It would be endless to enumerate all the little incidents that occurred; which, however trifling they might appear in the recital, continued to operate in one direction. Many letters passed to the same purport. My curiosity was a consuming passion; but this inflexible, impenetrable, man, was still silent, or alternately evaded, and resented, my enquiries. We continued, occasionally, to meet, but generally in company. CHAPTER IV During the ensuing summer, Mr Harley proposed making a visit to his mother, and, calling to take his leave of me, on the evening preceding his journey, accidentally found me alone.--We entered into conversation on various subjects: twilight stole upon us unperceived. The obscure light inspired me with courage: I ventured to resume a subject, so often discussed; I complained, gently, of his reserve. 'Could I suppose,' he asked, 'that he had been without _his share_ of suffering?' I replied something, I scarce know what, adverting to his stronger mind. 'Strength!' said he, turning from me with emotion, 'rather say, weakness!' I reiterated the important, the so often proposed, enquiry--'Had he, or had he not, a _present, existing, engagement_?' He endeavoured to evade my question--I repeated it--He answered, with a degree of impatience, '_I cannot tell you_; if I could, do you think I would have been silent so long?'--as once, before, he spoke of the circumstances of his past life, as being of '_a singular, a peculiar, nature_.' At our separation, I asked, if he would write to me during his absence. 'Certainly, he would.' The next morning, having some little commissions to execute for Mrs Harley, I sent them, accompanied by a few lines, to her son. 'Why is it,' said I, 'that our sagacity, and penetration, frequently desert us on the most interesting occasions? I can read any mind with greater facility than I can read your's; and, yet, what other have I so attentively studied? This is a problem I know not how to solve. One conclusion will force itself upon me--if a mistaken one, whom have you to blame?--That an _honourable_, suitable, engagement, could have given no occasion for mystery.' I added, 'I should depend on hearing from him, according to his promise.' Week after week, month after month, wore away, and no letter arrived. Perturbation was succeeded by anxiety and apprehension; but hearing, through my maternal friend, Mrs Harley, of the welfare of this object of our too tender cares, my solicitude subsided into despondency. The pressure of one corroding train of ideas preyed, like a canker-worm, upon my heart, and destroyed all its tranquillity. In the beginning of the winter, this mysterious, inexplicable, being, again returned to town. I had undertaken a little business, to serve him, during his absence--I transmitted to him an account of my proceedings; subjoining a gentle reproach for his unkind silence.