the coming question," said he; "there
is a great threat of haemorrhage from the lungs--you must have rest and
quiet. Keep beyond the reach of excitement for a few weeks--don't even
read the newspapers. Go over to Spa--there you can be quite alone."

I took the advice, and without one word of adieu to any one--without
even leaving any clue to my hiding-place, I left London. Spa was as
quiet and retired as Brodie described it. A little valley shut in
among hills, that a Cockney would have called mountains; a clear little
trout-stream, and some shady alleys to stroll among, being all I wanted.
Would that I could have brought there the tranquil spirit to enjoy them!
But my mind was far from at ease. The conflict between a sense of duty
and a direct obligation, raged continually within me. What I owed to
my own conscience, and what I owed to my patron, were at variance, and
never did the sturdiest Radical detest the system of Nomination Boroughs
as I did at this moment. Each day, too, I regretted that I had not done
this or that--taken some line different from what I adopted, and at
least openly braved the criticism that I felt I had fled from.

To deny me all access to newspapers was a measure but ill calculated to
allay the fever of my mind. Expectation and imagination were at work,
speculating on every possible turn of events, and every likely and
unlikely version of my own conduct. The first two days over, all my
impatience returned, and I would have given life itself to be once again
back "in my place," to assert my opinions, and stand or fall by my own
defence of my motives.

About a week after my arrival I was sitting under the shade of some
trees, at the end of the long avenue that forms the approach to the
town, when I became suddenly aware that, at a short distance off, an
Englishman was reading aloud to his friend the report of the last debate
on the "Irish Question." My attention was fettered at once; spell bound,
I sat listening to the words of one of the speakers on the ministerial
side, using the very arguments I had myself discovered, and calling down
the cheers of the House as he proceeded. A sarcastic allusion to my own
absence, and a hackneyed quotation from Horace as to my desertion, were
interrupted by loud laughter, and the reader laying down the newspaper,
said,--

"Can this be the Duke of Wrexington's Templeton that is here alluded
to?"

"Yes. He wrote a paper on this subject in the last 'Quarte