able, I will
add, not to throw down his last guinea, in satisfaction of such demands.
He never suspected villany in the business. He paid his losses,
therefore; and in less than a week afterwards, an inquest sat upon his
body, which was found at the bottom of his own fish pond.

I had my share of this infernal plunder; but so ravenous had been
my appetite for revenge, that not one pang of remorse disturbed the
riotous enjoyments in which it was lavished. On the contrary, the very
consciousness that it _was_ my uncle's money I squandered, gave a
zest to every excess, and seemed to appease the gnawing passions which
had so long tormented me. In two or three years, however, boundless
extravagance, and the gaming-table, stripped me of my last shilling.
It was in one of the frenzied moments of this profligate reverse of
fortune, that I committed the crime for which, if to-morrow dawned
upon me, I should be publicly arraigned.

Fitzroy had been fortunate the whole night. I had thrown with constant
bad luck. He had pocketed some hundreds; I had lost more than I could
pay. I asked him for a temporary loan of fifty pounds, to make good what
I owed, and stake the small remaining sum for the chance of retrieving
all. He refused me. It was the first time he had ever done so. But he
not _only_ refused me, he taunted me with sarcastic reproofs for my
folly, and muttered something about the uselessness of assisting a man
who, if he had thousands, would scatter them like dust. He should have
chosen a fitter moment to exhort me, than when I was galled by my
losses, and by his denial of my request. I was heated with wine too; and
half mad with despair, half mad with drink, I sprang upon him, tore him
to the earth, and before the by-standers could interfere to separate us,
I had buried a knife, which I snatched from a table near me, up to the
handle in his heart! He screamed--convulsively grappled me by the
throat---and expired! His death-gripe was so fierce and powerful, that I
believe had we been alone, his murderer would have been found strangled
by his side. It was with difficulty that the horror-struck witnesses of
this bloody scene could force open his clenched hands time enough to let
me breathe.

I have done! I remember, as if it were but yesterday, the silent
response which my heart made, when my uncle pronounced that withering
sentence on me. "No!" was my indignant exclamation; "I may deserve a
hundred public deaths; but if I