he world.

I did not fully perceive the necessity of secrecy; but this necessity
perhaps would be rendered apparent, when I should come to know the
connection that subsisted between Europe and this imaginary colony.
But what was to be done? I was willing to abide by these conditions.
My understanding might not approve of all the ends proposed by this
fraternity, and I had liberty to withdraw from it, or to refuse to ally
myself with them. That the obligation of secrecy should still remain,
was unquestionably reasonable.

It appeared to be the plan of Ludloe rather to damp than to stimulate my
zeal. He discouraged all attempts to renew the subject in conversation.
He dwelt upon the arduousness of the office to which I aspired, the
temptations to violate my duty with which I should be continually beset,
the inevitable death with which the slightest breach of my engagements
would be followed, and the long apprenticeship which it would be
necessary for me to serve, before I should be fitted to enter into this
conclave.

Sometimes my courage was depressed by these representations. ..... My
zeal, however, was sure to revive; and at length Ludloe declared himself
willing to assist me in the accomplishment of my wishes. For this
end, it was necessary, he said, that I should be informed of a second
obligation, which every candidate must assume. Before any one could be
deemed qualified, he must be thoroughly known to his associates. For
this end, he must determine to disclose every fact in his history, and
every secret of his heart. I must begin with making these confessions
with regard to my past life, to Ludloe, and must continue to
communicate, at stated seasons, every new thought, and every new
occurrence, to him. This confidence was to be absolutely limitless: no
exceptions were to be admitted, and no reserves to be practised; and
the same penalty attended the infraction of this rule as of the former.
Means would be employed, by which the slightest deviation, in either
case, would be detected, and the deathful consequence would follow
with instant and inevitable expedition. If secrecy were difficult to
practise, sincerity, in that degree in which it was here demanded, was
a task infinitely more arduous, and a period of new deliberation was
necessary before I should decide. I was at liberty to pause: nay, the
longer was the period of deliberation which I took, the better; but,
when I had once entered this path, it was not