The poor doctor, however, needed not to be upbraided; for the reproaches of his own conscience were more bitter than any Edric could have lavished on him. "I am lost!" cried he; "ruined, and utterly undone! Not only my body will perish miserably, but my fame, my immortal fame is destroyed—oh! I shall go distracted!"
In this manner he lamented; wringing his hands and tearing his hair, whilst Edric felt too angry to attempt to console him.
"Speak to me, Edric, dear," cried the poor doctor at last, quite in despair at his silence; "for Heaven's sake, speak to me! Do let me hear the sound of some voice, besides my own and that of those cursed Spaniards. Oh, Edric! Edric! solitary confinement is quite enough to drive a man distracted; but to have a companion in such a place as this, and he to refuse to speak—Oh, Edric! Edric! your heart must be turned to stone, if you can resolve to use me so cruelly."
Edric was moved by the doctor's sorrow.
"What do you wish me to say?" asked he, smiling.
"Oh, now that's like yourself," cried the poor
