“Houseman was to have come to me at midnight, just before Clarke left his house, but it was nearly two hours after that time ere he arrived. I was then walking to and fro before my own door; I saw that he was not alone, but with Clarke. ‘Ha!’ said he, ‘this is fortunate, I see you are just going home. You were engaged, I recollect, at some distance from the town, and have, I suppose, just returned. Will you admit Mr. Clarke and myself for a short time--for to tell you the truth,’ said he, in a lower voice--‘The watchman is about, and we must not be seen by him! I have told Clarke that he may trust you, we are relatives!’ “Clarke, who seemed strangely credulous and indifferent, considering the character of his associate,--but those whom fate destroys she first blinds, made the same request in a careless tone, assigning the same cause. Unwillingly, I opened the door and admitted them. We went up to my chamber. Clarke spoke with the utmost unconcern of the fraud he purposed, and with a heartlessness that made my veins boil, of the poor victim his brutality had destroyed. All this was as iron bands round my purpose. They stayed for nearly an hour, for the watchman remained some time in that beat--and then Houseman asked me to accompany them a little way out of the town. Clarke seconded the request. We walked forth; the rest--why need I repeat? Houseman lied in the court; my hand struck--but not the death-blow: yet, from that hour, I have never given that right hand in pledge of love or friendship--the curse of memory has clung to it.