d on.
William was now eighteen years of age; the labour of the farm, in which he
engaged, was irksome to him; yet he restrained his inclinations, and toiled
on for his benefactors, who had both become so frail that they required his
aid. By the time he arrived at his twentieth year, his foster parents died
within a few months of each other, and left him possessor of their little
wealth. When spring returned, he made known to his benefactor, the
minister, his resolution of leaving the moor and going into the busy world.
The stock was turned into cash, and William, bidding a long adieu to the
scenes of his youth, set off for the capital, accompanied by the prayers of
the good man for his success. Since the death of his protectors he had worn
his mother's ring, and he had a vague hope that it might, by some way or
other, lead to a discovery of his parents, and enable him to avenge her
murder. All the mild lessons of his teacher upon this point had been vain.
His mind dwelt with a gloomy satisfaction upon a just retribution. At times
his feelings rose to agony--the idea that the guilty individual might be
his own parent, often flashed across his mind and made him love his
ignorance; but, nature prevailing, his wonted desire recurred again, and,
musing thus, he rode on towards Edinburgh, now with the reins resting upon
his horse's neck; and then, when urged by his troubled mind, urging forward
his steed. He stopped at the borders of the moor, and turned towards the
scenes so dear to him, where he had passed what of his life had gone by in
innocence and peace. For the first time, he felt alone in the world; and a
few involuntary tears fell from his eyes--a token of regret due to the
memory of departed worth, and a pleasing recollection of scenes endeared to
him by many tender associations. Thus in pensive meditation he rode on,
undetermined as to his future mode of life. Prior to his setting out,
everything had appeared to his imagination of easy execution; but now he
began to encounter difficulties he had never dreamed of before; and the
sight of Edinburgh, which he reached before nightfall, did not diminish
them. The vastness of the city overpowered him; the stateliness of the
buildings appeared to him the work of giants; and he almost shrank from
entering it, through a feeling of his own littleness. In his approach, his
eyes had been constantly fixed upon the buildings of the Castle, perched
high above the town, and crowning