t--the idiot was gone--who could tell
whither? After two hours' unprofitable labour, Doctor Mayhew was
again in his library, very much disturbed in mind, and reproaching
himself bitterly for his procrastination. "Had I acted," said he,
"upon my first determination, this would never have happened, and my
part in the business would have been faithfully performed. As it is,
if any mischief should come to that man, I shall never cease to
blame myself, and to be considered the immediate cause of it." I made
no reply. I _could_ say nothing. His escape occurring so soon after
my identification of the unfortunate creature, had bewildered and
confounded me. I could not guess at the motive of his flight, nor
conceive a purpose to which it was likely the roused maniac would
aspire; but I was satisfied--yes, too satisfied, for to think of it
was to chill and freeze the heart's warm blood--that the revelation
of the day and his removal were in close connexion. Alas, I dared
not speak, although my fears distracted me whilst I continued dumb!
Arrangements were at last made for watching both within and without
the house during the night--messengers were dispatched to the
contiguous villages, and all that could be done for the recovery of
the runaway was attempted. It was already past twelve o'clock when
Dr. Mayhew insisted upon my retiring to rest. I did not oppose his
wish. He was ill at ease, and angry with himself. Maintaining the
silence which I had kept during the evening, I gave him my hand, and
took my leave.

I thought I should have dropped dead in the room when, lost in a deep
reverie, I opened my chamber-door, and discovered, sitting at the
table, the very man himself. _There the idiot sat_, portrait in hand,
encountering me with a look of unutterable sorrowfulness. He must
have hid himself amongst the folds of the curtains, for this room,
as well as the rest, was looked into, and its cupboards investigated.
I recoiled with sudden terror, and retreated, but the wretch clasped
his hands in agony, and implored me in gestures which could not be
mistaken, to remain. I recovered, gained confidence, and forbore.

"What do you desire with me?" I asked quickly. "Can you speak? Do you
understand me?" The unhappy man dropped on his knees, and took my
hand--cried like a beaten child--sobbed and groaned. He raised the
likeness of his sister to my eyes, and then I saw the fire sparkling
in his own lustrous orb, and the supplication burs