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Show 198 RICJJAHD JI UHOIS. "Pardon me, my young fricnll, but arc you right in this resolution 1 Is it not your duty to go b:tck and drclare tlte cir· cumstanccs to all those wl10 nrc iutcrcstcd in the fate of your friend 1 It will be cxpectcll of you. To take any other course will seem to show a consciousness of error with which you can 110t reproach yourself. Sullpicion will become active, and your reluctance, which spri11gs from a Jl[Ltu ral dislike to give pain, will be set down to other and far less ltoiiOrablc motives. Go back, J\fr. llurdis-seck !he friends of Mr. Can·i11gton nnd your own. Though it wring your heart to tell t lw cnicl story, and rend theirs to hear it, yet withhold nothing. Take the counsel of one who has seen too much of the world uot to speak with due precaution, and avoid conce:dmeut in all matters of this sort. Suppress nothing- let nothing that is at al1 equivocal be coupled with yonr conduct where it afl'ccts the interests of others. 1 have ue\'er yet known an instance of departure from duty in which the person did not snffer from such de1wrture. And it is your duty to relate th is matter at lnrge to those who were connected with your friend." "But I will write, Colonel Grafton-! will write ull, and witbhold nothing. :My duty to the friends and relatives of \Villiam Carrington can not call for more." "Your duty to yourself docs. It requires that you should not shrink from meeting them. Your letter would tell them nothing but bald facts. They must bee you when you give your testimony. 'l'hey mu!::lt sec that you feel the pain that your duty calls upon you to inflict. \Vhen you show them that, you give them the only consolation wl1ich grief eYer dcnwnds; you give them sympathy, and their sorrows become lessened as they look on yours. To th is poor maiden, in particular, you owe it." "Ah! Colonel Grafton, you can nOt know the torture which must follow such an interview. It was I who l)ersuaded him to go on this hapless journey. She heard me plead with him to go-my arguments conviuccd h im. She will look on me as the cause of all-she will call me his murderer." ~<You must bear it all, and bear it with humility, and without reply. If she loved th is youth, what is your torture to that which y olll' words will inflict on h er 1 You have tho selfish PAUSE- BUT NOT REPOSE. 19!) strm1gth aml resources of the man to uphohl you-what has she 1 Nothing-nothing but the past. Phantoms of memory are ull that arc left to her, and these torture as often as they soothe. Do not speak, then, of your sufferings in comparison with hers. She must of necessity, he the greatest sufferer, and you must submit to see her griefs, and, it may be, to listen to her reproaches. 'J'hesc will fall lightl~ on you: cars wlHm .you can reproach yourself with nothing. If you d1d not submtt to them-if you fled from the task before you-in place of her reproacllCS you would have her suspicions, aml your own selfrebuke in all future t ime." He had put the matter before me in a new light, and, with. a sigh, I changed my purpose, resolving to start for Marengo ll1 the morning. Meanwhile, let me relate the progress of other parties to this narrative. |