of his motives for coming to America. These expedients, however profound
and addressful, had failed. He took no pains to elude them. He contented
himself with turning a deaf ear to all indirect allusions and hints,
and, when more explicitly questioned, with simply declaring that he had
nothing to communicate worthy of her notice.

During the day he was a sober and diligent workman. His evenings he
spent in incommunicative silence. On Sundays, he always rambled away, no
one knew whither, and without a companion. I have already observed that
he and his fellow-servant occupied the same apartment in the barn. This
circumstance was not unattended to by Miss Inglefield. The name of
Clithero's companion was Ambrose. This man was copiously interrogated by
his mistress, and she found him by no means so refractory as the other.

Ambrose, in his tedious and confused way, related that, soon after
Clithero and he had become bedfellows, the former was considerably
disturbed by restlessness and talking in his sleep. His discourse was
incoherent. It was generally in the tone of expostulation, and appeared
to be entreating to be saved from some great injury. Such phrases as
these,--"have pity;" "have mercy," were frequently intermingled with
groans, and accompanied with weeping. Sometimes he seemed to be holding
conferences with some one who was making him considerable offers on
condition of his performing some dangerous service. What he said in his
own person, and in answer to his imaginary tempter, testified the utmost
reluctance.

Ambrose had no curiosity on the subject. As this interruption prevented
him at first from sleeping, it was his custom to put an end to the
dialogue, by awakening his companion, who betrayed tokens of great alarm
and dejection on discovering how he had been employed. He would