t hung behind the door, and quite forgot it, Betsey. You'll find a
ingun or two, and a little tea and sugar in his t'other pocket, my dear,
if you'll just be good enough to take 'em out.'

Betsey produced the property in question, together with some other
articles of general chandlery; and Mrs Gamp transferred them to her own
pocket, which was a species of nankeen pannier. Refreshment then arrived
in the form of chops and strong ale for the ladies, and a basin of
beef-tea for the patient; which refection was barely at an end when John
Westlock appeared.

'Up and dressed!' cried John, sitting down beside him. 'That's brave.
How do you feel?'

'Much better. But very weak.'

'No wonder. You have had a hard bout of it. But country air, and change
of scene,' said John, 'will make another man of you! Why, Mrs Gamp,'
he added, laughing, as he kindly arranged the sick man's garments, 'you
have odd notions of a gentleman's dress!'

'Mr Lewsome an't a easy gent to get into his clothes, sir,' Mrs Gamp
replied with dignity; 'as me and Betsey Prig can certify afore the Lord
Mayor and Uncommon Counsellors, if needful!'

John at that moment was standing close in front of the sick man, in the
act of releasing him from the torture of the collars before mentioned,
when he said in a whisper:

'Mr Westlock! I don't wish to be overheard. I have something very
particular and strange to say to you; something that has been a dreadful
weight on my mind, through this long illness.'

Quick in all his motions, John was turning round to desire the women to
leave the room; when the sick man held him by the sleeve.

'Not now. I've not the strength. I've not the courage. May I tell it
when I have? May I write it, if I find that easier and better?'

'May you!' cried John. 'Why, Lewsome, what is this!'

'Don't ask me what it is. It's unnatural and cruel. Frightful to think
of. Frightful to tell. Frightful to know. Frightful to have helped in.
Let me kiss your hand for all your goodness to me. Be kinder still, and
don't ask me what it is!'

At first, John gazed at him in great surprise; but remembering how very
much reduced he was, and how recently his brain had been on fire with
fever, believed that he was labouring under some imaginary horror or
despondent fancy. For farther information on this point, he took an
opportunity of drawing Mrs Gamp aside, while Betsey Prig was wrapping
him in cloaks and shawls, and asked her whether he was qui