"_August 3d._--Brian Marcliffe came to me again; the same odd, mysterious air that I have noticed so long. What can it mean? He can not have found--But no, it's worse than useless having dark forebodings. I shall soon be able to put the sea between me and this cursed golden inferno, Brazil, and with my darling Bertha forget all these fears in the paradise of full purses--England. "_August 4th._--I met him by chance again, coming from the overseer's. Confound it, how demon-like he looked! I will speak to him myself, rather than be in suspense much longer. I should then know the worst, at least. "_August 5th._--Ruin! The worst has come. He does know all about my being behindhand in my accounts, and hints--I can't write down what. Bertha will never marry him but _as the only chance of saving me from exposure_. Can he be devil enough to propose it? "_August 20th._--Am I the same man I was a month ago! Farewell forever, land of diamonds, slaves, and late summers. Farewell lust of gold and dread of disgrace. It is over, I hope, forever. My Bertha--my own now--is sleeping like a lily near me, and the only sound is the splashing of the sea that is bearing me every moment further from my fear. But stay; what have I left behind me! What is there in that glen of mimosas? A rotting corpse. What in men's mouths? The name of murderer. Pray God it be not. Let me think. "On the Monday when I was leaving the office, Brian came again, and asked me to go as far as old Olivenza's coffee plantation. I said I would come, and we set out an hour past sunset. It was a beautiful evening; the skies as pure as the robe of seraphim; the clouds like curls of incense, now hiding, now revealing the dazzling glory of the rising moon--all, save one black streak right across her face, like a spread eagle. Well, we had nearly got to the plantation before Brian spoke; but I saw he was preparing something by the villainous look of his eyes. He began: "'So, Reuben Darke, you have considered my proposition, and agree, of course?' "I believe I professed ignorance of it; for, indeed, he had never said any thing definite. "'The consequences of opposition are as terrible as they are inevitable,' said he, threateningly. "'You can not stoop to such vileness--to such wrong. You know that I am striving for a great end--that I will make restitution full and ample if I live to reach England.' "This was the sense of what I said, but his answer was clearly prepared long before he knew what I should urge. It came gnashing through his closed teeth like the hiss of an adder. "'I must do my duty. It is my place to overlook the accounts of all the clerks. You will show me your books to-morrow.'