“And so I intended; but Fate, as you would say, or the Devil, as I should, ordered it otherwise. I had not long left you, when I fell in with some old friends, bold spirits and true; the brave outlaws of the road and the field. Shall I have any shame in confessing that I preferred their society, a society not unfamiliar to me, to the dull and solitary life that I might have led in tending my old bed-ridden relation in Wales, who after all, may live these twenty years, and at the end can scarce leave me enough for a week’s ill luck at the hazard-table? In a word, I joined my gallant friends, and entrusted myself to their guidance. Since then, we have cruised around the country, regaled ourselves cheerily, frightened the timid, silenced the fractious, and by the help of your fate, or my devil, have found ourselves by accident, brought to exhibit our valour in this very district, honoured by the dwelling-place of my learned friend, Eugene Aram.” “Trifle not with me, Houseman,” said Aram sternly; “I scarcely yet understand you. Do you mean to imply, that yourself, and the lawless associates you say you have joined, are lying out now for plunder in these parts?” “You say it: perhaps you heard of our exploits last night, some four miles hence?” “Ha! was that villainy yours?” “Villainy!” repeated Houseman, in a tone of sullen offence. “Come, Master Aram, these words must not pass between you and me, friends of such date, and on such a footing.” “Talk not of the past,” replied Aram with a livid lip, “and call not those whom Destiny once, in despite of Nature, drove down her dark tide in a momentary companionship, by the name of friends. Friends we are not; but while we live, there is a tie between us stronger than that of friendship.” “You speak truth and wisdom,” said Houseman, sneeringly; “for my part, I care not what you call us, friends or foes.” “Foes, foes!” exclaimed Aram abruptly, “not that. Has life no medium in its ties?--pooh--pooh! not foes; we may not be foes to each other.” “It were foolish, at least at present,” said Houseman carelessly. “Look you, Houseman,” continued Aram drawing his comrade from the path into a wilder part of the scene, and, as he spoke, his words were couched in a more low and inward voice than heretofore. “Look you, I cannot live and have my life darkened thus by your presence. Is not the world wide enough for us both? Why haunt each other? what have you to gain from me? Can the thoughts that my sight recalls to you be brighter, or more peaceful, than those which start upon me, when I gaze on you? Does not a ghastly air, a charnel breath, hover about us both? Why perversely incur a torture it is so easy to avoid? Leave me--leave these scenes. All earth spreads before you--choose your pursuits, and your resting place elsewhere, but grudge me not this little spot.”