ret's grave. More than this I could not detect, without crossing
over. The passing vehicles and foot-passengers constantly intercepted my
view, from the position in which I stood.

Was this figure, thus visible only by intervals, the figure of Mannion?
and was he really tracking my steps? As the suspicion strengthened in
my mind that it was so, the remembrance of his threat in the churchyard:
"You may shield yourself behind your family and your friends: I will
strike at you through the dearest and the bravest of them--" suddenly
recurred to me; and brought with it a thought which urged me instantly
to proceed on my way. I never looked behind me again, as I now walked
on; for I said within myself:--"If he is following me, I must not, and
will not avoid him: it will be the best result of my departure, that I
shall draw after me that destroying presence; and thus at least remove
it far and safely away from my family and my home!"

So, I neither turned aside from the straight direction, nor hurried my
steps, nor looked back any more. At the time I had resolved on, I left
London for Cornwall, without making any attempt to conceal my departure.
And though I knew that he must surely be following me, still I never saw
him again: never discovered how close or how far off he was on my track.

*****

Two months have passed since that period; and I know no more about him
_now_ than I knew _then._

JOURNAL.

October 19th--My retrospect is finished. I have traced the history of
my errors and misfortunes, of the wrong I have done and the punishment I
have suffered for it, from the past to the present time.

The pages of my manuscript (many more than I thought to write at first)
lie piled together on the table before me. I dare not look them over: I
dare not read the lines which my own hand has traced. There may be much
in my manner of writing that wants alteration; but I have no heart to
return to my task, and revise and reconsider as I might if I were intent
on producing a book which was to be published during my lifetime. Others
will be found, when I am no more, to carve, and smooth, and polish to
the popular taste of the day this rugged material of Truth which I shall
leave behind me.

But now, while I collect these leaves, and seal them up, never to be
opened again by my hands, can I feel that I have related all which it is
necessary to tell? No! While Mannion lives--whi