e fixed his eyes upon the floor,
and no gesture or look indicated the smallest suspicion of my conduct.
After some pause, he continued, in a more pathetic tone, while his whole
frame seemed to partake of his mental agitation.

I am greatly at a loss by what means to impress you with a full
conviction of the truth of what I have just said. Endless are the
sophistries by which we seduce ourselves into perilous and doubtful
paths. What we do not see, we disbelieve, or we heed not. The sword may
descend upon our infatuated head from above, but we who are, meanwhile,
busily inspecting the ground at our feet, or gazing at the scene around
us, are not aware or apprehensive of its irresistible coming. In this
case, it must not be seen before it is felt, or before that time comes
when the danger of incurring it is over. I cannot withdraw the veil, and
disclose to your view the exterminating angel. All must be vacant and
blank, and the danger that stands armed with death at your elbow must
continue to be totally invisible, till that moment when its vengeance is
provoked or unprovokable. I will do my part to encourage you in good, or
intimidate you from evil. I am anxious to set before you all the motives
which are fitted to influence your conduct; but how shall I work on your
convictions?

Here another pause ensued, which I had not courage enough to interrupt.
He presently resumed.

Perhaps you recollect a visit which you paid, on Christmas day, in the
year ----, to the cathedral church at Toledo. Do you remember?

A moment's reflection recalled to my mind all the incidents of that day.
I had good reason to remember them. I felt no small trepidation when
Ludloe referred me to that day, for, at the moment, I was doubtful
whether there had not been some bivocal agency exerted On that occasion.
Luckily, however, it was almost the only similar occasion in which it
had been wholly silent.

I answered in the affirmative. I remember them perfectly.

And yet, said Ludloe, with a smile that seemed intended to disarm this
declaration of some of its terrors, I suspect your recollection is not
as exact as mine, nor, indeed, your knowledge as extensive. You met
there, for the first time, a female, whose nominal uncle, but real
father, a dean of that ancient church, resided in a blue stone house,
the third from the west angle of the square of St. Jago.

All this was exactly true.

This female, continued he, fell in love with you. Her