“No more, Kingsley. I tell you, matters must go on. Edgerton can now only be driven from my house by my wife. If she expels him, I shall be too happy not to forgive him. But if she makes it necessary that the expulsion shall be effected by my hands, and with violence--God have mercy upon both of them for I shall not. Good night!” “But why will you go? Stay awhile longer. Be not rash--do nothing precipitately, Clifford.” I smiled bitterly in replying:-- “You need not fear me. Have I not proved myself patient--patient until you pronounced me cold and indifferent? Why should you suppose that, having waited and forborne so long I should be guilty of rashness now? No, Kingsley! My wife is very dear to me--how dear I will not say; I will be deliberate for her sake--for my own. I will be sure, very sure--quite sure;--but, once sure!--Good night.” Kingsley followed me to the door. His last injunctions exhorted me to forbearance and deliberation. I silenced them by a significant repetition of the single words, “Good night--good night!” and hurried, with every feeling of anxiety and jealousy awakened, in the direction of my cottage. CHAPTER XLVI. THE UNBRIDLED MADNESS. The night did not promise to be a good one. The clouds were scudding wildly from east to west. The air was moist and chill. There was no light from moon or stars, and I strode with difficulty, though still rapidly, through the unpaved streets. I was singularly and painfully excited by the conversation with Kingsley. My own experience before, had prepared me to become so, with the slightest additional provocation. Facts were rapidly accumulating to confirm my fears, and lessen my doubts. That dark, meaning letter of Mrs. Delaney! The adventure in the streamlet.--The scream--the look--the secrecy! What a history seemed to be compressed in these few topics. I hurried forward--I was now among the trees. I had almost to grope my way, it was so dark. I was helped forward by some governing instincts. My fiend was busy all the while. I fancied, now, that there was something exulting in his tone. But he drove me forward without forbearance. I felt that these clouds in the sky--this gloom and excitement in my heart--were not for nothing. Every gust of wind brought to me some whisper of fear; and there seemed a constant murmur among the trees--one burden--whose incessant utterance was only shame and wo. How completely the agony of one's spirit sheds its tone of horror upon the surrounding world. How the flowers wither as our hearts wither--how sickly grows sunlight and moonlight, in our despair--how lonely and utter sad is the breath of winds, when our bosoms are about to be laid bare of hope and sustenance by the brooding tempest of our sorrows.