w. I did not regard myself as responsible for any damage I had
caused in breaking away from my persecutors. Not only Tom, but my uncle,
was engaged in a conspiracy against me, in which they had been concerned
from my early childhood. Indeed, I had already come to the conclusion
that the cottage and grounds had been purchased with money which
rightfully belonged to me.

Judging from the conversations to which I had listened, detached and
indefinite as they were, I was satisfied that my uncle and his son
intended to cheat me out of my birthright, and out of the inheritance my
father had left for me. But this was nothing compared with the
statement of my uncle that my mother was insane, and the fact that I was
not permitted to know even where she was. I began to doubt whether she
was insane, or had ever been. It was possible that my uncle, to obtain
his brother's property, had confined her in a lunatic asylum on a mere
pretence. My blood boiled with indignation as I thought of these things,
and I did not wonder that my uncle could not sleep nights, that he was a
misanthrope, and hated the sound of his own and of other people's
voices.

With such provocation I could have justified myself in smashing all the
windows in the cottage, or even in burning the house to the ground. I
thanked God that I had escaped, when I stood upon the roof; and without
the loss of a moment, I made my way to the ground. I caught one glance
of Tom's face as he came to the window before my descent. But he was
active and resolute, and almost as soon as I reached the ground, he had
descended the stairs, and passed out upon the lawn in front of the
house.

There was nothing more at the cottage for me, and now all I wanted was
to get on board of the Splash. My skiff was destroyed, and my pursuer
would not permit me to build a raft. I could have swum off to her; but
the water might injure, if not ruin, the priceless document in my
pocket. Tom was at my heels, and all I could do was to run.

"Stop!" shouted Tom.

I ran all the faster when the sound of his voice assured me how near he
was.

"Stop! If you don't stop, I'll shoot you!" cried he.

I glanced over my shoulder, and saw that he had my fowling-piece in his
hand; at least there was no other gun about the place. But I was not
much alarmed by the threat, for the gun had not been used for months,
and I did not believe it was in condition to go off. The wretch expected
to frighten me by this de