He felt himself a criminal,
marked by the whispers of society; he might not hear the charges
against him, nor be within the sound of scandal's tongue, but he
would see it outlined in faces that once smiled at his seeming
prosperity. He would feel it in the cold hand that had welcomed
him,--that had warmly embraced him; his name would no longer be
respected. The circle of refined society that had kindly received
him, had made him one of its attractions, would now shun him as if
he were contagion. Beyond this he saw the fate that hovered over his
father's and his uncle's estates;-all the filial affection they had
bestowed upon him, blasted; the caresses of his beloved and
beautiful sister; the shame the exposure would bring upon her; the
knave who held him in his grasp, while dragging the last remnants of
their property away to appease dishonest demands, haunted him to
despair. And, yet, to sink under them-to leave all behind him and be
an outcast, homeless and friendless upon the world, where he could
only look back upon the familiar scenes of his boyhood with regret,
would be to carry a greater amount of anguish to his destiny. The
destroyer was upon him; his grasp was firm and painful. He might
live a life of rectitude; but his principles and affections would be
unfixed. It would be like an infectious robe encircling him,--a
disease which he never could eradicate, so that he might feel he was
not an empty vessel among honourable men. When men depicted their
villains, moving in the grateful spheres of life, he would be one of
their models; and though the thoughtlessness of youth had made him
the type haunting himself by day and night, the world never made a
distinction.
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