"Lord, Sir, I don't know! but he told us for several days past that he
should not stay over the week, and so we were not surprised when he left
us this morning at seven o'clock. Poor gentleman, my heart bled for him
when I saw him look so pale and ill."

And here I did see the good woman's eyes fill with tears: but she wiped
them away, and took advantage of the additional persuasion they gave to
her natural whine to say, "If, Sir, you know of any young gentleman who
likes fen-shooting, and wants a nice, pretty, quiet apartment--" "I will
certainly recommend this," said I.

"You see it at present," rejoined the landlady, "quite in a litter like:
but it is really a sweet place in summer."

"Charming," said I, with a cold shiver, hurrying down the stairs, with a
pain in my ear, and the rheumatism in my shoulder.

"And this," thought I, "was Glanville's residence for nearly a month! I
wonder he did not exhale into a vapour, or moisten into a green damp."

I went home by the churchyard. I paused on the spot where I had last seen
him. A small gravestone rose over the mound of earth on which he had
thrown himself; it was perfectly simple. The date of the year and month
(which showed that many weeks had not elapsed since the death of the
deceased) and the initials G. D. were all that was engraved upon the
stone. Beside this tomb was one of a more pompous description, to the
memory of a Mrs. Douglas, which had with the simple tumulus nothing in
common, unless the initial letter of the surname corresponding with the
latter initial on the neighbouring gravestone, might authorize any
connection between them, not supported by that similitude of style