she grows more solitary every day; and I don't know how it is, but I am
not so fond of strange faces as I used to be. 'Tis a new thing for me
to be avoided and alone. Why, I remember even little Sid, who had as
much venom as most men, once said it was impossible to--Fie now--see if
I was not going to preach a sermon from a text in favour of myself! But
come, Morton, come, I long for your face again: it is not so soft as
Aubrey's, nor so regular as Gerald's; but it is twice as kind as either.
Come, before it is too late: I feel myself going; and, to tell thee a
secret, the doctors tell me I may not last many months longer. Come,
and laugh once more at the old knight's stories. Come, and show him
that there is still some one not too good to love him. Come, and I will
tell thee a famous thing of old Rowley, which I am too ill and too sad
to tell thee now.

WM. DEVEREUX.


Need I say that, upon receiving this letter, I resolved, without any
delay, to set out for Devereux Court? I summoned Desmarais to me; he
answered not my call: he was from home,--an unfrequent occurrence with
the necessitarian valet. I waited his return, which was not for some
hours, in order to give him sundry orders for my departure. The
exquisite Desmarais hemmed thrice,--"Will Monsieur be so very kind as to
excuse my accompanying him?" said he, with his usual air and tone of
obsequious respect.

"And why?" The valet explained. A relation of his was in England only
for a few days: the philosopher was most anxious to enjoy his society, a
pleasure which fate might not again allow him.