he first pages of my
narrative.

My mind was already raised to its utmost pitch. In a window-seat of the
room lay a number of chisels and other carpenter's tools. I know not
what infatuation instantaneously seized me. The idea was too powerful to
be resisted. I forgot the business upon which I came, the employment of
the servants, and the urgency of general danger. I should have done the
same if the flames that seemed to extend as they proceeded, and already
surmounted the house, had reached this very apartment. I snatched a tool
suitable for the purpose, threw myself upon the ground, and applied with
eagerness to a magazine which inclosed all for which my heart panted.
After two or three efforts, in which the energy of uncontrollable
passion was added to my bodily strength, the fastenings gave way, the
trunk opened, and all that I sought was at once within my reach.

I was in the act of lifting up the lid, when Mr. Falkland entered, wild,
breathless, distracted in his looks! He had been brought home from a
considerable distance by the sight of the flames. At the moment of his
appearance the lid dropped down from my hand. He no sooner saw me than
his eyes emitted sparks of rage. He ran with eagerness to a brace of
loaded pistols which hung in the room, and, seizing one, presented it to
my head. I saw his design, and sprang to avoid it; but, with the same
rapidity with which he had formed his resolution, he changed it, and
instantly went to the window, and flung the pistol into the court below.
He bade me begone with his usual irresistible energy; and, overcome as
I was already by the horror of the detection, I eagerly complied.

A moment after, a considerable part of the chimney tumbled with noise
into the court below, and a voice exclaimed that the fire was more
violent than ever. These circumstances seemed to produce a mechanical
effect upon my patron, who, having first locked the closet, appeared on
the outside of the house, ascended the roof, and was in a moment in
every place where his presence was required. The flames were at length
extinguished.

The reader can with difficulty form a conception of the state to which I
was now reduced. My act was in some sort an act of insanity; but how
undescribable are the feelings with which I looked back upon it! It was
an instantaneous impulse, a short-lived and passing alienation of mind;
but what must Mr. Falkland think of that alienation? To any man a person
who had on