conspiracy of the millenarians in the army struck him with the greatest apprehension, and he lived in the continual dread of assassination. The historians said that the death of his favourite daughter, Mrs. Claypole, a lady endued with many humane virtues and amiable accomplishments, depressed his anxious mind. He never moved a step without strong guards attending him; he wore armour under his clothes, and further secured himself by offensive weapons—a sword, falchion, and pistols—which he carried wherever he went. He returned from no place by the direct road, or by the way he went. Every journey he performed with precipitation. Seldom did he sleep more than three nights together in the same chamber, and he never let it be known beforehand what chamber he intended to occupy.
'The name of the designing villain who assumed the odious functions of informer and perjurer was not allowed to transpire, but I believed in my heart that Reginald was that man. I could not prove it, however; and this event, sad and solemn as it was, was soon superseded by others of greater domestic importance. My father still lived, but he was a helpless invalid. Helen and Agnes nursed him tenderly. My mother's health was also in a very precarious state. For both their sakes I dared not provoke an open quarrel with Reginald; and he never seemed to dream of going away and leaving me master of the situation, which he might have done to his much greater pecuniary advantage. Helen and I, although we appeared to be full of confidence in each other, were, I grieve to say, mutual objects of frequent, though distant, doubts and suspicions. If she suspected the sincerity of my reformation, I was wicked enough to, on more than one occasion, admit doubts of her fidelity. She was so very beautiful; and beautiful women, I reflected, had often inconstant hearts,
