d me; and, if ever there was
a pang which baffles description--if ever there was an act
which resembles suicide, in all but the apparent suspension of
agony which death seems to yield, it was mine, when I closed
that door; and, with a weakened frame, an aching head, and a
broken heart, dragged myself with difficulty along the street,
and stood shivering and burning at once, to wait till the
first hackney-coach appeared on the stand.

I called one, and drove to the place from which I had seen
that the stage-coaches set off. I saw the name of--on one of
them, and secured a place. An hour afterwards we started; and,
as I drove out of London, it was snowing hard.

After a few hours' travelling, the burning fever which had
supported me, subsided: and the horrible solitude of the
future appalled me. Nothing like a hope before me--nothing but
the cold chill of despair in my heart--nothing but strange
voices and faces about me. A dark, heavy, speechless grief
weighed like lead on my soul, but wrought like fire in my
brain.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Late that night I reached this place.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

From that moment to this, a night of horror has gathered
around me. No tidings have reached, no enemy has pursued, no
friend has discovered me. I am alone, and I am dying. I watch
day by day the progress of the disease which is killing mc. In
reckless despair I accelerate its progress; and then I tremble
and shudder at the approach of death. I drag myself to the
cathedral, and in its awful silence, or in the low chaunting
of the choir, I find a soothing power, which acts at times as
a spell over the dark visions and secret terrors of my soul.

But I cannot pray when others pray. My brain is confused, and
my spirit weary. I cannot kneel in mockery before God, while
my soul rebels against Him. The voices of the dead and of the
dying mingle with the rise and fall of the organ. Sometimes a
note vibrates on my ear like a death-cry--the sound of rushing
waters besets me--the curse of Cain follows me, and his words
of complaint are ever upon my lips--"My punishment is greater
than I can bear!"

Is there no balm for such sorrows? No refuge for such despair?
Tell me, ye who know; for verily, my soul is in great agony,
and there is none to comfort me! I am passing through the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and God is not with me!

CONCLUSION.

"What angel shall
Bless this unworthy husband? He ca