Edgar Huntly | Page 6

with firmness?
If forbearance be the dictate of wisdom, cannot it be so deeply
engraven on my mind as to defy all temptation, and be proof against the
most abrupt surprise? My late experience has been of use to me. It has
shown me my weakness and my strength. Having found my ancient
fortifications insufficient to withstand the enemy, what should I learn
from thence but that it becomes me to strengthen and enlarge them?
"No caution, indeed, can hinder the experiment from being hazardous.
Is it wise to undertake experiments by which nothing can be gained,
and much may be lost? Curiosity is vicious, if undisciplined by reason,
and inconducive to benefit."
I was not, however, to be diverted from my purpose. Curiosity, like
virtue, is its own reward. Knowledge is of value for its own sake, and
pleasure is annexed to the acquisition, without regard to any thing

beyond. It is precious even when disconnected with moral inducements
and heartfelt sympathies; but the knowledge which I sought by its
union with these was calculated to excite the most complex and fiery
sentiments in my bosom.
Hours were employed in revolving these thoughts. At length I began to
be sensible of fatigue, and, returning home, explored the way to my
chamber without molesting the repose of the family. You know that our
doors are always unfastened, and are accessible at all hours of the
night.
My slumbers were imperfect, and I rejoiced when the morning light
permitted me to resume my meditations. The day glided away, I
scarcely know how, and, as I had rejoiced at the return of morning, I
now hailed, with pleasure, the approach of night.
My uncle and sisters having retired, I betook myself, instead of
following their example, to the _Chestnut-hill_. Concealed among its
rocks, or gazing at the prospect which stretched so far and so wide
around it, my fancy has always been accustomed to derive its highest
enjoyment from this spot. I found myself again at leisure to recall the
scene which I had witnessed during the last night, to imagine its
connection with the fate of Waldegrave, and to plan the means of
discovering the secret that was hidden under these appearances.
Shortly, I began to feel insupportable disquiet at the thoughts of
postponing this discovery. Wiles and stratagems were practicable, but
they were tedious, and of dubious success. Why should I proceed like a
plotter? Do I intend the injury of this person? A generous purpose will
surely excuse me from descending to artifices. There are two modes of
drawing forth the secrets of another,--by open and direct means and by
circuitous and indirect. Why scruple to adopt the former mode? Why
not demand a conference, and state my doubts, and demand a solution
of them, in a manner worthy of a beneficent purpose? Why not hasten
to the spot? He may be, at this moment, mysteriously occupied under
this shade. I may note his behaviour; I may ascertain his person, if not
by the features that belong to him, yet by tracing his footsteps when he
departs, and pursuing him to his retreats.

I embraced this scheme, which was thus suggested, with eagerness. I
threw myself with headlong speed down the hill and pursued my way
to the elm. As I approached the tree, my palpitations increased, though
my pace slackened. I looked forward with an anxious glance. The trunk
of the tree was hidden in the deepest shade. I advanced close up to it.
No one was visible, but I was not discouraged. The hour of his coming
was, perhaps, not arrived. I took my station at a small distance, beside a
fence, on the right hand.
An hour elapsed before my eyes lighted on the object of which they
were in search. My previous observation had been roving from one
quarter to another. At last, it dwelt upon the tree. The person whom I
before described was seated on the ground. I had not perceived him
before, and the means by which he placed himself in this situation had
escaped my notice. He seemed like one whom an effort of will, without
the exercise of locomotion, had transported hither, or made visible. His
state of disarray, and the darkness that shrouded him, prevented me, as
before, from distinguishing any peculiarities in his figure or
countenance.
I continued watchful and mute. The appearances already described took
place on this occasion, except the circumstance of digging in the earth.
He sat musing for a while, then burst into sighs and lamentations.
These being exhausted, he rose to depart. He stalked away with a
solemn and deliberate pace. I resolved to tread, as closely as possible,
in his footsteps, and not to lose sight of him till the termination of his
career.