That the party, recently arrived, had brought with them one or more
captives, and that by some sudden effort the prisoners had attempted to
escape, was the only supposition that I could form. By wrhat motives
either of them could be induced to seek concealment in my chamber could
not be imagined. I now heard a single step on the threshold below. Some one entered the
common room. He traversed the floor during a few minutes, and then,
ascending the staircase, he entered my chamber. It was Sarsefield. Trouble and dismay were strongly written on his countenance. He seemed
totally unconscious of my presence; his eyes were fixed upon the floor,
and, as he continued to move across the room, he heaved forth deep
sighs. This deportment was mournful and mysterious. It was little in unison
with those appearances which he wore at our parting, and must have been
suggested by some event that had since happened. My curiosity impelled
me to recall him from his reverie. I rose, and, seizing him by the arm,
looked at him with an air of inquisitive anxiety. It was needless to
speak. He noticed my movement, and, turning towards me, spoke in a tone of some
resentment:--"Why did you deceive me? Did you not say Clithero was
dead?" "I said so because it was my belief. Know you any thing to the contrary? Heaven grant that he is still alive, and that our mutual efforts may
restore him to peace!" "Heaven grant," replied my friend, with a vehemence that bordered upon
fury,--"Heaven grant that he may live thousands of years, and know not,
in their long course, a moment's respite from remorse and from anguish! But this prayer is fruitless. He is not dead, but death hovers over him. Should he live, he will live only to defy justice and perpetrate new
horrors. My skill might perhaps save him, but a finger shall not be
moved to avert his fate. "Little did I think that the wretch whom my friends rescued from the
power of the savages, and brought wounded and expiring hither, was
Clithero. They sent for me in haste to afford him surgical assistance. I
found him stretched upon the floor below, deserted, helpless, and
bleeding. The moment I beheld him, he was recognised. The last of evils
was to look upon the face of this assassin; but that evil is past, and
shall never be endured again. "Rise, and come with me. Accommodation is prepared for you at Walcot's. Let us leave this house, and, the moment you are able to perform a
journey, abandon forever this district." I could not readily consent to this proposal. Clithero had been
delivered from captivity, but was dying for want of that aid which
Sarsefield was able to afford. Was it not inhuman to desert him in this
extremity? What offence had he committed that deserved such implacable
vengeance? Nothing I had heard from Sarsefield was in contradiction to
his own story. His deed, imperfectly observed, would appear to be
atrocious and detestable; but the view of all its antecedent and
accompanying events and motives would surely place it in the list, not
of crimes, but of misfortunes. But wrhat is that guilt which no penitence can expiate? Had not
Clithero's remorse been more than adequate to crimes far more deadly and
enormous than this? This, however, was no time to argue with the
passions of Sarsefield. Nothing but a repetition of Clithero's tale
could vanquish his prepossessions and mollify his rage; but this
repetition was impossible to be given by me, till a moment of safety and
composure. These thoughts made me linger, but hindered me from attempting to change
the determination of my friend. He renewed his importunities for me to
fly with him. He dragged me by the arm, and, wavering and reluctant, I
followed where he chose to lead. He crossed the common room, with
hurried steps, and eyes averted from a figure which instantly fastened
my attention. It was indeed Clithero whom I now beheld, supine, polluted with blood,
his eyes closed, and apparently insensible. This object was gazed at
with emotions that rooted me to the spot. Sarsefield, perceiving me
determined to remain where I was, rushed out of the house, and
disappeared. Chapter XXVII. I hung over the unhappy wretch, whose emaciated form and rueful features
sufficiently bespoke that savage hands had only completed that
destruction which his miseries had begun. He was mangled by the tomahawk
in a shocking manner, and there was little hope that human skill could
save his life. I was sensible of nothing but compassion. I acted without design, when,
seating myself on the floor, I raised his head and placed it on my
knees. This movement awakened his attention, and, opening his eyes, he
fixed them on my countenance. They testified neither insensibility, nor
horror, nor distraction. A faint emotion of surprise gave way to an
appearance of tranquillity. Having perceived these tokens of a state
less hopeless than I at first imagined, I spoke to him:--"My friend, how
do you feel? Can any thing be done for you?" He answered me in a tone more firm and with more coherence of ideas
than previous appearances had taught me to expect. "No," said he; "thy
kindness, good youth, can avail me nothing. The end of my existence here
is at hand. May my guilt be expiated by the miseries that I have
suffered, and my good deeds only attend me to the presence of my divine
Judge! "I am waiting, not with trembling or dismay, for this close of my
sorrows. I breathed but one prayer, and that prayer has been answered. I
asked for an interview with thee, young man; but, feeling as I now feel,
this interview, so much desired, was beyond my hope. Now thou art come,
in due season, to hear the last words that I shall need to utter. "I wanted to assure thee that thy efforts for my benefit were not
useless. They have saved me from murdering myself, a guilt more
inexpiable than any which it was in my power to commit. "I retired to the innermost recess of Norwalk, and gained the summit of
a hill, by subterranean paths. This hill I knew to be on all sides
inaccessible to human footsteps, and the subterranean passages were
closed up by stones. Here I believed my solitude exempt from
interruption, and my death, in consequence of famine, sure. "This persuasion was not taken away by your appearance on the opposite
steep. The chasm which severed us I knew to be impassable. I withdrew
from your sight. "Some time after, awakening from a long sleep, I found victuals beside
me. He that brought it was invisible. For a time, I doubted whether some
messenger of heaven had not interposed for my salvation. How other than
by supernatural means my retreat should be explored, I was unable to
conceive. The summit was encompassed by dizzy and profound gulfs, and
the subterranean passages were still closed. "This opinion, though corrected by subsequent reflection, tended to
change the course of my desperate thoughts. My hunger, thus
importunately urged, would not abstain, and I ate of the food that was
provided.