of common-sense left in you, you will accompany me to England. This
Mejnour is an impostor more dangerous--because more in earnest--than
Zicci. After all, what do his promises amount to? You allow that
nothing can be more equivocal. You say that he has left Naples, that he
has selected a retreat more genial than the crowded thoroughfares of men
to the studies in which he is to initiate you; and this retreat is among
the haunts of the fiercest bandits of Italy,--haunts which Justice
itself dare not penetrate; fitting hermitage for a sage! I tremble for
you. What if this stranger, of whom nothing is known, be leagued with
the robbers; and these lures for your credulity bait but the traps for
your property,--perhaps your life? You might come off cheaply by a
ransom of half your fortune; you smile indignantly well! put common-
sense out of the question; take your own view of the matter. You are to
undergo an ordeal which Mejnour himself does not profess to describe as
a very tempting one. It may, or it may not, succeed; if it does not,
you are menaced with the darkest evils; and if it does, you cannot be
better off than the dull and joyless mystic whom you have taken for a
master. Away with this folly! Enjoy youth while it is left to you.
Return with me to England; forget these dreams. Enter your proper
career; form affections more respectable than those which lured you a
while to an Italian adventuress, and become a happy and distinguished
man. This is the advice of sober friendship; yet the promises I hold
out to you are fairer than those of Mejnour."

"Merton," said Glyndon, doggedly, "I cannot, if I would, yield to your
wishes. A power that is above me urges me on; I cannot resist its
fascination. I will proceed to the last in the strange career I have
commenced. Think of me no more. Follow yourself the advice you give to
me, and be happy."