d fresh satisfaction. There was more reason for
gratification when, at the close of the evening, the surviving relative
turned from his barren discourse and referred to the last days of the
deceased. There was comfort and consolation to the living in the
evidences which he produced of his most blessed change. It was a joy to
me to hear of his repentance, and to listen to the terms in which he
made it known. I did not easily forget them. I journeyed homeward. When
I arrived at the house of Doctor Mayhew, I was surprised to find how
little I could remember of the country over which I had travelled. The
scenes through which I had passed were forgotten--had not been noticed.
Absorbed by the thoughts which possessed my brain, I had suffered myself
to be carried forward, conscious of nothing but the waking dreams. I was
prepared, however, to see my friend. Still influenced by the latent hope
of meeting once more with Miss Fairman, still believing in the happy
issue of my love, I had resolved to keep my own connexion with the idiot
as secret as the grave. There was no reason why I should betray myself.
His fate was independent of my act--my conduct formed no link in the
chain which must be presented to make the history clear: and shame would
have withheld the gratuitous confession, had not the ever present,
never-dying promise forbade the disclosure of one convicting syllable.
As may be supposed, the surprise of Doctor Mayhew, upon hearing the
narrative, was no less than the regret which he experienced at the
violent death of the poor creature in whom he had taken so kind and deep
an interest. But a few days sufficed to sustain his concern for one who
had come to him a stranger, and whom he had known so short a time. The
pursuits and cares of life gradually withdrew the incident from his
mind, and all thoughts of the idiot. He ceased to speak of him. To me,
the last scene of his life was present for many a year. I could not
remove it. By day and night it came before my eyes, without one effort
on my part to invoke it. It has started up, suddenly and mysteriously,
in the midst of enjoyment and serene delight, to mingle bitterness in
the cup of earthly bliss. It has come in the season of sorrow to
heighten the distress. Amongst men, and in the din of business, the
vision has intruded, and in solitude it has followed me to throw its
shadows across the bright green fields, beautiful in their freshness.
Night after night--I cannot co