I got the place. It promised me peace; it promised me
obscurity, as I thought. I was wrong. Evil report, with time and chance
to help it, travels patiently, and travels far. The accusation from
which I had fled followed me. I got warning of its approach. I was able
to leave my situation voluntarily, with the testimonials that I had
earned. They got me another situation in another remote district. Time
passed again; and again the slander that was death to my character
found me out. On this occasion I had no warning. My employer said, 'Mr.
Jennings, I have no complaint to make against you; but you must set
yourself right, or leave me.' I had but one choice--I left him. It's
useless to dwell on what I suffered after that. I am only forty years
old now. Look at my face, and let it tell for me the story of some
miserable years. It ended in my drifting to this place, and meeting with
Mr. Candy. He wanted an assistant. I referred him, on the question of
capacity, to my last employer. The question of character remained. I
told him what I have told you--and more. I warned him that there were
difficulties in the way, even if he believed me. 'Here, as elsewhere,'
I said 'I scorn the guilty evasion of living under an assumed name: I am
no safer at Frizinghall than at other places from the cloud that follows
me, go where I may.
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