and ere two years had passed, it was completely blotted from
my recollection, when chance brought me an opportunity of learning all
the circumstances from beginning to end.

I arrived at Calais, from London, with my pupil, the Marquis of ----.
We lodged, if I remember rightly, at the "Golden Lion," where, for some
reason, we were obliged to spend the following day and night. Walking
along the streets in the afternoon, I fancied I saw the same young man
whom I had formerly met at Passy. He was miserably dressed, and much
paler than when I first saw him. He carried on his arm an old
portmanteau, having only just arrived in the town. However, there was
an expression in his countenance too amiable not to be easily
recognised, and which immediately brought his features to my
recollection. "Observe that young man," said I to the Marquis; "we must
accost him."

His joy was beyond expression when, in his turn, he recognised me.

"Ah, sir!" he cried, kissing my hand, "I have then once again an
opportunity of testifying my eternal gratitude to you!" I enquired of
him whence he came. He replied, that he had just arrived, by sea, from
Havre, where he had lately landed from America. "You do not seem to be
too well off for money," said I to him; "go on to the 'Golden Lion,'
where I am lodging; I will join you in a moment."

I returned, in fact, full of impatience to learn the details of his
misfortunes, and the circumstances of his voyage to America. I gave him
a thousand welcomes, and ordered that they should supply him with
everything he wanted. He did not wait to be solicited for the history
of his life. "Sir," said he to me, "your conduct is so generous, that
I should consider it base ingratitude to maintain any reserve towards
you. You shall learn not only my misfortunes and sufferings, but my
faults and most culpable weaknesses. I am sure that, even while you
blame me, you will not refuse me your sympathy."

I should here inform the reader that I wrote down the story almost
immediately after hearing it; and he may, therefore, be assured of the
correctness and fidelity of the narrative. I use the word fidelity
with reference to the substance of reflections and sentiments, which
the young man conveyed in the most graceful language. Here, then, is
his story, which in its progress I shall not encumber with a single
observation that was not his own.

II

I loved Ophelia! forty thousand brothers
Could