waking or
sleeping!'

'Nay,' said I, 'I know nothing but what you tell me. You say you heard
of her marriage.'

But she caught nothing of what I said. She was praying to the Virgin in
a kind of ecstacy, which seemed to render her unconscious of my very
presence.

From Coldholme I went to Sir Philip Tempest's. The wife of the foreign
officer had been a cousin of his father's, and from him I thought I
might gain some particulars as to the existence of the Count de la Tour
d'Auvergne, and where I could find him; for I knew questions _de vive
voix_ aid the flagging recollection, and I was determined to lose no
chance for want of trouble. But Sir Philip had gone abroad, and it
would be some time before I could receive an answer. So I followed my
uncle's advice, to whom I had mentioned how wearied I felt, both in
body and mind, by my will-o'-the-wisp search. He immediately told me to
go to Harrogate, there to await Sir Philip's reply. I should be near to
one of the places connected with my search, Coldholme; not far from Sir
Philip Tempest, in case he returned, and I wished to ask him any
further questions; and, in conclusion, my uncle bade me try to forget
all about my business for a time.

This was far easier said than done. I have seen a child on a common
blown along by a high wind, without power of standing still and
resisting the tempestuous force. I was somewhat in the same predicament
as regarded my mental state. Something resistless seemed to urge my
thoughts on, through every possible course by which there was a chance
of attaining to my object. I did not see the sweeping moors when I
walked out: when I held a book in my hand, and read the words, their
sense did not penetrate to my brain. If I slept, I went on with the
same ideas, always flowing in the same direction. This could not last
long without having a bad effect on the body. I had an illness, which,
although I was racked with pain, was a positive relief to me, as it
compelled me to live in the present suffering, and not in the visionary
researches I had been continually making before. My kind uncle came to
nurse me; and after the immediate danger was over, my life seemed to
slip away in delicious languor for two or three months. I did not
ask--so much did I dread falling into the old channel of
thought--whether any reply had been received to my letter to Sir
Philip. I turned my whole imagination right away from all that subject.
My uncle remained with m