CHAP. IX. ] Edward in Despair. 163 
under the necessity of giving his employment to another. 
“Return immediately!” That was impossible. What was 
he to do with his collection? How was he to defray his 
debt ? 
It is scarcely to be wondered at, if, under these deplora- 
ble circumstances, despair—despair of the worst description 
—should have got the better, at least for a time, of his over- 
taxed and oversensitive brain. He was in a strange place 
—a place which had once known him, but knew him no 
more. His wife and his five children were altogether de- 
pendent upon him, though they were at present living with 
his aged and infirm parents. He was deep in debt, for 
which, if not liquidated, his collection would be seized—a 
collection, rather than part with which he would have sac- 
rificed his life. At the same time, the loss of work, starva- 
tion, and ruin stared him in the face. Is it surprising that, 
thus situated, despair should for a time have got the mas- 
tery over his better and sounder judgment ? 
The afternoon was far advanced. His dinner, which had 
been brought to him an hour before, still lay untasted. He 
was pacing up and down the apartment, pondering over his 
miserable position, when his father entered. Edward was 
looking so agitated that the old man inquired what ailed 
him? He said he was going out, and went toward the 
door, fearing lest his wife or any of his children might ap- 
pear. His father stepped between him and the door, re- 
monstrating with him, and saying that he was not fit to go 
out in such a state. But a woman entering attracted his 
father’s attention, and Edward was thus allowed to slip 
away unobserved. 
Edward rushed down Union Street, on his way to the 
sands. At first he thought of going to the Dee at the 
Craiglug; but he bethought him that it would be better to 
go to the sea-shore, where it might be thought his death 
was accidental. From the time of his leaving the shop in 
Union Street until about four hours after, when he recovered 
