unendurably long to him. At last his chief suffering arose, not from
his shattered hopes and lost fortunes, but from the leaden weight of
the existing hour.

What could he do to shake this off? How could he conquer the
depression that was upon him? He reached his hand to the paper that
was lying near him, and tried to read; but his mind would not answer
to the call. He could not think of the right honourable gentleman's
speech, or of the very able leading article in which it was
discussed. Though the words were before his eyes, he still was
harping back on the injustice of that will, or the iniquity of his
wife; on the imperturbable serenity of George Bertram, or the false,
fleeting friends who had fawned on him in his prosperity, and now
threw him over, as a Jonah, with so little remorse.

He dropped the paper on the ground, and then again the feeling of
solitude and of motionless time oppressed him with a weight as of
tons of lead. He jumped from his chair, and paced up and down the
room; but the room was too confined. He took his hat, and pressing it
on his brow, walked out into the open air. It was a beautiful spring
evening in May, and the twilight still lingered, though the hour was
late. He paced three times round the square, regardless of the noise
of carriages and the lights which flashed forth from the revelries of
his neighbours. He went on and on, not thinking how he would stem the
current that was running against him so strongly; hardly trying to
think; but thinking that it would be well for him if he could make
the endeavour. Alas! he could not make it!

And then again he returned to the house, and once more sat himself
down in the same arm-chair. Was it come to this, that the world was
hopeless for him? One would have said not. He was in debt, it is
true; had fallen somewhat from a high position; had lost the dearest
treasure which a man can have; not only the treasure, but the power
of obtaining such treasure; for the possession of a loving wife
was no longer a possibility to him. But still he had much; his
acknowledged capacity for law pleadings, his right to take high place
among law pleaders, the trick of earning money in that fashion of
life; all these were still his. He had his gown and wig, and forensic
brow-beating, brazen scowl; nay, he still had his seat in Parliament.
Why should he have despaired?

But he did despair--as men do when they have none to whom they
can turn trustingly in thei