how shall I meet her, my lost ruined Dora.
Returning home quite restored in health, to
work for my family! Why I return with a
knife in my heart! I look at that
ridiculous "avis" to the travellers, stuck up
there in three languages, and it is as dim
and confused as the figures in a ledger the
day before I set out. God Almighty look
down on me in this agony—have mercy
and pity on me!

I saw the merchant; he was very stiff, and
asked what did I want—was not the
transaction concluded? I explained that I had
exceeded my instructions, and would return
him the money he had paid in excess.

"That comes a little late," he said;
"your principal has heard, I see, of my
transferring my commissions to another
house."

I became very earnest and almost
passionate about the matter, assuring him it
was my fault, that I was in ill-health, and
was suffering, and had a great deal on my
mind, and hoped he would not injure me in
this way.

He looked at me hard, and taking me by
the arm, turned me suddenly to the light,
"Ah! I see—the colour has lost!"

My eyes fell on the ground.

"You are hardly the agent," he went
on, "I would have chosen. You want
resolution. No matter. I won't add to
your troubles. So I will take back the
money. I'll write a receipt now."

"I shall go and fetch it," I said.

"What, not brought it?" he said, laying
down his pen.

"I shall be back in half an hour," I
said.

"Then I can't wait longer," he replied.

I went out hurriedly, but the demons
that had pursued me from the tables were
waiting in the street and joined me. It
was they, I know, who made me lose my
way almost at once, which I could have
sworn I had by heart. I asked it, and
seemed to get more and more astray.
Suddenly at a corner I came upon Grainger,
smoking. For a second I felt glad.

"Why," he said, "you here? Ah! I see,
you have taken my advice—come for
more money, like myself."

"Nothing of the kind," I said, shortly.
"I have come in on business."

"Money is the only business. Are you
going to the train?"

"No," I said, rudely. "I am on some
private affairs of my own."

"O, I see," he said, smiling; "a hint
to mind my own business. Losers are
always privileged. Still I will do you a
good turn. If you are looking for the
bank, it is merely round the corner—that
yellow building."

He was so good-humoured that I took his
hand, and said: "O, Grainger, have
indulgence; I am in a wretched, miserable
way."

"So I see," he said; "and in an absurd
way too. Now, see. You go off and
arrange your affairs, whatever they may
be. I shall wait for you at the Place here.
You are a cup too low to begin with."

I went into the bank—it was just
closing—and drew out the money. I
remembered Mr. B.'s express wish, and
asked for an order on London, less, of
course, the sum I was to return to the
merchant. The clerks were not very civil, and
there was a crowd, owing to some fair that
was going on. Then, when they did attend
to me, they told me it was too late, that their
letters were sealed up, and I could have no
order that day. I was irritable, and,
indeed, the thought before my mind was the
weary journey on the railway, in company
with the weight on my heart; and I said,
I would take the money and try at another
bank, where I would find more civility.
The thousand franc notes were tossed over
to me, and I came away. I buttoned them
up carefully in my pocket, and as I looked
at them, trembled.

I found Grainger, not at the Place, but
outside.

"Now," he said, "you are my prisoner.
I have ready cash; and before you take a
step you must turn into this restaurant,
and have a half bottle of real German
wine. I want it myself desperately. Why,
man, you are in a fever. It is all weakness
and nervousness, and this will put heart, I
hope, into you."

I was indeed weak, and I own I thought
with pleasure of something that would
raise my sinking, sinking heart, which
used periodically to leap downwards, as it
were, and make me think I was going to
die. I felt that there is a stage when you
are in a deep and desperate trouble, when
all you ask for is a little respite, a little
repose; though the trial itself—too awful to
think of—is as fixed as fate, and must be
accepted. I was glad to have him, and we
went in. It was a burning hot day. To
"have something on your mind," on a
bright, sunny, oppressive day, in a great,
strange, white town, makes everything yet
more dismal. The wine was very good,
and did put some heart into me. In truth,