esired. He did not expect
to be absent more than two or three days; but earnestly charged me to
write to him, if I had any news from the hospital while he was away.

During the week, Clara came twice to see me--escaping from home by
stealth, as before. On each occasion, she showed the same affectionate
anxiety to set me an example of cheerfulness, and to sustain me in
hope. I saw, with a sorrow and apprehension which I could not altogether
conceal from her, that the weary look in her face had never changed,
never diminished since I had first observed it. Ralph had, from motives
of delicacy, avoided increasing the hidden anxieties which were but too
evidently preying upon her health, by keeping her in perfect ignorance
of our visit to the hospital, and, indeed, of the particulars of all our
proceedings since his return. I took care to preserve the same secrecy,
during her short interviews with me. She bade me farewell after her
third visit, with a sadness which she vainly endeavoured to hide. I
little thought, then, that the tones of her sweet, clear voice had
fallen on my ear for the last time, before I wandered to the far West of
England where I now write.

At the end of the week--it was on a Saturday, I remember--I left my
lodgings early in the morning, to go into the country; with no intention
of returning before evening. I had felt a sense of oppression, on
rising, which was almost unendurable. The perspiration stood thick on my
forehead, though the day was not unusually hot; the air of London grew
harder and harder to breathe, with every minute; my heart felt tightened
to bursting; my temples throbbed with fever-fury; my very life seemed to
depend on escaping into pure air, into some place where there was shade
from trees, and water that ran cool and refreshing to look on. So I set
forth, careless in what direction I went; and remained in the country
all day. Evening was changing into night as I got back to London.

I inquired of the servant at my lodging, when she let me in, whether any
letter had arrived for me. She answered, that one had come just after I
had gone out in the morning, and that it was lying on my table. My first
glance at it, showed me Mr. Bernard's name written in the corner of the
envelope. I eagerly opened the letter, and read these words:

"Private.

"Friday.

"My DEAR SIR,

"On the enclosed slip of paper you will find the address of the young
woman, of whom your brother spoke to m