sense of duty discharged."

"I spurn at the slavish and bestial doctrine," said the Dwarf,
his eyes kindling with insane fury,--"I spurn at it, as worthy

only of the beasts that perish; but I will waste no more words
with you."

He rose hastily; but, ere he withdrew into the hut, he added,
with great vehemence, "Yet, lest you still think my apparent

benefits to mankind flow from the stupid and servile source,
called love of our fellow-creatures, know, that were there a man

who had annihilated my soul's dearest hope--who had torn my heart
to mammocks, and seared mp brain till it glowed like a volcano,

and were that man's fortune and life in my power as completely as
this frail potsherd" (he snatched up an earthen cup which stood

beside him), "I would not dash him into atoms thus"--(he flung
the vessel with fury against the wall),--"No!" (he spoke more

composedly, but with the utmost bitterness), "I would pamper him
with wealth and power to inflame his evil passions, and to fulfil

his evil designs; he should lack no means of vice and villainy;
he should be the centre of a whirlpool that itself should know

neither rest nor peace, but boil with unceasing fury, while it
wrecked every goodly ship that approached its limits! he should

be an earthquakecapable of shaking the very land in which he
dwelt, and rendering all its inhabitants friendless, outcast, and

miserable--as I am!"
The wretched being rushed into his hut as he uttered these last

words, shutting the door with furiousviolence, and rapidly
drawing two bolts, one after another, as if to exclude the

intrusion of any one of that hated race, who had thus lashed his
soul to frenzy. Earnscliff left the moor with mingled sensations

of pity and horror, pondering what strange and melancholy cause
could have reduced to so miserable a state of mind, a man whose

language argued him to be of rank and education much superior to
the vulgar. He was also surprised to see how much particular

information a person who had lived in that country so short a
time, and in so recluse a manner, had been able to collect

respecting the dispositions and private affairs of the
inhabitants.

"It is no wonder," he said to himself, "that with such extent of
information, such a mode of life, so uncouth a figure, and

sentiments so virulently misanthropic, this unfortunate should be
regarded by the vulgar as in league with the Enemy of Mankind."

CHAPTER V.
The bleakest rock upon the loneliest heath

Feels, in its barrenness, some touch of spring;
And, in the April dew, or beam of May,

Its moss and lichen freshen and revive;
And thus the heart, most sear'd to human pleasure,

Melts at the tear, joys in the smile, of woman. BEAUMONT
As the season advanced, the weather became more genial, and the

Recluse was more frequently found occupying the broad flat stone
in the front of his mansion. As he sate there one day, about the

hour of noon, a party of gentlemen and ladies, well mounted, and
numerously attended, swept across the heath at some distance from

his dwelling. Dogs, hawks, and led-horses swelled the retinue,
and the air resounded at intervals with the cheer of the hunters,

and the sound of horns blown by the attendants. The Recluse was
about to retire into his mansion at the sight of a train so

joyous, when three young ladies, with their attendants, who had
made a circuit, and detached themselves from their party, in

order to gratify their curiosity by a sight of the Wise Wight of
Mucklestane-Moor, came suddenly up, ere he could effect his

purpose. The first shrieked, and put her hands before her eyes,
at sight of an object so unusually deformed. The second, with a

hysterical giggle, which she intended should disguise her
terrors, asked the Recluse, whether he could tell their fortune.

The third, who was best mounted, best dressed, and incomparably
the best-looking of the three, advanced, as if to cover the

incivility of her companions.
"We have lost the right path that leads through these morasses,

and our party have gone forward without us," said the young lady.
"Seeing you, father, at the door of your house, we have turned

this way to--"
"Hush!" interrupted the Dwarf; "so young, and already so artful?

You came--you know you came, to exult in the consciousness of
your own youth, wealth, and beauty, by contrasting them with age,

poverty, and deformity. It is a fit employment for the daughter
of your father; but O how unlike the child of your mother!"

"Did you, then, know my parents, and do you know me?"
"Yes; this is the first time you have crossed my waking eyes, but

I have seen you in my dreams."
"Your dreams?"

"Ay, Isabel Vere. What hast thou, or thine, to do with my waking
thoughts?"

"Your waking thoughts, sir," said the second of Miss Vere's
companions, with a sort of mock gravity, "are fixed, doubtless,

upon wisdom; folly can only intrude on your sleeping moments."
"Over thine," retorted the Dwarf, more splenetically than became

a philosopher or hermit, "folly exercises an unlimited empire,
asleep or awake."

"Lord bless us!" said the lady, "he's a prophet, sure enough."
"As surely," continued the Recluse," as thou art a woman.--A

woman!--I should have said a lady--a fine lady. You asked me to
tell your fortune--it is a simple one; an endless chase through

life after follies not worth catching, and, when caught,
successively thrown away--a chase, pursued from the days of

tottering infancy to those of old age upon his crutches. Toys
and merry-makings in childhood--love and its absurdities in

youth--spadille and basto in age, shall succeed each other as
objects of pursuit--flowers and butterflies in spring--

butterflies and thistle-down in summer--withered leaves in autumn
and winter--all pursued, all caught, all flung aside.

--Stand apart; your fortune is said."
"All CAUGHT, however," retorted the laughing fair one, who was a

cousin of Miss Vere's; "that's something, Nancy," she continued,
turning to the timid damsel who had first approached the Dwarf;

"will you ask your fortune?"
"Not for worlds," said she, drawing back; "I have heard enough of

yours."
"Well, then," said Miss Ilderton, offering money to the Dwarf,

"I'll pay for mine, as if it were spoken by an oracle to a
princess."

"Truth," said the Soothsayer, "can neither be bought nor sold;"
and he pushed back her proffered offering with morose disdain.

"Well, then," said the lady, "I'll keep my money, Mr. Elshender,
to assist me in the chase I am to pursue."

"You will need it," replied the cynic; "without it, few pursue
successfully, and fewer are themselves pursued.--Stop!" he said

to Miss Vere, as her companions moved off, "With you I have more
to say. You have what your companions would wish to have, or be

thought to have,--beauty, wealth, station, accomplishments."
"Forgive my following my companions, father; I am proof both to

flattery and fortune-telling."
"Stay," continued the Dwarf, with his hand on her horse's rein,

"I am no common soothsayer, and I am no flatterer. All the
advantages I have detailed, all and each of them have their

corresponding evils--unsuccessful love, crossed affections, the
gloom of a convent, or an odiousalliance. I, who wish ill to

all mankind, cannot wish more evil to you, so much is your course
of life crossed by it."

"And if it be, father, let me enjoy the readiest solace of
adversity while prosperity is in my power. You are old; you are