ul. Who could feel
pleasure in a vice so bestial?"

"Habit, Noah, reconciles us to many things which at first awaken only
aversion and disgust. All pleasure which has its foundation in sin must
end in pain and self-condemnation. Drunkenness is one of those vices
which when first indulged creates the deepest shame and humiliation; but
custom renders it a terrible necessity."

My mother could preach well against any vice to which she was not
particularly inclined herself. I never saw her take a glass of wine or
spirits in my life. This was from sheer want of inclination; all strong
drinks were disagreeable to her taste.

I took a cup of tea, and after immersing my head in cold water, the
nausea from which I was suffering gradually abated, and I soon felt well
again. While I was standing at the open window I saw Adam Hows and Bill
Martin pass the lodge. They were in earnest conversation. I called to
Adam, and asked him, "If he were going to see the cricket-match?"

He answered, that it depended upon the loan of a horse. Harry Barber had
promised them his; but it had broken pasture, and they were going in
search of it.

I did not believe this statement. I was certain that it was intended for
a blind. I told Adam, that in case he did not find Barber's horse, I
would lend him mine. He was profuse of thanks, but did not accept my
offer. He was certain of finding the lost animal in time: he was going
to drive over his friend to S----, and my mare did not go in harness. I
took no notice of his companion. For many months we had never spoken to
each other--not even to exchange insults. At four o'clock in the
afternoon I heard that they were drinking in a low tavern just out of
the village. If I did not keep my appointment with 'Squire Carlos, I
felt convinced that they would.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE MURDER.

All day I was restless, and unable to settle to the least thing. My
mother attributed my irritation and ill-humour to the brandy I had drunk
on the preceding evening. As the night drew on, I was in a perfect fever
of excitement; yet not for one moment did I abandon the dreadful
project. I had argued myself into the belief that it was my fate--that I
was compelled by an inexorable destiny to murder Mr. Carlos. I was to
meet him at ten o'clock--just one hour earlier than the time I had named
to Adam Hows. At eight my mother went to bed, complaining of
indisposition. I was glad of this, for it left me at perfect li