e, and readily consented to furnish me with a
chaise and servant to attend me. My purpose was to go immediately to
Pleyel's farm, where his engagements usually detained him during the
day.

Chapter XII

My way lay through the city. I had scarcely entered it when I was seized
with a general sensation of sickness. Every object grew dim and swam
before my sight. It was with difficulty I prevented myself from sinking
to the bottom of the carriage. I ordered myself to be carried to Mrs.
Baynton's, in hope that an interval of repose would invigorate and
refresh me. My distracted thoughts would allow me but little rest.
Growing somewhat better in the afternoon, I resumed my journey.

My contemplations were limited to a few objects. I regarded my success,
in the purpose which I had in view, as considerably doubtful. I
depended, in some degree, on the suggestions of the moment, and on the
materials which Pleyel himself should furnish me. When I reflected on
the nature of the accusation, I burned with disdain. Would not truth,
and the consciousness of innocence, render me triumphant? Should I not
cast from me, with irresistible force, such atrocious imputations?

What an entire and mournful change has been effected in a few hours! The
gulf that separates man from insects is not wider than that which severs
the polluted from the chaste among women. Yesterday and to-day I am the
same. There is a degree of depravity to which it is impossible for me
to sink; yet, in the apprehension of another, my ancient and intimate
associate, the perpetual witness of my actions, and partaker of my
thoughts, I had ceased to be the same. My integrity was tarnished
and withered in his eyes. I was the colleague of a murderer, and the
paramour of a thief!

His opinion was not destitute of evidence: yet what proofs could
reasonably avail to establish an opinion like this? If the sentiments
corresponded not with the voice that was heard, the evidence was
deficient; but this want of correspondence would have been supposed by
me if I had been the auditor and Pleyel the criminal. But mimicry might
still more plausibly have been employed to explain the scene. Alas! it
is the fate of Clara Wieland to fall into the hands of a precipitate and
inexorable judge.

But what, O man of mischief! is the tendency of thy thoughts? Frustrated
in thy first design, thou wilt not forego the immolation of thy victim.
To exterminate my reputation was all that rem