upying
me.

"_You_ have the _entree_ of the dear earth," I said sadly. "They do
not treat you in the--in the very singular manner with which I am
treated. It is important beyond explanation that I get a message to my
wife. A beggar in the street may be admitted to her charity,--I saw
one at the door the night I stood there. I, only I, am forbidden to
enter. Whatever may be the natural laws which are sot in opposition to
me, they have extraordinary force; I can do nothing against them. I
suppose I do not understand them. If I had an opportunity to study
them--but I have no opportunities at anything. It is a new experience
to me to be so--so disregarded by the general scheme of things. I seem
to be of no more consequence in this place than a bootblack was in the
world, or a paralytic person. It seems useless for me to fly in the
face of fate, since this is fate. I have no hope of being able to
reach my wife. You have privileges in this condition which are
evidently far superior to mine. I have been thinking that possibly you
may be able--and willing--to approach her for me?"

"I don't think it would succeed, Doctor," replied my old patient
quickly. "I'd _do_ it! You know I would! But if I were Helen--She is
a very reserved person; she never talks about her husband, as different
women do; her feeling is of such a sort; I do not think she would
_understand_, if another woman were to speak from you to her."

"Perhaps not," I sighed.

"I am afraid it would be the most hopeless experiment you could make,"
said Mrs. Faith. "She loves you too much for it," she added, with the
divination of her sex. Comforted a little by Mrs. Faith, I quickly
abandoned this project; indeed, I soon abandoned every other which
concerned itself with Helen, and yielded myself with a kind of
desperate lethargy, if I may be allowed the expression, to the fate
which separated me from her. Of resignation I knew nothing. Peace was
the coldest stranger in that strange land to me. I yielded because I
could not help it, not because I would have willed it; and with that
dull strength which grows into the sinews of the soul from necessity,
sought to adjust myself in such fashion as I might to my new
conditions. It occurred to me from time to time that it would have
been an advantage if I had felt more interest in the conditions
themselves; that it would even have spared me something if I had ever
cultivated any familiarity with the p