ay often cause
the one to exert all his powers with the utmost activity to obtain
the object in view; but the moment that he has done all that seems
possible, the soul tells the mind to throw off the burden for the
time; and, casting away all thought of the matter, he lays himself
down comfortably to sleep and forgetfulness. The other, however, in
whose bosom some more deep interest exists, pursues the object also
by every means that can be suggested; but when all is done, and the
mind is wearied, the soul does not suffer the intellect to repose,
but, still engaged in the pursuit, calls the mind to labour with
anxious thought, even though that thought may be employed in vain.
For some hours after the Messenger was sound asleep, and had
forgotten the whole transaction in the arms of slumber, Wilton sat
conversing with the Duke, and endeavouring to draw from him even the
smallest particulars of all that had taken place during the last few
days, with the hope of discovering some probable cause for the event.
The Duke, however, though disposed to be communicative towards Wilton
on most subjects, showed a shyness of approaching anything connected
with the meeting in Leadenhall-street.
It was evident, indeed, that all his suspicions turned upon Sir John
Fenwick, and he admitted that a violent quarrel had occurred after
the meeting; but he showed so evident an inclination to avoid
entering into the subject farther, that Wilton in common delicacy
could not press him. Finding it in vain to seek any more information
in that quarter, Wilton at length retired to rest, but sleep came not
near his eyelids. He now lay revolving all that had occurred,
endeavouring to extract from the little that was really known some
light, however faint, to lead to farther discovery. In the darkness
of the night, imagination, too, came in, and pictured a thousand
vague but horrible probabilities regarding the fate of the beautiful
girl with whom he had so lately walked in sweet companionship on the
very terrace from which it appeared that she had been violently taken
away. Fancy had wide range to roam, both in regard to the objects of
those who had carried her off, to the place whither they had borne
her, and to the probability of ever recovering her or not. But Fancy
stopped not there--she suggested doubts to Wilton's mind as to the
fact of her having been carried off at all. The terrible apprehension
that she might, by some accident, have fallen into the river returned
upon him. The