I beheld my
friend, stretched upon the earth, ghastly with a mortal wound, alone,
with no traces of the slayer visible, no tokens by which his place of
refuge might be sought, the motives of his enmity or his instruments of
mischief might be detected. I hung over the dying youth, whose insensibility forbade him to
recognise his friend, or unfold the cause of his destruction. I
accompanied his remains to the grave; I tended the sacred spot where he
lay; I once more exercised my penetration and my zeal in pursuit of his
assassin. Once more my meditations and exertions were doomed to be
disappointed. I need not remind thee of what is past. Time and reason seemed to have
dissolved the spell which made me deaf to the dictates of duty and
discretion. Remembrances had ceased to agonize, to urge me to headlong
acts and foster sanguinary purposes. The gloom was half dispersed, and a
radiance had succeeded sweeter than my former joys. Now, by some unseen concurrence of reflections, my thoughts reverted
into some degree of bitterness. Methought that to ascertain the hand who
killed my friend was not impossible, and to punish the crime was just. That to forbear inquiry or withhold punishment was to violate my duty to
my God and to mankind. The impulse was gradually awakened that bade me
once more to seek the elm; once more to explore the ground; to
scrutinize its trunk. What could I expect to find? Had it not been a
hundred times examined? Had I not extended my search to the neighbouring
groves and precipices? Had I not pored upon the brooks, and pried into
the pits and hollows, that were adjacent to the scene of blood? Lately I had viewed this conduct with shame and regret; but in the
present state of my mind it assumed the appearance of conformity with
prudence, and I felt myself irresistibly prompted to repeat my search. Some time had elapsed since my departure from this district,--time
enough for momentous changes to occur. Expedients that formerly were
useless might now lead instantaneously to the end which I sought. The
tree which had formerly been shunned by the criminal might, in the
absence of the avenger of blood, be incautiously approached. Thoughtless
or fearless of my return, it was possible that he might, at this moment,
be detected hovering near the scene of his offences. Nothing can be pleaded in extenuation of this relapse into folly. My
return, after an absence of some duration, into the scene of these
transactions and sufferings, the time of night, the glimmering of the
stars, the obscurity in which external objects were wrapped, and which,
consequently, did not draw my attention from the images of fancy, may in
some degree account for the revival of those sentiments and resolutions
which immediately succeeded the death of Waldegrave, and which, during
my visit to you, had been suspended. You know the situation of the elm, in the midst of a private road, on
the verge of Norwalk, near the habitation of Inglefield, but three miles
from my uncle's house. It was now my intention to visit it. The road in
which I was travelling led a different way. It was requisite to leave
it, therefore, and make a circuit through meadows and over steeps. My
journey would, by these means, be considerably prolonged; but on that
head I was indifferent, or rather, considering how far the night had
already advanced, it was desirable not to reach home till the dawn. I proceeded in this new direction with speed. Time, however, was allowed
for my impetuosities to subside, and for sober thoughts to take place. Still I persisted in this path. To linger a few moments in this shade,
to ponder on objects connected with events so momentous to my happiness,
promised me a mournful satisfaction. I was familiar with the way, though
trackless and intricate, and I climbed the steeps, crept through the
brambles, leaped the rivulets and fences with undeviating aim, till at
length I reached the craggy and obscure path which led to Inglefield's
house. In a short time, I descried through the dusk the widespread branches of
the elm. This tree, however faintly seen, cannot be mistaken for
another. The remarkable bulk and shape of its trunk, its position in the
midst of the way, its branches spreading into an ample circumference,
made it conspicuous from afar. My pulse throbbed as I approached it. My eyes were eagerly bent to discover the trunk and the area beneath the
shade. These, as I approached, gradually became visible. The trunk was
not the only thing which appeared in view. Somewhat else, which made
itself distinguishable by its motions, was likewise noted. I faltered
and stopped. To a casual observer this appearance would have been unnoticed. To me,
it could not but possess a powerful significance. All my surmises and
suspicions instantly returned. This apparition was human, it was
connected with the fate of Waldegrave, it led to a disclosure of the
author of that fate. What was I to do? To approach unwarily would alarm
the person. Instant flight would set him beyond discovery and reach. I walked softly to the roadside. The ground was covered with rocky
masses, scattered among shrub-oaks and dwarf-cedars, emblems of its
sterile and uncultivated state. Among these it was possible to elude
observation and yet approach near enough to gain an accurate view of
this being. At this time, the atmosphere was somewhat illuminated by the moon,
which, though it had already set, was yet so near the horizon as to
benefit me by its light. The shape of a man, tall and robust, was now
distinguished. Repeated and closer scrutiny enabled me to perceive that
he was employed in digging the earth. Something like flannel was wrapped
round his waist and covered his lower limbs. The rest of his frame was
naked. I did not recognise in him any one whom I knew. A figure, robust and strange, and half naked, to be thus employed, at
this hour and place, was calculated to rouse up my whole soul. His
occupation was mysterious and obscure. Was it a grave that he was
digging? Was his purpose to explore or to hide? Was it proper to watch
him at a distance, unobserved and in silence, or to rush upon him and
extort from him, by violence or menaces, an explanation of the scene? Before my resolution was formed, he ceased to dig. He cast aside his
spade and sat down in the pit that he had dug. He seemed wrapped in
meditation; but the pause was short, and succeeded by sobs, at first low
and at wide intervals, but presently louder and more vehement. Sorely
charged was indeed that heart whence flowed these tokens of sorrow. Never did I witness a scene of such mighty anguish, such heart-bursting
grief. What should I think? I was suspended in astonishment. Every sentiment,
at length, yielded to my sympathy. Every new accent of the mourner
struck upon my heart with additional force, and tears found their way
spontaneously to my eyes. I left the spot where I stood, and advanced
within the verge of the shade.