of this history of myself, and of my sufferings,
I had to gather strength for the task: one fatal day stood out
in dreadful prominence; and to describe it was to live over
again its agonising hours. Again I feel the same kind of
emotion; again I must pause; for I am arrived at that moment
which dragged me down a step lower into the abyss which I had
seen from afar off, and from which I had vainly struggled to
recede. For days, for weeks, I have shut up this book, and put
it aside as an enemy whose sight I feared; but, like the
rattlesnake, this very fear fascinates and subdues me; and as
the stern spells of memory cannot be conjured away, they must
be braved and conquered.

CHAPTER XV.

"'La douleur a trahi les secrets de son ame,
Et ne nous permet plus de douter de sa flamme."

RACINE.

"Cet Hymen m'est fatal, je crains et le souhaite,
Je n'ose en esperer qu'une Joie imparfaite.
..................
Que je meurs s'il s'acheve ou ne s'acheve pas."

CORNEILLE.

One morning, after we had been a few days at Hampstead, I felt
the greatest wish to slip quietly out of the house and stroll
about alone for an hour or two. I had been in the habit of
doing so at Elmsley, and I found nothing so effectual as this
in subduing agitation, and recalling my mind to a state of
composure. After making the tour of the grounds, walking round
the lake, and dawdling some time in the shrubberies, I opened
a small gate into a lane which led towards the common. This
lane was scarcely wider than a path, and was only divided from
the grounds of the villa by a ditch and a slight railing. I
was intently occupied in examining an ant's nest, and the
various evolutions performed by its black citizens on the
sudden fall of a snail among them, which had dropt off a
branch of dog-roses while I was gathering it, when all at once
a sound as of many people running, joined to loud cries and
vociferations, caught my ear. There was something ominous in
the noise, and my heart beat quick as I looked with a mixture
of fear and curiosity towards the end of the lane which opened
on the heath. The noise increased; and suddenly round the
corner and into the lane dashed a dog, followed by several men
armed with pitchforks, and shouting. The appalling cry of "A
mad dog! a mad dog!" struck distinctly upon my ears, and
brought a deadly faintness over my limbs, and a cold sweat on
my forehead. I tried to run, and my strength utter