On my way through the town I stopped at the postoffice to get

letters, and received one from Mrs. Delaney--late Clifford--my

wife's exemplary mother, addressed to Julia. I then proceeded to

Edgerton's lodgings. He was not yet up, and I saw him in his chamber.

His flute lay upon the toilet. Seeing it, I recalled, with all its

original vexing bitterness, the scene which took place the night

previous to my departure from my late home. And when I looked on

Edgerton--saw with what effort he spoke, and how timidly he expressed

himself--how reluctant were his eyes to meet the gaze of mine--his

guilt seemed equally fresh and unequivocal. I marked him out,

involuntarily, as my victim. I felt assured, even while conveying

to him the complimentary invitation which I bore, that my hand

was commissioned to do the work of death upon his limbs. Strange

and fascinating conviction! But I did not contemplate this necessity

with any pleasure. No! I would have prayed--I did pray--that the

task might be spared me. If I thought of it at all, it was as the

agent of a necessity which I could not countervail. The fates had

me in their keeping. I was the blind instrument obeying the inflexible

will, against which "Reluctant nature strives in vain."

I felt then, most truly, though I deceived myself, that I had no

power, though every disposition, to save and to spare. I conveyed

my invitation as a message from my wife.

"Edgerton, my wife has planned a little ramble for this afternoon.

She wishes to show you some of the beauties of landscape in our

new abode. She commissions me to ask you to join us."

"Ah! did SHE?" he demanded eagerly, with a slight emphasis on the

last word.

"Ay, did she! Will you come?"

"Certainly--with pleasure!"

He need not have said so much. The pleasure spoke in his bright

eyes--in the tremulous hurry of his utterance. I turned away from

him, lest I should betray the angry feeling which disturbed me.

He did not seek to arrest my departure. He had few words. It was

sufficiently evident that he shrunk from my glance and trembled

in my presence. How far otherwise, in the days of our mutual

innocence--in our days of boyhood--when his face seemed clear

like that of a pure, perfect star, shining out in the blue serene

of night, unconscious of a cloud.

Kingsley was already at my office when I reached it, and soon after

came Mr. Wharton, followed by two of our opponents. We were engaged

with them the better part of the morning. When the business hours

were consumed, our transactions remained unfinished, and another

meeting was appointed for the ensuing day. I invited Wharton as well

as Kingsley to join us in our afternoon rambles, which they both

promised to do. I went home something sooner to make preparations,

and only recollected, on seeing Julia, that I had thrown the letter

from her mother, with other papers, into my desk. When I told her

of the letter, her countenance changed to a death-like paleness

which instantly attracted my notice.




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