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“I am convinced,” said my friend a few days afterwards when I took leave of him, “that these execrations and the prophesies of the old fury will visit me. My life will be consumed in illness, misery, delirium, and poverty. The spirit of the departed will tread in my footsteps and sow poison, where, perhaps, some joy might otherwise have sprung.”

I began to comfort him, calling to my aid, hope and consolation from every source, because such apprehensions are generally imaginary, and may be combated. Hope is at least more infinite than the all-engrossing sensation of such visionary fear. We separated, and for a long time I heard nothing of my friend Francis. I lived in foreign countries and returned some years after the period in question.

We had not kept up any correspondence. I was therefore surprised and delighted by his first letter which I received in my own comfortable home. There was no allusion to his former sufferings; all was forgotten. Time and fortune had transformed my friend into a truly new being. He wrote to me of his approaching marriage. The most beautiful girl of the country, young, cheerful, and innocent, had bestowed her affections upon him; and on the very day on which their vows were exchanged, he had, after years of fruitless search, discovered the important document which would complete their nuptial happiness. The melancholy time, he informed me, had vanished from his mind, his youth seemed renewed, and now only he began to live. In a week his marriage was to be celebrated, and he urged me to come and be a witness of his happiness.

It would have delighted me to have complied with his invitation, had not my uncle, who lived forty miles distant, and was then lying on his death-bed, called me from home. The prince, who bitterly hated and persecuted my friend, had died in the meanwhile, so that, in all human probability, there was the prospect that every thing ominous, menacing, and fatal, would fade away and be forgotten, and that spirits of fortune and delight would henceforth draw my friend’s car of life.

My stay with my uncle, who was dying, was protracted. His sufferings lasted longer than his physicians had expected, and I was glad that my presence was so consoling and beneficial to him. After his death, I had various business to transact, to execute his will, to make arrangements with the remaining relatives, part of his fortune being left to me, and to settle all to our mutual satisfaction. As journeys were required for these matters, nearly eighteen months elapsed before they were completed. The journeys had carried me far from our neighbourhood, and I must confess that these circumstances, and the pressure of business, had almost caused me to forget my friend Francis. He had not written to me, nor had I heard any thing of him, and I was, therefore, convinced that it was well with him; that he was married and happy in his new condition. Being soon after near Switzerland, I made a tour to that country, and then visited a watering place on the Rhine, to which my medical adviser had long before recommended inc.

Here I abandoned myself to amusements, enjoyed the beauties of nature during my rambles, and felt happier than I had been for some time. Being one day at the table d’hote, I accidentally looked over the list of visiters, and found that my friend Francis, with his wife, had been a week in the town. I wondered he had not found me out, as my name must have struck him in the list. However, I accounted for his not doing so, by saying to myself that he had not looked over the leaves attentively, that he had not heard my name mentioned, or that possibly he might be seriously ill and would see no company. Satisfied so far, I called upon him, and was told he was not at home. I hoped to meet him in my walks, but perceived him nowhere. Calling the following day, I received the same answer, that he had gone out. I left my card, requesting he would pay me a visit or tell me when he would receive me. I heard nothing from him. The next morning early, I called again, and the servant again replied, with a troubled countenance, that his master was already from home.