They went up accordingly.

"Mr. Forriner --" called his wife from the bottom of the stairs
when he and Winthrop had reached the top -- "Mr. Forriner! --
the _end_ room -- put him in the end room."

"Yes -- it isn't very big, but you won't mind that to take a
nap in," said Mr. Forriner, opening the door and ushering
Winthrop in.

Where he left him; and what secrets Winthrop's pillow knew
were known to none but his pillow. But the morning was not all
lost in sleep; and home's fair images did come most sweet
about him before sleep came at all.

He was called to dinner, but chose sleep rather, and slept
well all the afternoon. Towards evening he roused himself, and
though feeling very little strength to boast of, he dressed
himself and went out.

The day had changed. A warmer temperature had thawed off the
thin sleet, and the pavements were drying. The rain-cloud of
the morning was broken up and scattering hither and thither,
and through the clefts of it the sun came blinking in upon the
world. The light was pleasant upon the wet streets and the
long stacks of building and the rolling clouds; and the change
in the air was most soothing and mild after the morning's
harsh breath. Winthrop tasted and felt it as he walked up the
street; but how can the outer world be enjoyed by a man to
whom the world is all outer? It only quickened his sense of
the necessity there was he should find another climate for his
mind to live in. But his body was in no state to carry him
about to make discoveries. He must care for that in the first
place. After some inquiries and wandering about, he at last
made his way into Bank St. and found an eating-house, very
near the scene of his morning's disaster. Winthrop had very
few shillings to be extravagant with; he laid down two of them
in exchange for a small mutton chop and some bread; and then,
somewhat heartened, set out upon his travels again, crossing
over to the west side of the city. He felt glad, as he went,
that his mother -- and his little sister -- did not know at that
moment how utterly alone and foundationless he and his
undertaking were standing in the place he had chosen for the
scene of his labours and the home of his future life. Yet he
corrected himself. Not 'foundationless,' while his strong will
stood unmoved and untouched by circumstance. Let that not be
conquered, it would surely be conqueror, in the long run; and
he determined it should have as long a run as was ne