r the penalty of the law, less innocent than
poor Justine had been. Such were my thoughts when the door of my
apartment was opened and Mr. Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed
sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine and addressed me
in French, "I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do
anything to make you more comfortable?"

"I thank you, but all that you mention is nothing to me; on the whole
earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving."

"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to
one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I
hope, soon quit this melancholy abode, for doubtless evidence can
easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge."

"That is my least concern; I am, by a course of strange events, become
the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and
have been, can death be any evil to me?"

"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than the
strange chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some
surprising accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality,
seized immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was
presented to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so
unaccountable a manner and placed, as it were, by some fiend across
your path."

As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on
this retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at
the knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some
astonishment was exhibited in my countenance, for Mr. Kirwin hastened
to say, "Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that
were on your person were brought me, and I examined them that I might
discover some trace by which I could send to your relations an account
of your misfortune and illness. I found several letters, and, among
others, one which I discovered from its commencement to be from your
father. I instantly wrote to Geneva; nearly two months have elapsed
since the departure of my letter. But you are ill; even now you
tremble; you are unfit for agitation of any kind."

"This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event;
tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am
now to lament?"

"Your family is perfectly well," said Mr. Kirwin with gentleness; "and
someone, a friend, is come to visit you."

I know not b