Edgar Huntly | Page 3

or withhold punishment was to violate my
duty to my God and to mankind. The impulse was gradually awakened
that bade me once more to seek the elm; once more to explore the
ground; to scrutinize its trunk. What could I expect to find? Had it not
been a hundred times examined? Had I not extended my search to the
neighbouring groves and precipices? Had I not pored upon the brooks,
and pried into the pits and hollows, that were adjacent to the scene of
blood?
Lately I had viewed this conduct with shame and regret; but in the
present state of my mind it assumed the appearance of conformity with
prudence, and I felt myself irresistibly prompted to repeat my search.
Some time had elapsed since my departure from this district,--time
enough for momentous changes to occur. Expedients that formerly
were useless might now lead instantaneously to the end which I sought.
The tree which had formerly been shunned by the criminal might, in
the absence of the avenger of blood, be incautiously approached.
Thoughtless or fearless of my return, it was possible that he might, at
this moment, be detected hovering near the scene of his offences.
Nothing can be pleaded in extenuation of this relapse into folly. My
return, after an absence of some duration, into the scene of these
transactions and sufferings, the time of night, the glimmering of the
stars, the obscurity in which external objects were wrapped, and which,
consequently, did not draw my attention from the images of fancy, may
in some degree account for the revival of those sentiments and
resolutions which immediately succeeded the death of Waldegrave, and
which, during my visit to you, had been suspended.
You know the situation of the elm, in the midst of a private road, on the
verge of Norwalk, near the habitation of Inglefield, but three miles
from my uncle's house. It was now my intention to visit it. The road in
which I was travelling led a different way. It was requisite to leave it,
therefore, and make a circuit through meadows and over steeps. My
journey would, by these means, be considerably prolonged; but on that

head I was indifferent, or rather, considering how far the night had
already advanced, it was desirable not to reach home till the dawn.
I proceeded in this new direction with speed. Time, however, was
allowed for my impetuosities to subside, and for sober thoughts to take
place. Still I persisted in this path. To linger a few moments in this
shade, to ponder on objects connected with events so momentous to my
happiness, promised me a mournful satisfaction. I was familiar with the
way, though trackless and intricate, and I climbed the steeps, crept
through the brambles, leaped the rivulets and fences with undeviating
aim, till at length I reached the craggy and obscure path which led to
Inglefield's house.
In a short time, I descried through the dusk the widespread branches of
the elm. This tree, however faintly seen, cannot be mistaken for another.
The remarkable bulk and shape of its trunk, its position in the midst of
the way, its branches spreading into an ample circumference, made it
conspicuous from afar. My pulse throbbed as I approached it.
My eyes were eagerly bent to discover the trunk and the area beneath
the shade. These, as I approached, gradually became visible. The trunk
was not the only thing which appeared in view. Somewhat else, which
made itself distinguishable by its motions, was likewise noted. I
faltered and stopped.
To a casual observer this appearance would have been unnoticed. To
me, it could not but possess a powerful significance. All my surmises
and suspicions instantly returned. This apparition was human, it was
connected with the fate of Waldegrave, it led to a disclosure of the
author of that fate. What was I to do? To approach unwarily would
alarm the person. Instant flight would set him beyond discovery and
reach.
I walked softly to the roadside. The ground was covered with rocky
masses, scattered among shrub-oaks and dwarf-cedars, emblems of its
sterile and uncultivated state. Among these it was possible to elude
observation and yet approach near enough to gain an accurate view of
this being.

At this time, the atmosphere was somewhat illuminated by the moon,
which, though it had already set, was yet so near the horizon as to
benefit me by its light. The shape of a man, tall and robust, was now
distinguished. Repeated and closer scrutiny enabled me to perceive that
he was employed in digging the earth. Something like flannel was
wrapped round his waist and covered his lower limbs. The rest of his
frame was naked. I did not recognise in him any one whom I knew.
A figure, robust