is
dungeon, that should elevate me still higher on the ladder of
prosperity. But the moment has now come when he must give up his
secret."

"And what if he should refuse?" inquired Hepzibah. "Or,--as I
steadfastly believe,--what if he has no knowledge of this wealth?"

"My dear cousin," said Judge Pyncheon, with a quietude which he had the
power of making more formidable than any violence, "since your
brother's return, I have taken the precaution (a highly proper one in
the near kinsman and natural guardian of an individual so situated) to
have his deportment and habits constantly and carefully overlooked.
Your neighbors have been eye-witnesses to whatever has passed in the
garden. The butcher, the baker, the fish-monger, some of the customers
of your shop, and many a prying old woman, have told me several of the
secrets of your interior. A still larger circle--I myself, among the
rest--can testify to his extravagances at the arched window. Thousands
beheld him, a week or two ago, on the point of flinging himself thence
into the street. From all this testimony, I am led to
apprehend--reluctantly, and with deep grief--that Clifford's
misfortunes have so affected his intellect, never very strong, that he
cannot safely remain at large. The alternative, you must be
aware,--and its adoption will depend entirely on the decision which I
am now about to make,--the alternative is his confinement, probably for
the remainder of his life, in a public asylum for persons in his
unfortunate state of mind."

"You cannot mean it!" shrieked Hepzibah.

"Should my cousin Clifford," continued Judge Pyncheon, wholly
undisturbed, "from mere malice, and hatred of one whose interests ought
naturally to be dear to him,--a mode of passion that, as often as any
other, indicates mental disease,--should he refuse me the information
so important to myself, and which he assuredly possesses, I shall
consider it the one needed jot of evidence to satisfy my mind of his
insanity. And, once sure of the course pointed out by conscience, you
know me too well, Cousin Hepzibah, to entertain a doubt that I shall
pursue it."

"O Jaffrey,--Cousin Jaffrey," cried Hepzibah mournfully, not
passionately, "it is you that are diseased in mind, not Clifford! You
have forgotten that a woman was your mother!--that you have had
sisters, brothers, children of your own!--or that there ever was
affection between man and man, or pity from one man to another, i