y foreign to her habitual
characteristics; in vain besought me to call on her; in vain waylaid
and accosted me with a humility that almost implored forgiveness. I
vouchsafed no reproach, but I could imply no pardon. I put between her
and my great sorrow the impenetrable wall of my freezing silence.

One word of hers at the time that I had so pathetically besought her
aid, and the parrot-flock that repeated her very whisper in noisy
shrillness would have been as loud to defend as it had been to defame;
that vile letter might never have been written. Whoever its writer, it
surely was one of the babblers who took their malice itself from the
jest or the nod of their female despot; and the writer might have
justified herself in saying she did but coarsely proclaim what the
oracle of worldly opinion, and the early friend of Lilian's own mother,
had authorized her to believe.

By degrees, the bitterness at my heart diffused itself to the
circumference of the circle in which my life went its cheerless
mechanical round. That cordial brotherhood with his patients, which is
the true physician's happiest gift and humanest duty, forsook my
breast. The warning words of Mrs. Poyntz had come true. A patient that
monopolized my thought awaited me at my own hearth! My conscience became
troubled; I felt that my skill was lessened. I said to myself, "The
physician who, on entering the sick-room, feels, while there, something
that distracts the finest powers of his intellect from the sufferer's
case is unfit for his calling." A year had scarcely passed since my
fatal wedding day, before I had formed a resolution to quit L---- and
abandon my profession; and my resolution was confirmed, and my goal
determined, by a letter I received from Julius Faber.

I had written at length to him, not many days after the blow that had
fallen on me, stating all circumstances as calmly and clearly as my
grief would allow; for I held his skill at a higher estimate than that
of any living brother of my art, and I was not without hope in the
efficacy of his advice. The letter I now received from him had been
begun, and continued at some length, before my communication reached
him; and this earlier portion contained animated and cheerful
descriptions of his Australian life and home, which contrasted with the
sorrowful tone of the supplement written in reply to the tidings with
which I had wrung his friendly and tender heart. In this, the latter
part of his l