with anxiety. The apprehension, however, that I felt appeared to me groundless. If I were pursued, I took it for granted it would be by some of Mr. Falkland's people, and not by a stranger. The darkness took from me some of the simplest expedience of precaution. I determined at least to proceed to the inn and make the necessary inquiries. I no sooner heard the sound of the horse as I entered the yard, and the question proposed to me by the rider, than the dreadful certainty of what I feared instantly took possession of my mind. Every incident connected with my late abhorred situation was calculated to impress me with the deepest alarm. My first thought was to take myself to the fields, and trust to the swiftness of my flight for safety. But this was scarcely practicable. I remarked that my enemy was alone, and I believed that, man to man, I might reasonably hope to get the better of him, either by the firmness of my determination or the subtlety of my invention. As resolved I replied in an impetuous and peremptory tone that I was the man he took me for, adding, I guess you're errand, but it is to no purpose. You come to conduct me back to Falkland house, but no force shall ever drag me to that place alive. I have not taken my resolution without strong reasons, and all the world shall not persuade me to alter it. I am an Englishman, and it is the privilege of an Englishman to be sole judge and master of his own actions. You are in the devil of a hurry, replied the man, to guess my intentions and tell your own. But your guess is right, and may have—you may have reason to be thankful that my errand is not something worse. Sure enough the squire expects you. But I have a letter, and when you have read that I suppose you will come off a little of your stoutness. If that does not answer, it will then be time to think what is to be done next. Thus saying he gave me his letter which was from Mr. Forrester, whom, as he told me, he had left at Mr. Falkland's house. I went into a room of the inn for the purpose of reading it, and was followed by the bearer. The letter was as follows. Williams. My brother Falkland has sent the bearer in pursuit of you. He expects that, if found, you will return with him. I expect it too. It is of the utmost consequence to your future honour and character. After reading these lines, if you are a villain and a rascal, you will perhaps endeavour to fly. If your conscience tells you you are innocent, you will, out of all doubt, come back. Show me then whether I have been your dupe, and whether I was won over by your seeming ingenuousness, have suffered myself to be made the tool of a designing knave. If you come, I pledge myself that, if you clear your reputation, you shall not only be free to go wherever you please, but shall receive every assistance in my power to give. Remember I engage for nothing further than that. Valentine Forrester. What a letter was this! To a mind like mine, glowing with the love of virtue, such an address was strong enough to draw the person to whom it was addressed, from one end of the earth to the other. My mind was full of confidence and energy. I felt my own innocence, and was determined to assert it. I was willing to be driven out of fugitive. I even rejoiced in my escape, and cheerfully went out into the world destitute of every provision, and depending for my future prospects upon my own ingenuity. This much, said I, Falkland, you may do. Dispose of me as you please with respect to the goods of fortune, but you shall neither make prize of my liberty, nor sully the whiteness of my name. I repast in my thoughts every memorable incident that had happened to me under his roof. I could recollect nothing except the affair of the mysterious trunk, out of which the shadow of a criminal accusation could be extorted. In that instance my conduct had been highly reprehensible, and I had never looked back upon it without remorse and self-condemnation. But I did not believe that it was of the nature of those actions which can be brought under legal censure. I could still less persuade myself that Mr. Falkland, who shuddered at the very possibility of detection, and who considered himself as completely in my power, would dare to bring forward a subject so closely connected with the internal agony of his soul. In a word, the more I reflected on the phrases of Mr. Forrester's billet, the less could I imagine the nature of those scenes to which they were to serve as a prelude. The inscrutableness, however, of the mystery they contained, did not suffice to overwhelm my courage. My mind seemed to undergo an entire revolution. Timid and embarrassed as I had felt myself, when I regarded Mr. Falkland as my clandestine and domestic foe, I now conceived that the case was entirely altered. "'Meet me,' said I, as an open accuser, if we must contend, let us contend in the face of day, and then, unparalleled as your resources may be, I will not fear you.' Innocence and guilt were, in my apprehension, the things in the whole world the most opposite to each other. I would not suffer myself to believe that the former could be confounded with the latter, unless the innocent man first allowed himself to be subdued in mind, before he was defrauded of the good opinion of mankind. Virtue rising superior to every calamity, defeating by a plain unvarnished tale all the stratagems of vice, and throwing back upon her adversary the confusion with which he had hoped to overwhelm her, was one of the favourite subjects of my youthful reveries. I determined never to prove an instrument of destruction to Mr. Falkland, but I was not less resolute to obtain justice to myself. The issue of all these confident hopes I shall immediately have occasion to relate. It was thus with the most generous and undoubting spirit that I rushed upon irretrievable ruin. "'Friend,' said I, to the bearer, after a considerable interval of silence, you are right. This is indeed an extraordinary letter you have brought me, but it answers its purpose. I will certainly go with you now, whatever be the consequence. No person shall ever impute blame to me so long as I have it in my power to clear myself.' I felt in the circumstances in which I was placed by Mr. Forrester's letter not merely a willingness