Edgar Huntley

to recollect my promise and perform it. At length am I somewhat delivered from suspense and from tremors. At length the drama is broug

e that was passing or approaching; to forbear to grasp at futurity; to suffer so much

ive, incompatible with order and coherence? Yet when I shall be better qualified for this task I know not. Time may take away these headlong energies, and give me back my ancient sobriety; but this change will only be effected by weakening my remembrance

id; or that which words should fail to convey, my looks and gestures would suffice to communicate. But I know thy coming is impossible. To leave this spot is equally beyond my

t and dismay has been my soul during that period! What light has burst upon my ignorance of

sten. The fate of Waldegrave was as fertile of torment to thee as to me. His bloody and mysterious catastrophe equally awakened thy grief, thy revenge, and thy curiosity. Thou wilt catch from my story every horror and e

It was indispensable to be here on Tuesday, but my duty required no more than that I should arrive by sunrise on that day. To travel during the night was productive of no formidable inconvenience. The air was likely to b

y sensations sunk into melancholy. The scene and the time reminded me of the friend whom I had lost. I recalled

? Waldegrave was pure from all offence. His piety was rapturous. His benevolence was a stranger to remissness or torpor. All who came within the sphere of his influ

is ill-omened journey till the morning, his inexplicable obstinacy, his resolution to set

re revived and reacted. I heard the discharge of the pistol, I witnessed the alarm of Inglefield, I heard his calls to his servants, and saw them issue forth with lights and hasten to the spot whence the sound had seemed to proceed. I beheld

ruction. I accompanied his remains to the grave; I tended the sacred spot where he lay; I once more exercised my pene

o the dictates of duty and discretion. Remembrances had ceased to agonize, to urge me to headlong acts and fost

uiry or withhold punishment was to violate my duty to my God and to mankind. The impulse was gradually awakened that bade me once more to seek the elm; once more to explore the ground; to scrutinize its trunk. What could I expect to

sed since my departure from this district,--time enough for momentous changes to occur. Expedients that formerly were useless might now lead instantaneously to the end which I sought. The tree which had formerly been shunned b

night, the glimmering of the stars, the obscurity in which external objects were wrapped, and which, consequently, did not draw my attention from the images of fancy, may in s

on to visit it. The road in which I was travelling led a different way. It was requisite to leave it, therefore, and make a circuit through meadows and over steeps. My journey would, by t

moments in this shade, to ponder on objects connected with events so momentous to my happiness, promised me a mournful satisfaction. I was familiar with the way, though trackless and intricate

nnot be mistaken for another. The remarkable bulk and shape of its trunk, its position in the midst of the way, its

ched, gradually became visible. The trunk was not the only thing which appeared in view. Somewhat

nd suspicions instantly returned. This apparition was human, it was connected with the fate of Waldegrave, it led to a disclosure of the a

ub-oaks and dwarf-cedars, emblems of its sterile and uncultivated state. Among these it was po

. The shape of a man, tall and robust, was now distinguished. Repeated and closer scrutiny enabled me to perceive that he was employed in digging the earth. S

occupation was mysterious and obscure. Was it a grave that he was digging? Was his purpose to explore or to hide? Was it proper to watch

ation; but the pause was short, and succeeded by sobs, at first low and at wide intervals, but presently louder and more vehement. Sorely char

my heart with additional force, and tears found their way spontaneously to my eyes. I left the spot where I stood, and advanced within the verge of

re of my presence, and desirous of hiding something from my inspection. I was prompted to advance nearer and hold his hand, but my uncertainty as to his character and vi

. "Who is there? W

towards the spot where I stood. An interview and explanation were now, methough

t he acted as if he saw nothing. Again he betook himself to his spade, and proceeded with new diligence to fill up t

eeping and sighs with more vehemence than before. In a short time the fit seemed

t turned not his head to either side. My nearer view of him made his brawny arms and lofty stature more conspicuous; but his imperfect dress, the dimness of the light, and the confusion o

person was asleep. Such instances were not unknown to me, through the medium of conversation and books. Never, indeed, had it fallen under my own observation till now, and now it wa