dily weakness, or the perpetual pain
in his head, which no remedy could relieve.

The first date to which he could afterwards recur, though for more than
a week he had apparently been fully himself, was a time when he was
sitting in an easy-chair by the window, obliged to avert his heavy eyes
from the dazzling waters of the Corcyran bay, where Ulysses' transformed
ship gleamed in the sunshine, and the rich purple hills of Albania
sloped upwards in the distance. James Thorndale was, as usual, with him,
and was explaining that there had been a consultation between the doctor
and the colonel, and they had decided that as there was not much chance
of restoring his health in that climate in the spring.

'Spring!' he interrupted, with surprise and eagerness, 'Is it spring?'

'Hardly--except that there is no winter here. This is the 8th of
January.'

He let his head fall on his hand again, and listened with indifference
when told he was to be sent to England at once, under the care of his
servant, Bolton, and Mr. Thorndale himself, who was resolved to see him
safe in his sister's hands. He made no objection; he had become used
to be passive, and one place was much the same to him as another; so he
merely assented, without a question about the arrangements. Presently,
however, he looked up, and inquired for his letters. Though he had done
so before, the request had always been evaded, until now he spoke in a
manner which decided his friend on giving him all except one with broad
black edges, and Broadstone post-mark; the effect of which, it was
thought, might be very injurious to his shattered nerves and spirits.

However, he turned over the other letters without interest, just
glancing languidly through them, looked disappointed, and exclaimed--

'None from Hollywell! Has nothing been heard from them? Thorndale,
I insist on knowing whether De Courcy has heard anything of Lady
Morville.'

'He has heard of her arrival in England.'

'My sister mentions that--more than two months ago--I can hardly believe
she has not written, if she was able. She promised, yet how can
I expect--' then interrupting himself, he added, authoritatively,
'Thorndale, is there no letter for me? I see there is. Let me have it.'

His friend could not but comply, and had no reason to regret having done
so; for after reading it twice, though he sighed deeply, and the tears
were in his eyes, he was more calm and less oppressed than he had been
at an