My little actress informed me that the company would set out in two days for the neighbourhood of Portsmouth; and, as I found that they would be more than a fortnight in travelling, I determined to accept the invitation, and quit her for the present.  I had been more than a week in her society.  At parting, I professed my admiration and love.  Silence and a starting tear were her only acknowledgment.  I saw that she was not displeased; and I left her with joyful anticipations.

But what did I anticipate, as I rolled heedlessly along in the chaise to ——­ Hall?  Sensual gratification at the expense of a poor defenceless orphan, whose future life would be clouded with misery.  I could see my wickedness, and moralise upon it; but the devil was triumphant within me, and I consoled myself with the vulgar adage, “Needs must when the devil drives.”  With this, I dismissed the subject to think of Emily, whose residence was now in sight.

I arrived at ——­ Hall, was kindly received and welcomed by both father and daughter; but on this visit, I must not dwell.  When I reflect on it, I hate myself and human nature!  Could I be trusted? yet I inspired unbounded confidence.  Was I not as vicious as one of my age could be?  Yet I made them believe I was almost perfection.  Did I deserve to be happy?  Yet I was so, and more so than I had ever been before or ever have been since.  I was like the serpent in Eden, though without his vile intentions.  Beauty and virtue united to keep my passions in subjection.  When they had nothing to feed on, they concealed themselves in the inmost recesses of my bosom.

Had I remained always with Emily, I should have been reclaimed; but when I quitted her, I lost all my good feelings and good resolutions; not, however, before the bright image of virtue had lighted up in my bosom a holy flame which has never been entirely extinguished.  Occasionally dimmed, it has afterwards burnt up with renewed brightness; and, as a beacon-light, has often guided me through perils that might have overwhelmed me.

Compelled at last to quit this earthly paradise, I told her, at parting, that I loved her, adored her; and to prove that I was in earnest, and that she believed me, I obtained a lock of her hair.  When I left ——­ Hall, it was my intention to have joined my ship, as I had agreed with my father; but the temptation to follow up my success with the fair and unfortunate Eugenia was too strong to be resisted; at least I thought so, and therefore hardly made an effort to conquer it.  True I did, pro forma, make my appearance on board the guard-ship, had my name entered on the books, that I might not lose my time of servitude, and that I might also deceive my father.  All this being duly accomplished, I obtained leave of absence from my first lieutenant, an old acquaintance, who, in a ship crowded with supernumerary midshipmen, was but too happy in getting rid of me and my chest.

I hastened to the rendezvous, and found the company in full activity.  Eugenia, when we parted, expressed a wish that our acquaintance might not be renewed.  She feared for her own character as well as mine, and very sensibly and feelingly observed that my professional prospects might be blasted; but, having made up my mind, I had an answer for all her objections.  I presented myself to the manager, and requested to be admitted into the company.