ught that would be associated with such a scene. The
buzzing noise was still going on in my head, but yet I was conscious
of a vast silence all about me; and looking down upon my wife's face,
I thought:

'Death has certainly been courteous, considerate, to poor Fanny.'

MANHOOD--ENGLAND: SECOND PERIOD

I

My wife was buried in Kensal Green cemetery, a populous London city of
the dead. And that afternoon I resigned my position on the staff of
the _Advocate_.

I do not think that even at the time I had any definite reason for
this step, and I do not know of any now. I remember Arncliffe
remonstrated very kindly with me, spoke of plans he had in view for
me, about which he was unable to enter into detail just then, and
strongly urged me to reconsider the matter. I told him, without much
relevance really, that I had buried my wife that morning; and he, very
naturally, said he had not even known I was a married man.

'Look here, Freydon,' he said; 'be guided by me. Take a month's
holiday, and then come and talk to me again.'

This was no doubt both wise and kindly advice, but I merely repeated
that I must leave; and, within a week or two, I did leave, Arncliffe,
in the most friendly way, making things easy for me, and agreeing to
take a certain contribution from me once a week. This gave me three
guineas a week, and I was grateful for the arrangement.

'You must let me see something of you occasionally. I'm really sorry
to lose you. You know I've always appreciated your suggestions,' said
Arncliffe, when I looked in to bid him good-bye. He spoke with a
friendly sincerity which I valued; because it was a fact that he had,
as editor, adopted and developed a good many suggestions of mine,
without apparent acknowledgment, and after keeping them in his
pigeon-holes until, as I thought, he had forgotten their existence, and
come to think the ideas subsequently acted upon were his own.

With funds in hand amounting to something well under twenty pounds, I
took lodgings on the outskirts of Dorking--a bedroom and a sitting-room
in the rather pretty cottage of a jobbing carpenter and joiner
named Gilchrist. Mrs. Gilchrist, a wholesome, capable woman, performed
some humble duties in the church close by, in which she made use of a
very long-handled feather duster, and sundry cloths of a blue and
white checked pattern. Her husband had a small workshop in the cottage
garden, but his work more often than not took him a