d
knew not whither to proceed; then bounded off again, the hunted deer
not quicker in his flight, and instantly was out of sight. Without
the smallest hope of seeing him again, I pursued the fugitive, and,
as well as I could guess it, continued in his track. For half a mile
I traced his steps, and then I lost them. His last footmark was at
the closed gate of a good-sized dwelling house. The roof and highest
windows only of the habitation were to be discerned from the path,
and these denoted the residence of a wealthy man. He could have no
business here--no object. "He must have passed," thought I,
"upon the other side." I was about to cross the road, when I
perceived, at the distance of a few yards, a man labouring in a field.
I accosted him, and asked if he had seen the idiot.

No--he had not. He was sure that nobody had passed by him for hours.
He must have seen the man if he had come that way.

"Whose house is that?" I asked, not knowing _why_ I asked the
question.

"What? that?" said he, pointing to the gate. "Oh, that's Squire
_Temple's_."

The name dropped like a knife upon my heart. I could not speak. I
must have fallen to the earth, if the man, seeing me grow pale as
death, had not started to his feet, and intercepted me. I trembled
with a hundred apprehensions. My throat was dry with fright, and I
thought I should have choked. What follows was like a hideous dream.
The gate was opened suddenly. JAMES TEMPLE issued from it, and
passed me like an arrow. He was appalled and terrorstricken. Behind
him--within six feet--almost upon him, yelling fearfully, was the
brother of the girl he had betrayed and ruined--his friend and
schoolfellow, the miserable Frederick Harrington. I could perceive
that he held aloft, high over his head, the portrait of his sister.
It was all I saw and could distinguish. Both shot by me. I called to
the labourer to follow; and fast as my feet could carry me, I went on.
Temple fell. Harrington was down with him. I reached the spot. The
hand of the idiot was on the chest of the seducer, and the picture
was thrust in agony before his shuddering eyes. There was a
struggle--the idiot was cast away--and Temple was once more dashing
onward. "On, on!--after him!" shrieked the idiot. They reached the
river's edge. "What now--what now?" I exclaimed, beholding them from
afar, bewildered and amazed. The water does not restrain the scared
spirit of the pursued. He rushes on, leaps in, and trusts t