exclude from his mind ideas which yet could, with no propriety, at least
at present, be made the theme of conversation.

These words were accompanied with simplicity and pathos, and with tokens
of unaffected distress.

"Arthur," said I, "you are master of your actions and time in this
house. Retire when you please; but you will naturally suppose us anxious
to dispel this mystery. Whatever shall tend to obscure or malign your
character will of course excite our solicitude. Wortley is not
short-sighted or hasty to condemn. So great is my confidence in his
integrity that I will not promise my esteem to one who has irrecoverably
lost that of Wortley. I am not acquainted with your motives to
concealment, or what it is you conceal; but take the word of one who
possesses that experience which you complain of wanting, that sincerity
is always safest."

As soon as he had retired, my curiosity prompted me to pay an immediate
visit to Wortley. I found him at home. He was no less desirous of an
interview, and answered my inquiries with as much eagerness as they were
made.

"You know," said he, "my disastrous connection with Thomas Welbeck. You
recollect his sudden disappearance last July, by which I was reduced to
the brink of ruin. Nay, I am, even now, far from certain that I shall
survive that event. I spoke to you about the youth who lived with him,
and by what means that youth was discovered to have crossed the river in
his company on the night of his departure. This is that very youth.

"This will account for my emotion at meeting him at your house; I