ose attention, was his
only resource against melancholia; he knew not how else to occupy
himself. Adam Smith's classical work, perused with laborious
thoroughness, gave him employment for a couple of months; subsequently
he plodded through all the volumes of Hallam.

His landlady, and the neighbours who were at leisure to observe him
when he went out for his two hours' walk in the afternoon, took him for
an old gentleman of sixty-five or so. He no longer held himself
upright, and when out of doors seldom raised his eyes from the ground;
grey streaks had begun to brindle his hair; his face grew yellower and
more deeply furrowed. Of his personal appearance, even of cleanliness,
he became neglectful, and occasionally it happened that he lay in bed
all through the morning, reading, dozing, or in a state of mental
vacuity.

It was long since he had seen his relative, the sprightly widow; but he
had heard from her. On the point of leaving England for her summer
holiday, Mrs. Luke sent him a few lines, urging him, in the language of
the world, to live more sensibly, and let his wife 'have her head' now
and then; it would be better for both of them. Then followed the time
of woe, and for many weeks he gave no thought to Mrs. Luke. But close
upon the end of the year he received one day a certain society journal,
addressed in a hand he knew to the house at Herne Hill. In it was
discoverable, marked with a red pencil, the following paragraph.

'Among the English who this year elected to take their repose and
recreation at Trouville there was no more brilliant figure than Mrs.
Luke Widdowson. This lady is well know in the _monde_ where one never
_s'ennuie_; where smart people are gathered together, there is the
charming widow sure to be seen. We are able to announce that, before
leaving Trouville, Mrs. Widdowson had consented to a private engagement
with Capt. William Horrocks--no other, indeed, than "Captain Bill," the
universal favourite, so beloved by hostesses as a sure dancing man. By
the lamented death of his father, this best of good fellows has now
become Sir William, and we understand that his marriage will be
celebrated after the proper delays. Our congratulations!'

Subsequently arrived a newspaper with an account of the marriage. Mrs.
Luke was now Lady Horrocks: she had the title desired of her heart.

Another two months went by, and there came a letter--re-addressed, like
the other communications, at the post offi