Overcome with surprise, the boy still remained immovable, and the old man addressed the stranger. “Has she not yet arrived? the sun is high—it must be noon-day.” “It is reason enough for her detention,” replied the other, in a half impatient voice, the tones of which were deep and clear, “that I have gone forth to meet her. All objects that I seek elude my pursuit: there is a curse upon my every pathway.” “Give not way to repinings, my son, turn thine eyes upon the blessings that remain to thee, which far exceed the deserts of the best of men.” “Talk not to me of blessings, my father,” replied the other. “If there crawls upon the earth a living being deserving of pity, I am that man. My food no longer nourishes me, my sleep fails to refresh me, my devotions do not comfort me—all that is necessary and cheering to me has turned to poison. Vegetating on the same spot, fancy, feeling, judgment and health gradually decaying, like a tree whose bark has been destroyed—I have been a man more sinned against than sinning.” “He who is immured in a living grave like this,” he continued, after an instant’s pause, “may well wish for one yet more calm and sequestered. Let us go forth, and challenge the death that awaits us. Hunted by bloodhounds, our fate is doomed. Rather, then, let it come at once than hold us longer in this state of misery.” “William,” said the old man, “would’st thou rashly cast away the boon of life that God has given thee? Canst thou be fated to death simply because the word of a vindictive king has gone forth against thee? Nay, my son, let us abide the Lord’s time, and endure here unto the end, that we may obtain a crown of rejoicing hereafter. And,” he added, while a tear dimmed his eye, “would you leave Alice and your child?” “William,” pursued the aged man, “you forbade me but now to tell you of blessings. But, surely, thou art strangely unthankful for thine—even for the incalculable blessing thou hast in that noble-minded woman. Hath she not accompanied us hither, and cheered and sustained us with her angel presence?” “My father, drive me not to frenzy,” exclaimed the other. “You have struck the chord which another touch would break. It is the sight of her, dearer to me than life itself—immured in this ghostly hiding-place, and day by day, growing thin and waxing pale, and smiling in the midst of misery, that is more than I can bear. And it is I who have brought this evil upon her. But for me, she might now have been blooming in increasing beauty in some brilliant destiny beyond the seas. Never were the bright prospects of opening life more cruelly dashed. And can she, frail as she is, much longer sustain the effort by which she has met this stroke of fortune? Will not the reaction, when it comes, be too terrible to be borne? Oh, God, the thought of her is agony!” and he covered his face with his hands.