owed himself to be carried in
and out of the carriages and up and down the hotel stairs almost as
though he were a child. The delay was terribly grievous to Stanbury,
and Mrs. Trevelyan, perceiving this more than once, begged him to
leave them, and to allow her to finish the journey with the aid
of the courier. But this he could not do. He wrote letters to
his friends at the D. R. office, explaining his position as well
as he could, and suggesting that this and that able assistant
should enlighten the British people on this and that subject,
which would,--in the course of nature, as arranged at the D. R.
office,--have fallen into his hands. He and Mrs. Trevelyan became
as brother and sister to each other on their way home,--as, indeed,
it was natural that they should do. Were they doing right or wrong
in this journey that they were taking? They could not conceal from
themselves that the labour was almost more than the poor wretch could
endure; and that it might be, as he himself had suggested, that they
would be called on to bury him on the road. But that residence at
Casalunga had been so terrible,--the circumstances of it, including
the solitude, sickness, madness, and habits of life of the wretched
hermit, had been so dangerous,--the probability of interference on
the part of some native authority so great, and the chance of the
house being left in Trevelyan's possession so small, that it had
seemed to him that they had no other alternative; and yet, how would
it be if they were killing him by the toil of travelling? From
Chambery, they made the journey to Paris in two days, and during that
time Trevelyan hardly opened his mouth. He slept much, and ate better
than he had done in the hotter climate on the other side of the Alps.

They found a telegram at Paris, which simply contained the promise
of a letter for the next day. It had been sent by Nora, before she
had gone out on her search. But it contained one morsel of strange
information; "Lady Milborough is going with me." On the next day
they got a letter, saying that a cottage had been taken, furnished,
between Richmond and Twickenham. Lady Milborough had known of the
cottage, and everything would be ready then. Nora would herself meet
them at the station in London, if they would, as she proposed, stay
a night at Dover. They were to address to her at Lady Milborough's
house, in Eccleston Square. In that case, she would have a carriage
for them at the Victoria Sta