that, if not equal to his own, could become so by sympathy,--a union of
high culture and noble aspiration, and yet of loving womanly sweetness
which a man seldom finds out of books; and when he does find it, perhaps
it does not wear the sort of face that he fancies. Be that as it may,
Graham was still unmarried and heart-whole.

And now a new change in his life befell him. Lady Janet died of a fever
contracted in her habitual rounds of charity among the houses of the
poor. She had been to him as the most tender mother, and a lovelier soul
than hers never alighted on the earth. His grief was intense; but what
was her husband's?--one of those griefs that kill.

To the side of Richard King his Janet had been as the guardian angel.
His love for her was almost worship: with her, every object in a life
hitherto so active and useful seemed gone. He evinced no noisy passion
of sorrow. He shut himself up, and refused to see even Graham. But
after some weeks had passed, he admitted the clergyman in whom on
spiritual matters he habitually confided, and seemed consoled by the
visits; then he sent for his lawyer and made his will; after which he
allowed Graham to call on him daily, on the condition that there should
be no reference to his loss. He spoke to the young man on other
subjects, rather drawing him out about himself, sounding his opinion on
various grave matters, watching his face while he questioned, as if
seeking to dive into his heart, and sometimes pathetically sinking into
silence, broken but by sighs. So it went on for a few more weeks; then
he took the advice of his physician to seek change of air and scene.
He went away alone, without even a servant, not leaving word where he had
gone. After a little while he returned, more ailing, more broken than
before. One morning he was found insensible,--stricken by paralysis.
He regained consciousness, and even for some days rallied strength.