Hawkins and
his son were condemned and executed.

This was the story Mr. Collins told me in order that I might understand
Mr. Falkland's unhappy state. In reality it only added to my
embarrassment.

Was it possible, after all, that Mr. Falkland should be the murderer? It
was but a passing thought, and yet what was the meaning of Mr.
Falkland's agonies of mind? I could not accept Mr. Collins's view that
Mr. Falkland was so much the slave and fool of honour that the shame of
Tyrrel's savage assault alone had driven him to this melancholy and
solitude, and compelled the violent outbursts of passion.

_II.--I Learn the Secret_

My suspicions would not be set at rest. No spark of malignity was
harboured in my soul. I reverenced the sublime mind of Mr. Falkland, but
I had a mistaken curiosity to find out the truth of Tyrrel's murder.
Often it seemed that Mr. Falkland was about to speak to me, but the
movement always ended in silence.

At last one day he sent for me to his room, and after making me swear
never to disclose his confidence, and warning me that he had observed my
suspicions, told me that he was the murderer of Tyrrel and the assassin
of the two Hawkins.

"This it is to be a gentleman, a man of honour!" Falkland went on, in
extreme distress. "My virtue, my honesty, my everlasting peace of mind,
all sacrificed that I may preserve my good name. And I am as much the
fool of fame as ever. Though I be the blackest of villains, I will leave
behind me a spotless and illustrious name. Why is it that I am compelled
to this confidence? From the love of fame. I had no alternative but to
make you my confidant or my victim, and perhaps my next murder would not
have been so fortunate. I do not want to shed more blood. It is better
to trust you with the whole truth, under every seal of secrecy, than to
live in perpetual fear of your penetration. But look what you have done
with your foolishly inquisitive humour. You shall continue in my
service, and I will benefit you in respect of fortune; but I shall
always hate you. If ever an unguarded word escape from your lips, you
may expect to pay for it with your death, or worse. By everything that
is sacred, preserve your faith!"

Such was the secret I had been so desirous to know.

"It is a wretched prospect," I said to myself, "that he holds up to me.
But I will never become an informer. I will never injure my patron; and
therefore he will not be my enemy."

It was no