but an alacrity and impatience to return. We procured a second horse. We proceeded on our journey in silence. My mind was occupied again in endeavouring to account for Mr. Forrester's letter. I knew the inflexibility and sternness of Mr. Falkland's mind in accomplishing the purposes he had at heart, but I also knew that every virtuous and magnanimous principle was congenial to his character. When we arrived midnight was already past, and we were obliged to awaken one of the servants to give us admittance. I found that Mr. Forrester had left a message for me, in consideration of the possibility of my arrival during the night, directing me immediately to go to bed, and to take care that I did not come weary and exhausted to the business of the following day. I endeavored to take his advice, but my slumbers were unrefreshing and disturbed. I suffered, however, no reduction of courage, the singularity of my situation, my conjectures with respect to the present, my eagerness for the future, did not allow me to sink into a languid and inactive state. Next morning the first person I saw was Mr. Forrester. He told me that he did not yet know what Mr. Falkland had to allege against me, for that he had refused to know. He had arrived at the house of his brother by appointment on the preceding day to settle some indispensable business. His intention having been to depart the moment the business was finished, as he knew that conduct on his part would be most agreeable to Mr. Falkland. But he was no sooner calm than he found the whole house in confusion, the alarm of my allotment having been given a few hours before. Mr. Falkland had dispatched servants in all directions in pursuit of me, and the servant from the market-town arrived at the same moment with Mr. Forrester, with intelligence that a person answering the description he gave had been there very early in the morning, inquiring, respecting the stage to London. Mr. Falkland seemed extremely disturbed at this information, and exclaimed on me with acrimony, as an unthankful and unnatural villain. Mr. Forrester replied, Have more command of yourself, sir. Villain is a serious appellation, and must not be trifled with. Englishmen are free, and no man is to be charged with villainy because he changes one source of subsistence for another. Mr. Falkland shook his head, and with a smile expressive of acute sensibility, said, Brother, brother, you are the dupe of his art. I always considered him with an eye of suspicion, and was aware of his depravity. But I have just discovered— Stop, sir! interrupted Mr. Forrester. I own, I thought, that, in a moment of acrimony, you might be employing harsh epithets in a sort of random style. But if you have a serious accusation to state, we must not be told of that, till it is known whether the lad is within reach of a hearing. I am indifferent myself about the good opinion of others. It is what the world bestows and retracts with so little thought that I can make no account of its decision. But that does not authorize me lightly to entertain an ill-opinion of another. The slenderest allowance I think I can make to such as I can sign to be the example and terror of their species is that of being heard in their own defence. It is a wise principle that requires the judge to come into court uninformed of the merits of the cause he is to try. And to that principle I am determined to conform as an individual. I shall always think it right to be severe and inflexible in my treatment of offenders, but the severity I exercise in the sequel must be accompanied with impartiality and caution in what is preliminary. While Mr. Forrester related to me these particulars he observed me ready to break out into some of the expressions which the narrative suggested, but he would not suffer me to speak. No, said he, I would not hear Mr. Falkland against you, and I cannot hear you in your defence. I come to you at present to speak, and not to hear. I thought it right to warn you of your danger, but I have nothing more to do now. Whatever what you have to say to the proper time. Make the best story you can for yourself. True, if truth, as I hope, will serve your purpose. But if not, the most plausible and ingenious you can invent. That is what self-defence requires from every man, where, as it always happens to a man upon his trial, he has the whole world against him, and has his own battle to fight against the world. Farewell, and God send you a good deliverance. If Mr. Falkland's accusation, whatever it be, shall appear premature, depend upon having me more zealously your friend than ever. If not, this is the last act of friendship you will ever receive from me. It may be believed that this address, so singular, so solemn, so big with conditional menace, did not greatly tend to encourage me. I was totally ignorant of the charge to be advanced against me, and not a little astonished when it was in my power to be in the most formidable degree the accuser of Mr. Falkland, to find the principles of equity so completely reversed, as for the innocent but instructed individual to be the party accused, and suffering instead of having, as was natural, the real criminal at his mercy. I was still more astonished at the superhuman power Mr. Falkland seemed to possess, of bringing the object of his persecution within the sphere of his authority, a reflection attended with some check to that eagerness and boldness of spirit which now constituted the ruling passion of my mind. But this was no time for meditation. To the sufferer the course of events is taken out of his direction, and he is hurried along with an irresistible force, without finding it within the compass of his efforts to check their rapidity. I was allowed only a short time to recollect myself when my trial commenced. I was conducted to the library where I had passed so many happy and so many contemplative hours, and found there Mr. Forester and three or four of the servants already assembled in expectation of me and my accuser. Everything was calculated to suggest to me that I must trust only in the justice of the party's concerned, and had nothing to hope from their indulgence. Mr. Falkland entered at one door, almost as soon as I entered at the other. CHAPTER IX of VOLUME II