out with the fierce struggle? Can no man with impunity look into his
own heart and ask himself how his life has been spent?"

Here Warren made a still longer pause than before, and appeared
absorbed in gloomy thought. At last he resumed in a lower tone:

"I had not followed up Ellen's invitation. But in some way she had
discovered my address, and knew of my illness. Do not be alarmed, my
dear Hermann; my story will not become romantic. No heavenly vision
appeared to me during my fever; I felt no gentle white hands laid on
my burning brow. I was nursed at the hospital, and very well nursed
too; I figured there as 'Number 380,' and the whole affair was, as
you see, as prosaic as possible. But on quitting the hospital, and
as I was taking leave of the manager, he handed me a letter, in
which was enclosed a note for five hundred dollars. In the envelope
there was also the following anonymous note:

"'An old friend begs your acceptance, as a loan, of the inclosed
sum. It will be time enough to think of paying off this debt when
you are strong enough to resume work, and you can then do it by
instalments, of which you can yourself fix the amount, and remit
them to the hospital of New York.'

"It was well meant, no doubt, but it caused me a painful impression.
My determination was taken at once. I refused without hesitation. I
asked the manager, who had been watching me with a friendly smile
while I read the letter, whether he could give the name of the
person who had sent it. In spite of his repeated assurances that he
did not know it, I never doubted for a single instant that he was
concealing the truth. After a few seconds' reflection I asked if he