Various conjectures instantly crossed my imagination; all of which were associated with the sudden flight from Bath, the robbery he had committed, the seeming honesty and even affection of his character previous to that event, his now being in the service of Olivia, for I understood him to be her own valet, and the story of my death. But, though my curiosity was greatly excited, the present was not the time in which these mysteries could be unravelled. We therefore took Clarke's prescription against cold; and, leaving Cranford bridge, pursued our road to Hounslow: where we arrived about eleven o'clock, and put up at an inferior inn lest any accident should bring us again in company with the aunt and the nephew. CHAPTER XII _Meditations on what had passed: The condolence of Clarke: Arrival at London: The meeting of former friends: Law arrangements_ It may be well supposed that the incidents of this night were not easily driven from my imagination. While we were walking, the care we were obliged to take, and the gloom around us, prevented any thing from escaping me sufficiently marked to attract the notice of my companion. But, when we were seated in a room with lights, and my mind was no longer diverted by other objects, the reveries into which I fell, the interjections that broke from me, the hasty and interrupted manner in which I ate and drank, the expressions of extreme joy which altered my countenance at one moment, and the solemn seriousness which it assumed the next, with my eyes fixed, while the tears rolled down my cheeks, at last so agitated poor Clarke that he exclaimed--'For God's sake, Mr. Trevor, what is the matter with you?' My silence, for I was unable to speak, did but increase his alarm--'Are you taken ill? What has befallen you? Won't you open your mind to me? If I could do you any good, I hope you don't think I should be backward? Are you unhappy?' 'No, no.' 'I am very glad of that. But something uncommon I am sure has happened to you: though it may not be fit perhaps that I should hear what. And I don't want to be a busy body; though I must say I should be more at ease, if I was quite sure that all was right. That's all. I have no other curiosity.' 'All is not right: but yet I hope it will be. I know not by what means. It seems indeed impossible! And perhaps it is; and yet I hope! I hope! I hope!' 'Well, well: I am glad of that. We should all hope. We are bid to hope. God help us if we did not. Perhaps I can't give you any help? I suppose that is beyond me. I am sorry for it. But what can a poor carpenter do, in the way of befriending a gentleman?' 'A poor carpenter can have a kind heart; and I do not know whether that is not the most blessed thing on earth! Did you ever hear me repeat the name of Olivia?'