that mistakes will ultimately be
cleared up, justice done, and the true state of things come to light, in
spite of the false colours that may for a time obscure it."

The idea I suggested did not give Mr. Falkland the proper degree of
delight. He suffered a temporary relapse. "Justice!"--he muttered. "I do
not know what is justice. My case is not within the reach of common
remedies; perhaps of none. I only know that I am miserable. I began life
with the best intentions and the most fervid philanthropy; and here I
am--miserable--miserable beyond expression or endurance."

Having said this, he seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and
re-assumed his accustomed dignity and command. "How came this
conversation?" cried he. "Who gave you a right to be my confidant? Base,
artful wretch that you are! learn to be more respectful! Are my passions
to be wound and unwound by an insolent domestic? Do you think I will be
an instrument to be played on at your pleasure, till you have extorted
all the treasures of my soul? Begone, and fear lest you be made to pay
for the temerity you have already committed!"

There was an energy and determination in the gestures with which these
words were accompanied, that did not admit of their being disputed. My
mouth was closed; I felt as if deprived of all share of activity, and
was only able silently and passively to quit the apartment.

CHAPTER III.

Two days subsequent to this conversation, Mr. Falkland ordered me to be
called to him. [I shall continue to speak in my narrative of the silent,
as well as the articulate part of the intercourse between us. His
countenance was habitually animated and expressive, much beyond that of
any other man I have seen. The curiosity which, as I have said,
constituted my ruling passion, stimulated me to make it my perpetual
study. It will also most probably happen, while I am thus employed in
collecting the scattered incidents of my history, that I shall upon some
occasions annex to appearances an explanation which I was far from
possessing at the time, and was only suggested to me through the medium
of subsequent events.]

When I entered the apartment, I remarked in Mr. Falkland's countenance
an unwonted composure. This composure however did not seem to result
from internal ease, but from an effort which, while he prepared himself
for an interesting scene, was exerted to prevent his presence of mind,
and power of voluntary action, from suffering a