to make— the sacrifice of my heart's dearest feelings.
With no prospects before me, with no
chance of coming home, what hope can I feel of
performing my engagement to yourself? None!
A more selfish man than I am, might hold you to
that engagement; a less considerate man than I
am, might keep you waiting for years—and to
no purpose after all. Cruelly as they have been
trampled on, my feelings are too sensitive to
allow me to do this. I write it with the tears in
my eyes— you shall not link your fate to an outcast.
Accept these heart-broken lines as releasing
you from your promise. Our engagement
is at an end.

" The one consolation which supports me, in
bidding you farewell, is— that neither of us is to
blame. You may have acted weakly, under my
father's influence, but I am sure you acted for the
best. Nobody knew what the fatal consequences
of driving me out of England would be, but myself
— and I was not listened to. I yielded to
my father, I yielded to you; and this is the end
of it!

"I am suffering too acutely to write more.
May you never know what my withdrawal from
our engagement has cost me! I beg you will
not blame yourself. It is not your fault that I
have had all my energies misdirected by others,
— it is not your fault that I have never had a
fair chance of getting on in life. Forget the
deserted wretch, who breathes his heartfelt
prayers for your happiness, and who will ever
remain your friend and well-wisher,

"FRANCIS CLARE, JUN."

VI.

FROM FRANCIS CLARE, SEN., TO MAGDALEN.

(Enclosing the Preceding Letter.)

"I always told your poor father my son was a
fool; but I never knew he was a Scoundrel until
the mail came in from China. I have every
reason to believe that he has left his employers,
under the most disgraceful circumstances. Forget
him from this time forth, as I do. When you
and I last set eyes on each other, you behaved
well to me in this business. All I can now say
in return, I do say. My girl, I am sorry for you.

'F. C."

VII.

FROM MRS. WRAGGE TO HER HUSBAND.

" dear sir for mercy's sake come here and help
us She had a dreadful letter, I don't know what
yesterday but she read it in bed and when I went
in with her breakfast I found her dead and if the
doctor had not been two doors off nobody else
could have brought her to life again and she sits
and looks dreadful and wont speak a word her
eyes frighten me so I shake from head to foot oh
please do come I keep things as tidy as I can and
I do like her so and she used to be so kind to me
and the landlord says he's afraid she'll destroy
herself. I wish I could write straight but I do
shake so your dutiful wife matilda wragge excuse
faults and beg you on my knees come and help us
the Doctor good man will put some of his own
writing into this for fear you can't make out mine
and remain once more your dutiful wife matilda
wragge."

[Added by the Doctor.]

"Sir,— I beg to inform you that I was yesterday
called in to a neighbour's, in Vauxhall Walk,
to attend a young lady who had been suddenly
taken ill. I recovered her with great difficulty from
one of the most obstinate fainting fits I ever remember
to have met with. Since that time she
has had no relapse, but there is apparently some
heavy distress weighing on her mind, which it has
hitherto been found impossible to remove. She
sits, as I am informed, perfectly silent and perfectly
unconscious of what goes on about her, for
hours together, with a letter in her hand, which
she will allow nobody to take from her. If this
state of depression continues, very distressing
mental consequences may follow; and I only do
my duty in suggesting that some relative or
friend should interfere, who has influence enough
to rouse her.

" Your obedient servant,

"RICHARD JARVIS, M.R.C.S."

VIII.

FROM NORAH TO MAGDALEN.

" July 5th.

" For God's sake, write me one line to say if
you are still at Birmingham, and where I can find
you there! I have just heard from old Mr Clare.
Oh, Magdalen, if you have no pity on yourself,
have some pity on me! The thought of you
alone among strangers, the thought of you heartbroken
under this dreadful blow, never leaves me
for an instant. No words can tell how I feel for
you! My own love, remember the better days
at home before that cowardly villain stole his
way into your heart; remember the happy time
at Combe-Raven, when we were always together.
Oh, don't, don't treat me like a stranger! We
are alone in the world now — let me come and
comfort you—let me be more than a sister to
you, if I can. One line — only one line to tell
me where I can find you!"

IX.

FROM MAGDALEN TO NORAH.

"July 7th.

" My dearest Norah,

" All that your love for me can wish, your letter
has done. You, and you alone, have found your
way to my heart. I could think again, I could feel
again, after reading what you have written to me.
Let this assurance quiet your anxieties. My
mind lives and breathes once more — it was dead
until I got your letter.

" The shock I have suffered has left a strange
quietness in me. I feel as if I had parted from
my former self— as if the hopes, once so dear to
me, had all gone back to some past time, from
which I am now far removed. I can look at the
wreck of my life more calmly, Norah, than you