"Heavens!" said the lady, in extreme terror, "that is the person! Do take me from this place! I would not encounter him for the world!"
She was too late; for already had the object of her apprehension caught a glimpse of her person; and no sooner had he done so, than with rapid strides he advanced directly towards them. The lady shook with terror and agitation. When he had approached almost in a direct line to within some forty or fifty feet, he riveted a long and steady gaze upon the lady, and another of shorter duration upon her companion, still walking onward. Victor stood and gazed after him until he was entirely without the enclosure.
He was a well-dressed man, apparently about fifty-five years of age, tall, and straight in his carriage as an Indian; his hair was slightly silvered; his countenance expressed wildness, but was steady and consistent in the expression of present purpose; his eye was dark and deep, and, when you looked upon it steadily for a short time, appeared as if you were gazing at two black holes in his head; his complexion was sallow; its characteristics—energy and deep determination.
"And that is the maniac?" said Chevillere, in a half-abstracted mood.
"I said not so," replied the lady; "but he is, indeed, that most unfortunate man, whose whole business seems to be to haunt me in my travels; otherwise our meeting has been most strangely accidental and untoward."
"If he is in ill health," said Victor, "he may have gone to the Springs without intending to meet you; and now, when the season is nearly over, and he is likewise on his return, there is nothing more natural than his visiting this monument—every stranger does so,—do not, therefore, aggravate your distress by supposing these meetings to have been sought on his part. I will endeavour to find him, and demand of him whether he seeks to annoy an unhappy invalid by pursuing her from place to place, and what are his motives."
"Oh! sir, for Heaven's sake, do not think of such a thing. He is a powerful and a fearful man, when in his right mind; and even in his derangement, might do you some harm, especially if you went as commissioned by me. Besides, sir, if he was undoubtedly sane and respectful, he might demand, as a right, to see me, and converse with me too. Nay, he might possibly have some claim to control my actions; but you see he does not. Let him alone, therefore, and do not involve yourself in any of my troubles. I am inextricably entangled, and pinioned down to a certain routine of suffering, perhaps unexampled, and that too by no crime of my own."
"Dear lady," said Chevillere, taking her hand, as he saw her blue eye filling with tears, and just ready to run over; "you cannot imagine how much I feel interested for you; and what I am about to say, as it will risk your displeasure, is the very best evidence that I can give of my deep interest in your future peace and contentment. Believe me, dear lady, that though I am young, and may be inexperienced,—I am not an indifferent observer of the secret machinery of men's actions. I have been a steady observer and a thinker for myself, without regard to the opinion of individuals or the world, when I was conscious that I was right, and that they were wrong. Listen to me, then, with patience, while I give you my opinion, with regard to the difficulties which seem to be accumulating around you. Of course, this opinion must be a general one; as the circumstances upon which it is founded are only such as are of a general character. Nor do I seek for more confidence on your part towards me; I cannot expect that you should unfold the intimate relations of your family and your friends to a comparative stranger. This, then, is my (of course vague) opinion—I have generally observed, in my intercourse with mankind, that the most trying situations and the deepset distress are often brought about by a small mistake—misfortune—or crime in the beginning. The latter of these I would defy the most malignant misanthrope to look upon your countenance and charge you with; one of the two former, then, is the point upon which all your distress, and ill health, and melancholy hangs. My advice then is, upon this general view of the case, that you go back to that point, and rectify it as speedily as possible; and do it boldly and fearlessly, as I am sure you can. Burst asunder these chains that fetter you, whatever they may be."
"I see," said the lady (tears fast stealing down her cheeks), "that I am always destined to make the same unhappy impression on every acquaintance, male or female, valued or unvalued. Before I have grown many degrees in their good opinion, some of these unlucky things are seen to develop themselves, and then I am subject to the greatest misfortune to which an honourable and a sensitive mind can be exposed; that is, to be supposed weak or wicked, though at the same time conscious of pure and upright motives. To be plain with you, sir, I must tell you again, that in order for me to be relieved of that which trammels me in some shape or other at every step, the grave must give up its own; and the law must give up its own; and the avaricious must annul their decrees; and the dead of half a century must undo their work; and the wisdom of the sage must be instilled into the mind of a child; and the slanders, and the wild and wicked fancies of the lunatic must be convinced by reason or actual demonstration of the foregoing things—before the point you speak of can be seized upon, and turned to my advantage."
"Then, indeed, is it a hard case, and I will not distress you further on the subject; I will not add my persecution to that of others—I will not say enemies; for one so young and so artless, so innocent and so unfortunate, can have no enemies."