from a scene so
painful, when the physician laid his hand on my sleeve. "Stop," he said,
"there is a change."

There was, indeed, and a marked one. A faint glow spread over his pallid
features--they seemed to gain the look of intelligence which belongs
to vitality--his eye once more kindled--his lip coloured--and drawing
himself up out of the listless posture he had hitherto maintained, he
rose without assistance. The doctor and the servant ran to give him
their support. He waved them aside, and they were contented to place
themselves in such a position behind as might ensure against accident,
should his newly-acquired strength decay as suddenly as it had revived.

"My dear Croftangry," he said, in the tone of kindness of other days, "I
am glad to see you returned. You find me but poorly; but my little niece
here and Dr. -- are very kind. God bless you, my dear friend! We shall
not meet again till we meet in a better world."

I pressed his extended hand to my lips--I pressed it to my bosom--I
would fain have flung myself on my knees; but the doctor, leaving the
patient to the young lady and the servant, who wheeled forward his
chair, and were replacing him in it, hurried me out of the room. "My
dear sir," he said, "you ought to be satisfied; you have seen our poor
invalid more like his former self than he has been for months, or than
he may be perhaps again until all is over. The whole Faculty could
not have assured such an interval. I must see whether anything can be
derived from it to improve the general health. Pray, begone." The last
argument hurried me from the spot, agitated by a crowd of feelings, all
of them painful.

When I had overcome the shock of this great disappointment, I renewed
gradually my acquaintance with one or two old companions, who, though
of infinitely less interest to my feelings than my unfortunate friend,
served to relieve the pressure of actual solitude, and who were not
perhaps the less open to my advances that I was a bachelor somewhat
stricken in years, newly arrived from foreign parts, and certainly
independent, if not wealthy.

I was considered as a tolerable subject of speculation by some, and
I could not be burdensome to any. I was therefore, according to the
ordinary rule of Edinburgh hospitality, a welcome guest in several
respectable families. But I found no one who could replace the loss I
had sustained in my best friend and benefactor. I wanted something more
than mere comp