of the stranger; yet the fact, coupled with _the voice_, staggered and
confounded me. I said nothing, but determined, as soon as we reached the
public streets, to call to my aid the light--feeble as it was--of the
dimly-burning lamps, which, at the time I speak of, were placed at a
considerable distance from each other along the principal streets of
London, scattering no light, and looking like oil lamps in the last
stage of a lingering consumption. These afforded me little help. The
weakest effort of illumination imaginable strayed across the coach
window as we passed a burner, about as serviceable as the long interval
of darkness that ensued, and far more tantalizing. We were driving
through the city. I was still brooding over the singular occurrence,
when the coach stopped. The stranger alighted. I endeavoured to obtain
sight of him, but he was so wrapped and clothed that I did not succeed.
The coach was on its way again, and I had just opportunity enough to
discover that we had halted at the corner of the street in which Mr
Clayton resided. I had been so intent upon scanning the figure of the
traveller, that the fact had escaped me. Had I been aware of it, I would
certainly have followed the man, and seen him at all events safely
beyond the door of the minister. Now it was too late.

I could not repress the desire which I felt to visit Mr Clayton on the
following morning. I went to him at an early hour. If he and the
stranger were one and the same person, I should be made aware of it at a
glance. The cause that had affected him so deeply in the stage-coach
existed still, and his manner must betray him. My suspicions were, thank
Heaven, instantly removed. I found my friend tranquil as ever, busy at
his old occupation, and welcoming me with his usual smile of
benevolence. He was paler than usual, I thought; but this impression
only convinced me how difficult it is to be charitable and just, when
bias and prejudice once take possession of us. My friend was, if any