ht of the back
numbers of _The Times_ newspaper. He has politely offered to accompany
me himself to-morrow morning to some place in the City where all the
papers are kept, as he calls it, in file. Till to-morrow, then, I must
control my impatience for news of Armadale as well as I can. And so
good-night to the pretty reflection of myself that appears in these
pages!"

"November 20th.--Not a word of news yet, either in the obituary column
or in any other part of the paper. I looked carefully through each
number in succession, dating from the day when Armadale's letter was
written at Messina to this present 20th of the month, and I am certain,
whatever may have happened, that nothing is known in England as yet.
Patience! The newspaper is to meet me at the breakfast-table every
morning till further notice; and any day now may show me what I most
want to see."

"November 21st.--No news again. I wrote to Midwinter to-day, to keep up
appearances.

"When the letter was done, I fell into wretchedly low spirits--I can't
imagine why--and felt such a longing for a little company that, in
despair of knowing where else to go, I actually went to Pimlico, on the
chance that Mother Oldershaw might have returned to her old quarters.

"There were changes since I had seen the place during my former stay
in London. Doctor Downward's side of the house was still empty. But
the shop was being brightened up for the occupation of a milliner and
dress-maker. The people, when I went in to make inquiries, were all
strangers to me. They showed, however, no hesitation in giving me Mrs.
Oldershaw's address when I asked for it--from which I infer that the
little 'difficulty' which forced her to be in hiding in August last is
at an end, so far as she is concerned. As for the doctor, the people at
the shop either were, or pretended to be, quite unable to tell me what
had become of him.

"I don't know whether it was the sight of the place at Pimlico that
sickened me, or whether it was my own perversity, or what. But now that
I had got Mrs. Oldershaw's address, I felt as if she was the very last
person in the world that I wanted to see. I took a cab, and told the man
to drive to the street she lived in, and then told him to drive back to
the hotel. I hardly know what is the matter with me--unless it is that
I am getting more impatient every hour for information about Armadale.
When will the future look a little less dark, I wonder? To-morrow is