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ainedtheexposureofMargaret’srealcharacter,andthosewhichdescribedtheoriginandprogressofMannion’sinfamousplot,nothingintheletterimpressedme,asIwasafterwardsdestinedtobeimpressedbyit,onasecondreading.ThelethargyofallfeelingintowhichIhadnowsunk,seemedaverylethargyofdeath.

Itriedtoclearandconcentratemyfacultiesbythinkingofothersubjects;butwithoutsuccess.AllthatIhadheardandseensincethemorning,nowrecurredtomemoreandmorevaguelyandconfusedly.Icouldformnoplaneitherforthepresentorthefuture.IknewaslittlehowtomeetMr.Sherwin’slastthreatofforcingmetoacknowledgehisguiltydaughter,ashowtodefendmyselfagainstthelife-longhostilitywithwhichIwasmenacedbyMannion.Afeelingofaweandapprehension,whichIcouldtracetonodistinctcause,stoleirresistiblyandmysteriouslyoverme.Ahorrorofthesearchingbrightnessofdaylight,asuspicionofthelonelinessoftheplacetowhichIhadretreated,ayearningtobeamongmyfellow-creaturesagain,tolivewheretherewaslife—thebusylifeofLondon—overcameme.Iturnedhastily,andwalkedbackfromthesuburbstothecity.

ItwasgrowingtowardseveningasIgainedoneofthegreatthoroughfares.Seeingsomeoftheinhabitantsofthehouses,asIwalkedalong,sittingattheiropenwindowstoenjoytheeveningair,thethoughtcametomeforthefirsttimethatday:—whereshallIlaymyheadtonight?HomeIhadnone.Friendswhowouldhavegladlyreceivedmewerenotwanting;buttogotothemwouldobligemetoexplainmyself;todisclosesomethingofthesecretofmycalamity;andthisIwasdeterminedtokeepconcealed,asIhadtoldmyfatherIwouldkeepit.Mylast-leftconsolationwasmyknowledgeofstillpreservingthatresolution,ofstillhonourablyholdingbyitatallhazards,costwhatitmight.

SoIthoughtnomoreofsuccourorsympathyfromanyoneofmyfriends.AsastrangerIhadbeendrivenfrommyhome,andasastrangerIwasresignedtolive,untilIhadlearnthowtoconquermymisfortunebymyownvigourandendurance.Firminthisdetermination,thoughfirminnothingelse,InowlookedaroundmeforthefirstshelterIcouldpurchasefromstrangers—thehumblerthebetter.

Ihappenedtobeinthepoorestpart,andonthepoorestsideofthegreatstreetalongwhichIwaswalking—amongtheinferiorshops,andthehousesoffewstories.Aroomtoletwasnothardtofindhere.ItookthefirstIsaw;escapedquestionsaboutnamesandreferencesbypayingmyweek’srentinadvance;andthenfoundmyselfleftinpossessionoftheonelittleroomwhichImustberesignedtolookonforthefuture—perhapsforalongfuture!—asmyhome.

Home!Adearandamournfulremembrancewasrevivedinthereflectionssuggestedbythatsimpleword.Throughthedarknessthatthickenedovermymind,therenowpassedonefaintrayoflightwhichgavepromiseofthemorning—thelightofthecalmfacethatIhadlastlookedonwhenitwasrestingonmyfather’sbreast.

Clara!Mypartingwordstoher,whenIhadunclaspedfrommyneckthosekindarmswhichwouldfainhaveheldmetohomeforever,hadexpressedapromisethatwasyetunfulfilled.ItrembledasInowthoughtonmysister’ssituation.NotknowingwhitherIhadturnedmystepsonleavinghome;uncertaintowhatextremitiesmydespairmighthurryme;absolutelyignorantevenwhethershemighteverseemeagain—itwasterribletoreflectonthesuspenseunderwhichshemightbesuffering,atthisverymoment,onmyaccount.Mypromisetowritetoher,wasofallpromisesthemostvitallyimportant,andthefirstthatshouldbefulfilled.

Myletterwasveryshort.I







































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