out, and confess the whole truth: they had lived in the same house a great while and John knew him to be so mild and gentle that he flattered himself he might possibly obtain his forgiveness; but then the fear of shame worked so violently, that he despaired of mustering sufficient spirits to go through the story. The struggle in his mind was so great, he could not fix on what to determine; but the same person who had drawn him into this piece of villainy occasioned at last the discovery; for his wife intreated him with all the arguments she could think of not to be hanged voluntarily, when there was no necessity for it, for although the action they had done was not right, yet, thank God, they had not been guilty of murder. Indeed, if that had been the case there would have been a reason for confessing it, because it could not have been concealed, for murder will out; the very birds of the air will tell of that: but as they were in no danger of being found out it would be madness to run their necks into a halter.
John, who was ruined by his compliance with this woman while he liked her, since he was weary of and hated her, took hold of every opportunity to contradict her. Therefore, her eagerness to keep their crime a secret, joined to his own remorse, determined him to let Mr. David know it. However, he dissembled with her for the present lest she should take any steps to obstruct his designs.
He immediately began to inquire where Mr. David was gone, and when he was informed he was at his uncle's he went thither and asked for him; but a servant told him Mr. David was indeed there but so ill he could not be spoke with. However, if the business was of great consequence, he would call his master, but disclosing it to himself would do as well. John answered what he had to say could be communicated to nobody but to
