“By no means,” replied Ratcliffe.  “That the imagination of this gentleman is disordered, I will not pretend to dispute; I have already told you that it has sometimes broken out into paroxysms approaching to real mental alienation.  But it is of his common state of mind that I speak; it is irregular, but not deranged; the shades are as gradual as those that divide the light of noonday from midnight.  The courtier who ruins his fortune for the attainment of a title which can do him no good, or power of which he can make no suitable or creditable use, the miser who hoards his useless wealth, and the prodigal who squanders it, are all marked with a certain shade of insanity.  To criminals who are guilty of enormities, when the temptation, to a sober mind, bears no proportion to the horror of the act, or the probability of detection and punishment, the same observation applies; and every violent passion, as well as anger, may be termed a short madness.”

“This may be all good philosophy, Mr. Ratcliffe,” answered Miss Vere; “but, excuse me, it by no means emboldens me to visit, at this late hour, a person whose extravagance of imagination you yourself can only palliate.”

“Rather, then,” said Ratcliffe, “receive my solemn assurances, that you do not incur the slightest danger.  But what I have been hitherto afraid to mention for fear of alarming you is, that now when we are within sight of his retreat, for I can discover it through the twilight, I must go no farther with you; you must proceed alone.”

“Alone?—­I dare not.”

“You must,” continued Ratcliffe; “I will remain here and wait for you.”

“You will not, then, stir from this place,” said Miss Vere “yet the distance is so great, you could not hear me were I to cry for assistance.”

“Fear nothing,” said her guide; “or observe, at least, the utmost caution in stifling every expression of timidity.  Remember that his predominant and most harassing apprehension arises from a consciousness of the hideousness of his appearance.  Your path lies straight beside yon half-fallen willow; keep the left side of it; the marsh lies on the right.  Farewell for a time.  Remember the evil you are threatened with, and let it overcome at once your fears and scruples.”

“Mr. Ratcliffe,” said Isabella, “farewell; if you have deceived one so unfortunate as myself, you have for ever forfeited the fair character for probity and honour to which I have trusted.”

“On my life—­on my soul,” continued Ratcliffe, raising his voice as the distance between them increased, “you are safe—­perfectly safe.”

CHAPTER XVI.

     —­’Twas time and griefs
     That framed him thus:  Time, with his fairer hand,
     Offering the fortunes of his former days,
     The former man may make him.—­Bring us to him,
     And chance it as it may.—­Old play.