The Watcher | Page 8

after the occurrence that he mentioned it,
and then in strict confidence, to a gentleman, whom the torments of his
mind at last compelled him to consult.
Spite of his blue devils, however, poor Barton, having no satisfactory
reason to render to the public for any undue remissness in the attentions
which his relation to Miss Montague required, was obliged to exert
himself, and present to the world a confident and cheerful bearing. The
true source of his sufferings, and every circumstance connected with
them, he guarded with a reserve so jealous, that it seemed dictated by at
least a suspicion that the origin of his strange persecution was known to
himself, and that it was of a nature which, upon his own account, he
could not or dared not disclose.
The mind thus turned in upon itself, and constantly occupied with a
haunting anxiety which it dared not reveal, or confide to any human
breast, became daily more excited, and, of course, more vividly
impressible, by a system of attack which operated through the nervous
system; and in this state he was destined to sustain, with increasing
frequency, the stealthy visitations of that apparition, which from the
first had seemed to possess so unearthly and terrible a hold upon his
imagination.
* * *
It was about this time that Captain Barton called upon the then
celebrated preacher, Doctor Macklin, with whom he had a slight
acquaintance, and an extraordinary conversation ensued. The divine
was seated in his chambers in college, surrounded with works upon his
favourite pursuit, and deep in theology, when Barton was announced.
There was something at once embarrassed and excited in his manner,
which, along with his wan and haggard countenance, impressed the
student with the unpleasant consciousness that his visitor must have
recently suffered terribly indeed to account for an alternation so

striking, almost shocking.
After the usual interchange of polite greeting, and a few common-place
remarks, Captain Barton, who obviously perceived the surprise which
his visit had excited, and which Doctor Macklin was unable wholly to
conceal, interrupted a brief pause by remarking: --
"This is a strange call, Doctor Macklin, perhaps scarcely warranted by
an acquaintance so slight as mine with you. I should not, under
ordinary circumstances, have ventured to disturb you; but my visit is
neither an idle nor impertinent intrusion. I am sure you will not so
account it, when--"
Doctor Macklin interrupted him with assurances, such as good breeding
suggested, and Barton resumed: --
"I am come to task your patience by asking your advice. When I say
your patience, I might, indeed, say more; I might have said your
humanity, your compassion; for I have been, and am a great sufferer."
"My dear sir," replied the churchman, "it will, indeed, afford me
infinite gratification if I can give you comfort in any distress of mind,
but--but--"
"I know what you would say," resumed Barton, quickly; "I am an
unbeliever, and, therefore, incapable of deriving help from religion, but
don't take that for granted. At least you must not assume that, however
unsettled my convictions may be, I do not feel a deep, a very deep,
interest in the subject. Circumstances have lately forced it upon my
attention, in such a way as to compel me to review the whole question
in a more candid and teachable spirit, I believe, than I ever studied it in
before."
"Your difficulties, I take it for granted, refer to the evidences of
revelation," suggested the clergyman.
"Why--no--yes; in fact I am ashamed to say I have not considered even
my objections sufficiently to state them connectedly; but--but there is

one subject on which I feel a peculiar interest."
He paused again, and Doctor Macklin pressed him to proceed.
"The fact is," said Barton, "whatever may be my uncertainty as to the
authenticity of what we are taught to call revelation, of one fact I am
deeply and horribly convinced, that there does exist beyond this a
spiritual world--a system whose workings are generally in mercy
hidden from us--a system which may be, and which is sometimes,
partially and terribly revealed. I am sure, I know," continued Barton,
with increasing excitement, "there is a God--a dreadful God--and that
retribution follows guilt. In ways, the most mysterious and stupendous;
by agencies, the most inexplicable and terrific; there is a spiritual
system--great God, how frightfully I have been convinced!--a system
malignant, and inexorable, and omnipotent, under whose persecutions I
am, and have been, suffering the torments of the damned! --yes,
sir--yes -- the fires and frenzy of hell!"
As Barton spoke, his agitation became so vehement that the divine was
shocked and even alarmed. The wild and excited rapidity with which he
spoke, and, above all, the indefinable horror which stamped his features,
afforded a contrast