But how to save him? How to approach him? How to keep down my

own sense of wrong, my own feeling of misery, while representing

the wishes and the feelings of that good old man--that venerable

father? These were questions to afflict, to confound me! Still,

I was committed; I must do what I had promised; undertake it at

least; and the conviction that such a task was to be the severest

trial of my manliness, was a conviction that necessarily helped to

strengthen me to go through with it like a man, What I had heard from Mr. Edgerton in relation to his son, though

new, and somewhat surprising to myself, had not altered, in any

respect, my impressions on the subject of his conduct toward, or

with, my wife. Indeed, it rather served to confirm them. I could

have told the old man, that, in losing all traces of his son in

the neighborhood of my dwelling the night when he pursued him, he

had the most conclusive proofs that he had gone to no gaming-houses.

But where did he go? That was a question for myself. Had he entered

my premises, and hidden himself amidst the foliage where I had myself

so often harbored, while my object had been the secret inspection

of my household? Could it be that he had loitered there during the

last few nights of my wife's illness, in the vain hope of seeing

me take my departure? This was the conclusion which I reached,

and with it came the next thought that he would revisit the spot

again that night. Ha! that thought! "Let him come!" I muttered to

myself. "I will endeavor to be in readiness!"

But, surely, the father was grievously in error; his parental

fear, alone, had certainly drawn the picture of his son's reduced

and miserable condition. I had seen nothing of this. I had observed

that he was shy, incommunicative--seeking to avoid me, as, according

to their showing, he had striven to avoid his parents. So far our

experience had been the same. But I had totally failed to perceive

the marks of suffering or of sin which the vivid feelings of the

father on this subject had insisted were so apparent. I had seen

in Edgerton only the false friend, the traitor, stealing like a

serpent to my bower, to beguile from my side the only object which

made it dear to me. I could see in him only the exulting seducer,

confident in his ability, artful in his endeavors, winning in his

accomplishments, and striving with practised industry of libertinism,

in the prosecution of his cruel schemes. I could see the grace of

his bearing, the ease of his manner, the symmetry of his person,

the neatness of his costume, the superiority of his dancing, the

insinuation of his address. I could see these only! That he looked

miserable--that he was thin to meagreness, I had not seen.




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