ttom of her heart.
But it was a grievance to a grievance-making temper, such as I feel
mine was.

The most wholesome thing I received was a letter from Prometesky, to
whom I had written the tidings that Harold would never need his comfort
more. The old man was where the personal loss was not felt, and he
knew more deeply than anyone the pain which that strong fervent heart
suffered in its self-conquests, so that he did not grieve for Harold
himself; but he gave me that sympathy of entire appreciation of my loss
which is far better than compassion. For himself, he said his last
link with the world was gone, he found the peace, and the expression of
penitence, his soul required, in the course he was about to embrace,
and I might look on this as a voice from the grave. I should never
hear of him more, but I should know that, as long as life was left him,
it would be spent in prayers for those whose souls he had wrecked in
his overboiling youth. He ended with thanks to all of us, who he said
had sent him to his retreat with more kindly and charitable
recollections than he should otherwise have carried thither. I never
did hear of him again; Dermot went to the convent some years later, and
tried to ascertain if he lived, but the monks do not know each others'
names, and it failed.

The village of St. Clement's, a small fishing-place, was half-a-mile
off, through lanes a foot deep in mud, and with a good old sleepy
rector of the old school, not remarkable for his performances in
Church. I was entering the little shop serving as the post-office,
where I went every day in the unreasonable expectation of letters, when
I heard a voice that made me start, "Did you say turn to the right?"

And there, among the piles of cheeses, stood a figure I knew full well,
though it had grown very thin, and had a very red and mottled face at
the top.

We held out our hands to one another in silence, and walked at once out
of hearing. Dermot said he was well, and had been as kindly looked
after as possible, and now he had been let out as safe company, but his
family and friends would hardly believe it, so he had come down to see
whether he could share our quarantine.

Happily a few cottages of the better sort had accommodation for
lodgers, and one of them--for a consideration--accepted "the
gentleman's" bill of health. He walked on by my side, both of us
feeling the blessing of having someone to speak to. He, poor fellow,
had see