mit me to a conference,
provided that conference has no witnesses, I will disclose to you
particulars, the knowledge of which is of the utmost importance to your
happiness. Farewell.

"CARWIN."

What a letter was this! A man known to be an assassin and robber; one
capable of plotting against my life and my fame; detected lurking in
my chamber, and avowing designs the most flagitious and dreadful, now
solicits me to grant him a midnight interview! To admit him alone into
my presence! Could he make this request with the expectation of my
compliance? What had he seen in me, that could justify him in admitting
so wild a belief? Yet this request is preferred with the utmost gravity.
It is not accompanied by an appearance of uncommon earnestness. Had
the misconduct to which he alludes been a slight incivility, and the
interview requested to take place in the midst of my friends, there
would have been no extravagance in the tenor of this letter; but, as it
was, the writer had surely been bereft of his reason.

I perused this epistle frequently. The request it contained might be
called audacious or stupid, if it had been made by a different person;
but from Carwin, who could not be unaware of the effect which it must
naturally produce, and of the manner in which it would unavoidably be
treated, it was perfectly inexplicable. He must have counted on the
success of some plot, in order to extort my assent. None of those
motives by which I am usually governed would ever have persuaded me to
meet any one of his sex, at the time and place which he had prescribed.
Much less would I consent to a meeting with a man, tainted with the
most detestable crimes, and by whose arts my own safety had been so
imminently endangered, and my happiness irretrievably destroyed. I
shuddered at the idea that such a meeting was possible. I felt some
reluctance to approach a spot which he still visited and haunted.

Such were the ideas which first suggested themselves on the perusal of
the letter. Meanwhile, I resumed my journey. My thoughts still dwelt
upon the same topic. Gradually from ruminating on this epistle, I
reverted to my interview with Pleyel. I recalled the particulars of the
dialogue to which he had been an auditor. My heart sunk anew on viewing
the inextricable complexity of this deception, and the inauspicious
concurrence of events, which tended to confirm him in his error. When
he approached my chamber door, my terror kept me mute.