My determination to confer with him in private acquired new force from
these reflections. Inglefield assented to my proposal. His own affairs
would permit the absence of his servant for one day. I saw no necessity
for delay, and immediately made my request to Clithero. I was fashioning
an implement, I told him, with respect to which I could not wholly
depend upon my own skill. I was acquainted with the dexterity of his
contrivances, and the neatness of his workmanship. He readily consented
to assist me on this occasion. Next day he came. Contrary to my
expectation, he prepared to return home in the evening. I urged him to
spend the night with us: but no; it was equally convenient, and more
agreeable to him, to return.

I was not aware of this resolution. I might, indeed, have foreseen that,
being conscious of his infirmity, he would desire to avoid the scrutiny
of strangers. I was painfully disconcerted; but it occurred to me, that
the best that could be done was to bear him company, and seize some
opportunity, during this interval, of effecting my purpose. I told him,
that, since he would not remain, I cared not if, for the sake of
recreation, and of a much more momentous purpose, I went along with him.
He tacitly, and without apparent reluctance, consented to my scheme,
and, accordingly, we set off together. This was an awful crisis. The
time had now come that was to dissipate my uncertainty. By what means
should I introduce a topic so momentous and singular? I had been
qualified by no experience for rightly conducting myself on so critical
an emergency. My companion preserved a mournful and inviolable silence.
He afforded me no opening by which I might reach the point in view. His
demeanour was sedate, while I was almost disabled, by the confusion of
my thoughts, to utter a word.