ting from it, that
was not to be resisted. He pointed to his mouth, compelled an
inarticulate sound, and looked at me again, to assure me that he had
spoken all his faculties permitted him. He waited for any answer.

Melted with pity for the bruised soul before me, I could no longer
deny him the gratification he besought.

"Emma!" I ejaculated; "Emma Harrington!"

He wept aloud, and kissed my hand, and put my arm upon his breast,
and caressed it with his own weak head. I permitted the affectionate
creature to display his childish gratitude, and then, taking him by
the wrist, I withdrew him from the room. An infant could not have
been more docile with its nurse. In another moment he was again in
custody.

It was in vain that I strove to fall asleep, and to forget the
circumstances of the day--in vain that I endeavored to carry out the
resolution which I had taken to my pillow. Gladly would I have
expelled all thought of the idiot from my mind, and risen on the
morrow, prepared by rest and sweet suspension of mental labour for
profitable deliberation. Sound as was the advice of my friend, and
anxious as I was to follow it, obedience rested not with me, and was
impossible. Should I make known the history of the man? Should I
discover his crime? This was the question that haunted my repose,
and knocked at my ears until my labouring brain ached in its
confusion. What might be the effect of a disclosure upon the future
existence of the desolate creature, should he ever recover his reason?
Must he not suffer the extreme penalty of the law? It was dreadful
to think that his life should be forfeited through, and only through,
my agency. There were reasons again equally weighty, why I should
not conceal the facts which were in my possession. How I should have
determined at length, I know not, if an argument--founded on
selfishness had not stepped in and turned the balance in favour of
the idiot. Alas, how easy is it to decide when self-interest
interposes with its intelligence and aid! Neither Mr. Fairman nor
Doctor Mayhew knew of my connexion with the unfortunate Emma
Harrington. To expose the brother would be to commit myself. I was
not yet prepared to acknowledge to the father of Miss Fairman, or to
his friend, the relation that I had borne to that poor girl. And why
not? If to divulge the secret were an act of justice, why should I
hesitate to do it on account of the incumbent, with whom I had
broken off all intercourse