“ The strongest possible interest,” ho
answered. “It has been my one hope
to make some little atonement to the
poor people whom I have so cruelly
wronged. If the wife and children are
in distressed circumstances (which
seems to bo only too likely) I may place
them beyond tho reach of anxiety—
anonymously, of course. Give me the
surgeon’s address. I shall write instruc
tions for tracing them at my expense—
merely announcing that an Unknown
Friend desires to be of service to tho
General’s family.”
This appeared to mo to boa ihost im
prudent thing to do. I said so plainly
—and quite in vain. With his custom
ary impetuosity ho wrote tho letter at
once, and sent it to tho post that night.
On the question of submitting him
self to medical advice (which I now
earnestly pressed upon him) Romayne
was disposed to be equally unreason
able. But in this ease events declared
themselves in my favor.
Lady Herrick's last reserve of strength
hud given way. She had been brought
to London in n dying state while we
were at Vange Abbey. Romayne was
summoned to his aunt's bedside on the
third day of our residence at the hotel,
and was present at her death. The im
pression produced cm his mind roused
tho better part <>f his nature. He was
more distrustful of him-elf, more acces
sible to persuasion than usual. In this
gentler frame of mind he received a wel
come visit from an old friend, to whom
ho was sincerely attached. Tho visit
—of no great importance iu itself—-led,
as I have since been informed, to very
serious events in Romayne’s later life.
For this reason I briefly relate wbat
took place within my own hearing.
