r letter from any place.
Suddenly it occurred to me that the post-mark on the letter would tell me
from whence it came, so I forthwith looked at the back of the letter, and
in the post-mark read the name of a well-known and not very distant sea
port. I then knew with tolerable certainty the port where she had
embarked, and I almost determined to follow her, but I almost instantly
determined to do no such thing. Isopel Berners had abandoned me, and I
would not follow her; "perhaps," whispered Pride, "if I overtook her, she
would only despise me for running after her;" and it also told me pretty
roundly that, provided I ran after her, whether I overtook her or not, I
should heartily despise myself. So I determined not to follow Isopel
Berners; I took her lock of hair, and looked at it, then put it in her
letter, which I folded up and carefully stowed away, resolved to keep
both for ever, but I determined not to follow her. Two or three times,
however, during the day I wavered in my determination, and was again and
again almost tempted to follow her, but every succeeding time the
temptation was fainter. In the evening I left the dingle, and sat down
with Mr. Petulengro and his family by the door of his tent; Mr.
Petulengro soon began talking of the letter which I had received in the
morning. "Is it not from Miss Berners, brother?" said he. I told him it
was. "Is she coming back, brother?" "Never," said I; "she is gone to
America, and has deserted me." "I always knew that you two were never
destined for each other," said he. "How did you know that?" I inquired.
"The dook told me so, brother; you are born to be a great traveller."
"Well," said I, "if I had gone with her to America, as I was thinking of
doing, I should have been a great traveller." "You are to travel in
another direction, brother," said he. "I wish you would tell me all
about my future wanderings," said I. "I can't, brother," said Mr.
Petulengro, "there's a power of clouds before my eye." "You are a poor
seer, after all," said I, and getting up, I retired to my dingle and my
tent, where I betook myself to my bed, and there, knowing the worst, and
being no longer agitated by apprehension, nor agonised by expectation, I
was soon buried in a deep slumber, the first which I had fallen into for
several nights.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE PUBLIC-HOUSE--LANDLORD ON HIS LEGS AGAIN--A BLOW IN SEASON--THE WAY
OF THE WORLD--THE GRATEFUL MIND--THE HORSE'S