probably present
herself before me, and demand the reason of my visit. What shall I say
to her? The truth. To falter, or equivocate, or dissemble to this woman
would be wicked. Perhaps her character has been misunderstood and
maligned. Can I render her a greater service than to apprize her of the
aspersions that have rested on it, and afford her the opportunity of
vindication? Perhaps she is indeed selfish and profligate; the betrayer
of youth and the agent of lasciviousness. Does she not deserve to know
the extent of her errors and the ignominy of her trade? Does she not
merit the compassion of the good and the rebukes of the wise? To shrink
from the task would prove me cowardly and unfirm. Thus far, at least,
let my courage extend.

Alas! Clemenza is unacquainted with my language. My thoughts cannot make
themselves apparent but by words, and to my words she will be able to
affix no meaning. Yet is not that a hasty decision? The version from the
dramas of Zeno which I found in her toilet was probably hers, and proves
her to have a speculative knowledge of our tongue. Near half a year has
since elapsed, during which she has dwelt with talkers of English, and
consequently could not fail to have acquired it. This conclusion is
somewhat dubious, but experiment will give it certainty.

Hitherto I had strolled along the path at a lingering pace. Time enough,
methought, to reach your threshold between sunrise and moonlight, if my
way had been three times longer than it was. You were the pleasing
phantom that hovered before me and beckoned me forward. What a total
revolution had occurred in the course of a few seconds! for thus long
did my reasonings with regard to Clemenza and the Villars require to
pass through my understanding, and escape, in half-muttered soliloquy,
from my lips. My muscles trembled with eagerness, and I bounded forward
with impetuosity. I saw nothing but a vista of catalpas, leafless,
loaded with icicles, and terminating in four chimneys and a painted
roof. My fancy outstripped my footsteps, and was busy in picturing faces
and rehearsing dialogues. Presently I reached this new object of my
pursuit, darted through the avenue, noticed that some windows of the
house were unclosed, drew thence a hasty inference that the house was
not without inhabitants, and knocked, quickly and loudly, for admission.

Some one within crept to the door, opened it with seeming caution, and
just far enough to allow the face t