'To be sure there is one thing in their favour. Nobody has, it is plain, received any letters from

you.'
'But good God,' said Charles, 'is it not very plain to be seen how all this has come about? Has not the very rascal prevented it who has gone over to bear false witness against me?'

'True,' cried Figgins, 'and then which way shall we reconcile to the wisdom of Mr. Standfast, or the goodness of Sir Sidney, so hasty a belief of such slander against one, of whom it has been their pride to have had such a good opinion.'

'If their conduct be goodness and wisdom,' said Charles, it is both superficial and supererogate. There is not common sense in it, and I am sure there is not common good manners: for what virtue is that which condemns unheard?—and what modesty that has the presumption to punish without the right? What are my actions, after all, to these people? Am I dependant on them? No, I thank God, I am not; nor will I ever call one of them my friend: nay nor any man upon earth who shall be bold enough to scrutinize my intentions. No, my will, my desires, my conduct, shall be my own; and if I cannot make friendship upon any other terms, I would rather be alone in the world with integrity of heart, than give colour, by my intimacy, to their suspicions who have dared to think me a villain.'


'Admirably reasoned, my friend,' said Figgins, 'and I am sorry for their sakes to say too justly.—But let us see this other letter, which bears the same date with the rest.'

I know not, in this hurry of my spirits, if there be any precedents in books of a woman's writing to a man out of mere friendship; at least of sufficient authenticity to warrant my disregarding decorum in this manner. If there are not, it is a new incident, and I must rely on the purity of my intentions to excuse it.
So extremely like a fairy tale, where the hero's bad genius only makes its appearance, is all that has happened in this family relative to you, that if I did not fancy I had myself sagacity enough to account for the influence of the foul fiend, and whence it originates, I should think it very hard indeed that people could not be contented with losing their own senses, but they must insist that others lay aside