g or dead, no one knows.
Even Sir Percival's solicitor has lost all hope, and has ordered the
useless search after the fugitives to be finally given up.

Our good old friend Mr. Gilmore has met with a sad check in his active
professional career. Early in the spring we were alarmed by hearing
that he had been found insensible at his desk, and that the seizure was
pronounced to be an apoplectic fit. He had been long complaining of
fulness and oppression in the head, and his doctor had warned him of
the consequences that would follow his persistency in continuing to
work, early and late, as if he were still a young man. The result now
is that he has been positively ordered to keep out of his office for a
year to come, at least, and to seek repose of body and relief of mind
by altogether changing his usual mode of life. The business is left,
accordingly, to be carried on by his partner, and he is himself, at
this moment, away in Germany, visiting some relations who are settled
there in mercantile pursuits. Thus another true friend and trustworthy
adviser is lost to us--lost, I earnestly hope and trust, for a time
only.

Poor Mrs. Vesey travelled with me as far as London. It was impossible
to abandon her to solitude at Limmeridge after Laura and I had both
left the house, and we have arranged that she is to live with an
unmarried younger sister of hers, who keeps a school at Clapham. She
is to come here this autumn to visit her pupil--I might almost say her
adopted child. I saw the good old lady safe to her destination, and
left her in the care of her relative, quietly happy at the prospect of
seeing Laura again in a few months' time.

As for Mr. Fairlie, I believe I am guilty of no injustice if I describe
him as being unutterably relieved by having the house clear of us
women. The idea of his missing his niece is simply preposterous--he
used to let months pass in the old times without attempting to see
her--and in my case and Mrs. Vesey's, I take leave to consider his
telling us both that he was half heart-broken at our departure, to be
equivalent to a confession that he was secretly rejoiced to get rid of
us. His last caprice has led him to keep two photographers incessantly
employed in producing sun-pictures of all the treasures and curiosities
in his possession. One complete copy of the collection of the
photographs is to be presented to the Mechanics' Institution of
Carlisle, mounted on the finest cardboar