what was going on between Mary and me; and was, at first,
naturally enough, inclined to laugh at us. Closer investigation
altered his way of thinking. He became convinced that my mother
was acting like a fool; that the bailiff (a faithful servant, if
ever there was one yet) was cunningly advancing his own interests
by means of his daughter; and that I was a young idiot, who had
developed his native reserves of imbecility at an unusually early
period of life. Speaking to my mother under the influence of
these strong impressions, my uncle offered to take me back with
him to London, and keep me there until I had been brought to my
senses by association with his own children, and by careful
superintendence under his own roof.

My mother hesitated about accepting this proposal; she had the
advantage over my uncle of understanding my disposition. While
she was still doubting, while my uncle was still impatiently
waiting for her decision, I settled the question for my elders by
running away.

I left a letter to represent me in my absence; declaring that no
mortal power should part me from Mary, and promising to return
and ask my mother's pardon as soon as my uncle had left the
house. The strictest search was made for me without discovering a
trace of my place of refuge. My uncle departed for London,
predicting that I should live to be a disgrace to the family, and
announcing that he should transmit his opinion of me to my father
in America by the next mail.

The secret of the hiding-place in which I contrived to defy
discovery is soon told. I was hidden (without the bailiff's