minutes ago, whose invitation to lodge with him to-night had been
accepted. They had just gone out together. Who, I asked, was the
gentleman? The landlord had no knowledge of him; he knew neither his
place of abode nor his name. Was Mr. Capper expected to return hither in
the morning? No; he had heard the stranger propose to Mr. Capper to go
with him into the country to-morrow, and Mr. Capper, he believed, had
assented.

This disappointment was peculiarly severe. I had lost, by my own
negligence, the only opportunity that would offer of meeting my friend.
Had even the recollection of my loss been postponed for three minutes, I
should have entered the house, and a meeting would have been secured. I
could discover no other expedient to obviate the present evil. My heart
began now, for the first time, to droop. I looked back, with nameless
emotions, on the days of my infancy. I called up the image of my mother.
I reflected on the infatuation of my surviving parent, and the
usurpation of the detestable Betty, with horror. I viewed myself as the
most calamitous and desolate of human beings.

At this time I was sitting in the common room. There were others in the
same apartment, lounging, or whistling, or singing. I noticed them not,
but, leaning my head upon my hand, I delivered myself up to painful and
intense meditation. From this I was roused by some one placing himself
on the bench near me and addressing me thus:--"Pray, sir, if you will
excuse me, who was the person whom you were looking for just now?
Perhaps I can give you the information you want. If I can, you will be
very welcome to it." I fixed my eyes with some eagerness on the person
that spoke. He was a young man, expensively and fashionably dressed,
whose mien was considerably prepossessing, and whose countenance bespoke
some portion of discernment. I described to him the man whom I sought.