In my case he found that I was in
possession of some information, more than he was aware of, without its
being possible for him to decide to what it amounted, whether I had
heard a just or unjust, a candid or calumniatory tale. He had also
reason to suppose that I gave entertainment to thoughts derogatory to
his honour, and that I did not form that favourable judgment, which the
exquisite refinement of his ruling passion made indispensable to his
peace. All these considerations would of course maintain in him a state
of perpetual uneasiness. But, though I could find nothing that I could
consider as justifying me in persisting in the shadow of a doubt, yet,
as I have said, the uncertainty and restlessness of my contemplations
would by no means depart from me.

The fluctuating state of my mind produced a contention of opposite
principles, that by turns usurped dominion over my conduct. Sometimes I
was influenced by the most complete veneration for my master; I placed
an unreserved confidence in his integrity and his virtue, and implicitly
surrendered my understanding for him to set it to what point he pleased.
At other times the confidence, which had before flowed with the most
plenteous tide, began to ebb; I was, as I had already been, watchful,
inquisitive, suspicious, full of a thousand conjectures as to the
meaning of the most indifferent actions. Mr. Falkland, who was most
painfully alive to every thing that related to his honour, saw these
variations, and betrayed his consciousness of them now in one manner,
and now in another, frequently before I was myself aware, sometimes
almost before they existed. The situation of both was distressing; we
were each of us a plague to the other; and I often wondered, that the
forbearance and benignity of my master was not at length exhausted, and
that he did not determine to thrust from him for ever so incessant an
observer. There was indeed one eminent difference between his share in
the transaction and mine. I had some consolation in the midst of my
restlessness. Curiosity is a principle that carries its pleasures, as
well as its pains, along with it. The mind is urged by a perpetual
stimulus; it seems as if it were continually approaching to the end of
its race; and as the insatiable desire of satisfaction is its principle
of conduct, so it promises itself in that satisfaction an unknown
gratification, which seems as if it were capable of fully compensating
any injuries that m