tes who frequented their house betrayed
them. One of them, who died under their roof, after they had withdrawn
from it into the country, disclosed to his kinsman, who attended his
death-bed, their genuine character.

"The dying man likewise related incidents in which I am deeply
concerned. I have been connected with one by name Welbeck. In his house
I met an unfortunate girl, who was afterwards removed to Mrs. Villars's.
Her name was Clemenza Lodi. Residence in this house, under the control
of a woman like Mrs. Villars and her daughters, must be injurious to her
innocence, and from this control I now come to rescue her."

I turned to the elder, and continued,--"By all that is sacred, I adjure
you to tell me whether Clemenza Lodi be under this roof! If she be not,
whither has she gone? To know this I came hither, and any difficulty or
reluctance in answering will be useless; till an answer be obtained, I
will not go hence."

During this speech, anger had been kindling in the bosom of this woman.
It now burst upon me in a torrent of opprobrious epithets. I was a
villain, a calumniator, a thief. I had lurked about the house, till
those whose sex and strength enabled them to cope with me had gone. I
had entered these doors by fraud. I was a wretch, guilty of the last
excesses of insolence and insult.

To repel these reproaches, or endure them, was equally useless. The
satisfaction that I sought was only to be gained by searching the house.
I left the room without speaking. Did I act illegally in passing from
one story and one room to another? Did I really deserve the imputations
of rashness and insolence? My behaviour, I well know, was ambiguous and
hazardous, and perhaps wanting in discretion, but my motives were
unquestionably pure. I aimed at nothing but the rescue of a human
creature from distress and dishonour.

I pretend not to the wisdom of experience and age; to the praise of
forethought or subtlety. I choose the obvious path, and pursue it with
headlong expedition. Good intentions, unaided by knowledge, will,
perhaps, produce more injury than benefit, and therefore knowledge must
be gained, but the acquisition is not momentary; is not bestowed unasked
and untoiled for. Meanwhile, we must not be inactive because we are
ignorant. Our good purposes must hurry to performance, whether our
knowledge be greater or less.

CHAPTER XXXV.

To explore the house in this manner was so contrary to ordinary rules,