those dark hours, when sorrow and hopelessness took
away all feeling of _His_ presence, and of my own strength, life, time,
eternity whirled about in my giddy brain just like the helpless logs of
wood tossed by the waves.

In the morning I begged the landlady to go to his lodgings and enquire
how he had passed the night. She told me that a stout elderly lady with
fair ringlets had opened the door of Mr. Morrik's sitting-room--He lay
in the adjoining room and talked so loud in his fever that one could
hear him distinctly from the outside. The lady asked who had sent her,
and on hearing who it was, had made a wry face, and sent her away with
the information that there was no change.

This was a terrible blow to me. I knew what he thought of the
professional philanthropy of the life preserver, and that he had always
purposely avoided her. And now there was she listening to his feverish
talk, and plaguing him with her officiousness in his lucid intervals. I
could not bear the thought.

It was early in the morning when I ascended the stairs of his lodgings,
fully determined not to let any consideration, except what was
necessary for his welfare and tranquillity, prevail over me. My courage
only deserted me for a moment when on knocking at the door a shrill
hard voice called out, "Come in." All my coolness and presence of mind
returned however, when I felt the cold lustreless eyes resting on me,
with a severe rebuking expression; and with a quiet voice I said that I
had come myself to have news of him, as the information of my landlady
did not suffice me. Before she had time to answer Morrik called out my
name from the inner room. "I will go myself," I said, "and ask the
sufferer how he feels. He seems to have recovered his senses."

"Mr. Morrik receives no one," she said, "and your visit would be
against all propriety, a reason, to be sure, which is of little
importance to you?" "At the death-bed of a friend, certainly not," I
replied. He called a second time "Marie;" so opening the folding that
led to his bedroom, I entered without a moment's hesitation.

The small room looked dark, as the only window opened on the narrow,
gloomy street, and was partly covered by a curtain; still it was light
enough for me to see that his pale face was brightened by a ray of
pleasure when I entered. He stretched out his hot hand, and tried to
lift his head. "You have come!" he whispered, "I cannot tell you how
your presence relieves me