drawing forth the secrets of another,--by open and direct means and by
circuitous and indirect. Why scruple to adopt the former mode? Why not
demand a conference, and state my doubts, and demand a solution of them,
in a manner worthy of a beneficent purpose? Why not hasten to the spot?
He may be, at this moment, mysteriously occupied under this shade. I may
note his behaviour; I may ascertain his person, if not by the features
that belong to him, yet by tracing his footsteps when he departs, and
pursuing him to his retreats.

I embraced this scheme, which was thus suggested, with eagerness. I
threw myself with headlong speed down the hill and pursued my way to the
elm. As I approached the tree, my palpitations increased, though my pace
slackened. I looked forward with an anxious glance. The trunk of the
tree was hidden in the deepest shade. I advanced close up to it. No one
was visible, but I was not discouraged. The hour of his coming was,
perhaps, not arrived. I took my station at a small distance, beside a
fence, on the right hand.

An hour elapsed before my eyes lighted on the object of which they were
in search. My previous observation had been roving from one quarter to
another. At last, it dwelt upon the tree. The person whom I before
described was seated on the ground. I had not perceived him before, and
the means by which he placed himself in this situation had escaped my
notice. He seemed like one whom an effort of will, without the exercise
of locomotion, had transported hither, or made visible. His state of
disarray, and the darkness that shrouded him, prevented me, as before,
from distinguishing any peculiarities in his figure or countenance.

I continued watchful and mute. The appearances already described took
place on this occasion, except the circumstance of digging in the earth.