I was to
gain all the knowledge, respecting him, which those with whom he lived,
and were the perpetual witnesses of his actions, could impart. For this
end I was to make minute inquiries, and to put seasonable
interrogatories. From this conduct I promised myself an ultimate
solution of my doubts. I acquiesced in this view of things with considerable satisfaction. It
seemed as if the maze was no longer inscrutable. It would be quickly
discovered who were the agents and instigators of the murder of my
friend. But it suddenly occurred to me, For what purpose shall I prosecute this
search? What benefit am I to reap from this discovery? How shall I
demean myself when the criminal is detected? I was not insensible, at
that moment, of the impulses of vengeance, but they were transient. I
detested the sanguinary resolutions that I had once formed. Yet I was
fearful of the effects of my hasty rage, and dreaded an encounter in
consequence of which I might rush into evils which no time could repair,
nor penitence expiate. "But why," said I, "should it be impossible to arm myself with firmness? If forbearance be the dictate of wisdom, cannot it be so deeply engraven
on my mind as to defy all temptation, and be proof against the most
abrupt surprise? My late experience has been of use to me. It has shown
me my weakness and my strength. Having found my ancient fortifications
insufficient to withstand the enemy, what should I learn from thence but
that it becomes me to strengthen and enlarge them? "No caution, indeed, can hinder the experiment from being hazardous. Is
it wise to undertake experiments by which nothing can be gained, and
much may be lost? Curiosity is vicious, if undisciplined by reason, and
inconducive to benefit." I was not, however, to be diverted from my purpose. Curiosity, like
virtue, is its own reward. Knowledge is of value for its own sake, and
pleasure is annexed to the acquisition, without regard to any thing
beyond. It is precious even when disconnected with moral inducements and
heartfelt sympathies; but the knowledge which I sought by its union with
these was calculated to excite the most complex and fiery sentiments in
my bosom. Hours were employed in revolving these thoughts. At length I began to be
sensible of fatigue, and, returning home, explored the way to my chamber
without molesting the repose of the family. You know that our doors are
always unfastened, and are accessible at all hours of the night. My slumbers were imperfect, and I rejoiced when the morning light
permitted me to resume my meditations. The day glided away, I scarcely
know how, and, as I had rejoiced at the return of morning, I now hailed,
with pleasure, the approach of night. My uncle and sisters having retired, I betook myself, instead of
following their example, to the _Chestnut-hill_. Concealed among
its rocks, or gazing at the prospect which stretched so far and so wide
around it, my fancy has always been accustomed to derive its highest
enjoyment from this spot. I found myself again at leisure to recall the
scene which I had witnessed during the last night, to imagine its
connection with the fate of Waldegrave, and to plan the means of
discovering the secret that was hidden under these appearances. Shortly, I began to feel insupportable disquiet at the thoughts of
postponing this discovery. Wiles and stratagems were practicable, but
they were tedious, and of dubious success. Why should I proceed like a
plotter? Do I intend the injury of this person? A generous purpose will
surely excuse me from descending to artifices. There are two modes of
drawing forth the secrets of another,--by open and direct means and by
circuitous and indirect. Why scruple to adopt the former mode? Why not
demand a conference, and state my doubts, and demand a solution of them,
in a manner worthy of a beneficent purpose? Why not hasten to the spot? He may be, at this moment, mysteriously occupied under this shade. I may
note his behaviour; I may ascertain his person, if not by the features
that belong to him, yet by tracing his footsteps when he departs, and
pursuing him to his retreats. I embraced this scheme, which was thus suggested, with eagerness. I
threw myself with headlong speed down the hill and pursued my way to the
elm. As I approached the tree, my palpitations increased, though my pace
slackened. I looked forward with an anxious glance. The trunk of the
tree was hidden in the deepest shade. I advanced close up to it. No one
was visible, but I was not discouraged. The hour of his coming was,
perhaps, not arrived. I took my station at a small distance, beside a
fence, on the right hand. An hour elapsed before my eyes lighted on the object of which they were
in search. My previous observation had been roving from one quarter to
another. At last, it dwelt upon the tree. The person whom I before
described was seated on the ground. I had not perceived him before, and
the means by which he placed himself in this situation had escaped my
notice. He seemed like one whom an effort of will, without the exercise
of locomotion, had transported hither, or made visible. His state of
disarray, and the darkness that shrouded him, prevented me, as before,
from distinguishing any peculiarities in his figure or countenance. I continued watchful and mute. The appearances already described took
place on this occasion, except the circumstance of digging in the earth. He sat musing for a while, then burst into sighs and lamentations. These being exhausted, he rose to depart. He stalked away with a solemn
and deliberate pace. I resolved to tread, as closely as possible, in his
footsteps, and not to lose sight of him till the termination of his
career. Contrary to my expectation, he went in a direction opposite to that
which led to Inglefield's. Presently, he stopped at bars, which he
cautiously removed, and, when he had passed through them, as
deliberately replaced. He then proceeded along an obscure path, which
led across stubble-fields, to a wood. The path continued through the
wood, but he quickly struck out of it, and made his way, seemingly at
random, through a most perplexing undergrowth of bushes and briers. I was, at first, fearful that the noise which I made behind him, in
trampling down the thicket, would alarm him; but he regarded it not. The
way that he had selected was always difficult: sometimes considerable
force was requisite to beat down obstacles; sometimes it led into a deep
glen, the sides of which were so steep as scarcely to afford a footing;
sometimes into fens, from which some exertions were necessary to
extricate the feet, and sometimes through rivulets, of which the water
rose to the middle. For some time I felt no abatement of my speed or my resolution. I
thought I might proceed, without fear, through brakes and dells which my
guide was able to penetrate. He was perpetually changing his direction.