320 EPISODE FROM AN UNPUBLISHED NOVEL. 



duced ; but act we must, sacrifices must be made, and the least 

 violent would be to separate for a time. Had she not been with me, 

 I might have remained with safety among the Austrians : she, there- 

 fore, most anxiously advised that I should first establish some certain 

 channel of correspondence ; that she and the child should then re- 

 turn for a time to England ; that I should travel, in search of em- 

 ployment, among the people of the East ; and that, when I should 

 have obtained some permanency, of which, all circumstances con- 

 sidered, there could be little doubt but that I should obtain, she 

 would immediately and without hesitation set forward to join me, 

 however distant or dangerous the journey might be. To separate 

 thus was heart-breaking : still it was the only plan that had in it 

 some glimmering of hope, and, after much consideration, it was that 

 which she finally prevailed on me to endeavour to execute. 



I am very sensible that I have already been much too tedious, and 

 I should become wearisome indeed were I to detail all the pains we 

 took to secure a certain channel of correspondence, and to perform 

 what we intended : suffice it to say, Lady Elizabeth departed for 

 England; and I, first, for Grand Cairo, then, passing through Suez 

 and Bussorah, I went to Ispahan ; that I suffered many hardships, 

 and encountered many difficulties; that we never neglected any 

 opportunity that offered itself for the conveyance of letters ; that, con- 

 soled by the ineffable truth and tenderness of Lady Elizabeth, I re- 

 solutely combatted ill fortune ; and that, at length, I began to have 

 better prospects in view. 



Alas ! that which I believed to be the greatest affliction with which 

 heaven could overwhelm me, was at this moment suspended over my 

 head. Acting in strict conformity to the plan on which at first I 

 consented to live, Lady Elizabeth took an obscure lodging in Lon- 

 don, and sedulously kept herself and child unknown, except to one 

 person. This was an old servant to the late reverend, but now de- 

 ceased Mr. Gordon, who, dying, had charged this man to contribute, 

 by every means in his power, to aid and protect Lady Elizabeth, or 

 myself, if ever he should have an opportunity ; and had left him a 

 small fund, on that condition, and for that purpose. Being a faithful 

 servant, and a conscientious man, and having met Lady Elizabeth by 

 accident, he knew her informed her who he was showed her the 

 Reverend Mr. Gordon's last will arid, by the most solemn assu- 

 rances of his secrecy and fidelity, together with his open behaviour 

 and honest conduct, prevailed on her to admit him to act agreeably 

 to the intentions of his late most worthy master. 



Such was the account given me by Lady Elizabeth, in her letter ; 

 in which, among her other angelic virtues, I could not sufficiently 

 admire the continual efforts she made, when melancholy thoughts 

 forced themselves upon her, to suppress them ; and never to indulge 

 complaint, but patiently resign herself to the will of heaven. I was 

 little aware either that her delicate sensibility, or some unknown 

 cause, was secretly sapping the foundations of life. Previous to her 

 last letter, her utmost complaint had been, " 1 am not quite well ;" 

 and, in another, " I have not yet entirely overcome that severe cold 

 which I caught in the winter, I know not how." I was sorry to iny 



