ss I
will entreat the assistance of this friend."

These words roused a new spirit in Welbeck. His confusion and anger
increased. His tongue faltered as he exclaimed, "Good God! what mean
you? Headlong and rash as you are, you will not share with this person
your knowledge of me?" Here he checked himself, conscious that the words
he had already uttered tended to the very end which he dreaded. This
consciousness, added to the terror of more ample disclosures, which the
simplicity and rectitude of Mervyn might prompt him to make, chained up
his tongue, and covered him with dismay.

Mervyn was not long in answering:--"I comprehend your fears and your
wishes. I am bound to tell you the truth. To this person your story has
already been told. Whatever I have witnessed under your roof, whatever I
have heard from your lips, have been faithfully disclosed to him."

The countenance of Welbeck now betrayed a mixture of incredulity and
horror. For a time his utterance was stifled by his complicated
feelings:--

"It cannot be. So enormous a deed is beyond thy power. Thy qualities are
marvellous. Every new act of thine outstrips the last, and belies the
newest calculations. But this--this perfidy exceeds--this outrage upon
promises, this violation of faith, this blindness to the future, is
incredible." There he stopped; while his looks seemed to call upon
Mervyn for a contradiction of his first assertion.

"I know full well how inexpiably stupid or wicked my act will appear to
you, but I will not prevaricate or lie. I repeat, that every thing is
known to him. Your birth; your early fortunes; the incidents at
Charleston and Wilmington; your treatment of the brother and sister;
your interview with Watson, and the fatal issue of that interview--I
have told him all, just as it was told to me."

Here the shock that was felt by Welbeck overpowered his caution and his
strength. He sunk upon the side of the bed. His air was still
incredulous, and he continued to gaze upon Mervyn. He spoke in a tone
less vehement:--

"And hast thou then betrayed me? Hast thou shut every avenue to my
return to honour? Am I known to be a seducer and assassin? To have
meditated all crimes, and to have perpetrated the worst?

"Infamy and death are my portion. I know they are reserved for me; but I
did not think to receive them at thy hands, that under that innocent
guise there lurked a heart treacherous and cruel. But go; leave me to
myself. This stroke