sent me nevertheless the usual interest. I always fancied it was out of his own pocket, though he pretended not. In the meantime he advised me to apply to my relations, but I shrank as much from that as I did from becoming a governess. This last misfortune decided me to take the advice of Mademoiselle Giroux. She settled everything for me, and after having sold the furniture-such as it was-and two pictures I had by me, I found myself in possession of a few hundred francs, which I trusted would enable me to live until I had succeeded in finding something in London.

My great and terrible trial was to bid farewell to the lowly mound which covered the remains of my beloved husband. There, day after day I had sat, prayed and wept, and evoked the adored phantom of my own Edouard; I could scarcely tear myself from it. Two simple black crosses marked-one, the last resting-place of the high-born, and the other that of the low-born according to the world's notions, but high in feelings and deeds. I had planted some flowers round the graves; I gathered a few, and with an aching heart I took the last farewell of the place which had seen my tears, heard my bitter complaints, the wailings of my miserable soul; and I took away with me a sketch of that hallowed spot which probably would never be again trodden by my footsteps.

THIRD PART.

I

WENT to Calais, and from thence embarked for England. I shall never forget the effect the first sight of the English coast produced upon me. I had left a bright blue sky in France, and as we entered the Thames, an indescribable gloom seemed to hover around us. It was a grey, dull sky, with such a heavy, smoky atmosphere that it made me feel ten times more miserable. The shipping was quite à novel sight to me; and the busy river alive with boats of all descriptions, would at any other time have attracted and amused me; but in my present frame of mind everything appeared wretched, and I looked upon all surrounding objects with tearful eyes, and wished that the Almighty had taken me when He called my dear husband to Himself.

I was met at the Custom House by Mrs. Jeffrey— Mademoiselle Giroux's friend, a portly, good-natured looking woman, who spoke a few words of French, whereas, I am ashamed to say, I could not say more than yes and no in her native tongue. She most kindly

busied herself about my luggage, and then we went to her house, which was situated in a small narrow street, not far from St. James's Palace, where her husband was groom. I was delighted to find that he came home late at night and went early in the morning; although he was always respectful when several times on Sundays we crossed one another's path.

Mrs. Jeffrey's children were all married. She seemed in tolerably good circumstances, and having little to do, she was always ready to accompany me when I went out. I tried several booksellers, but having no recommendations I could not get anything. However, I was lucky in selling a few drawings; they represented some of my interviews with the Emperor and Joséphine, and they were readily bought. I had already been six weeks in England when I began to suffer most terribly from my head. A year before I had struck myself very badly behind the left ear, and had been in great pain; for a time it ceased, then it returned, and finally I had forgotten all about it; but since I arrived in London it had begun again, with an intensity impossible to describe, and at last my good landlady insisted on my seeing a doctor. "My husband knows of one," she said, "who speaks French; he is a good kind man, and a perfect gentleman too, and you must see him. I had been in bed for several days, and I therefore yielded, though much against my will.

"Doctor West, if you please, ma'am," said Mrs. Jeffrey the next morning.

The Doctor entered; he was an elderly man, with a most remarkable countenance, and as he spoke French fluently, I was soon able to converse with him about my ailments. He looked very serious, and after a little time he said,

“I fear, madam, an operation will be necessary, and as it would be utterly impossible-at least, I am afraid so that it should be done here, if you will take my advice, you will agree to your being removed to the hospital. You will require attention which cannot be given you here, and for a small sum I shall be able to see that you have a little room to yourself, and you will be carefully tended by the

My heart grew sick at this proposal; but what was I to do? I thought of the trouble and annoyance it would give Mrs. Jeffrey if I stopped in the house— especially if I died—and I gave my consent to the Doctor's proposal. Arrangements were made with the landlady, who promised to keep all my things for me, and also to come and see me as often as she possibly could. Towards evening Doctor West's carriage was at the door, and Mrs. Jeffrey took me to the hospital. Oh, what a night I passed! I had been once to the hospital of——, where the good Sister Silvine, who had nursed me during my illness was; and I had forgotten that there would be no Sister of Charity to soothe me, but merely hirelings, who whatever their feelings may be, can never approach those dear, good, devoted creatures, who do everything for

the love of God alone. Oh, how different from Sister Silvine, what a contrast, was the tall gaunt, hard-featured woman, who nursed me, to the gentle, pretty, and nobly born sister! However, the next day I found that I was not to be so miserably treated as I expected, for after the visit of the doctors and students—that was another fearful trial-Doctor West soon returned and told me that I should have to wait a few days before the operation could be performed, and that a young house-student or surgeonI forgot which-would see that everything was properly done for me.

Towards six o'clock, the young man came and asked the nurse whether I had had my tea, to which she replied that I had refused to touch anything. He approached my bed, took my hand and felt my pulse, and touched gently the abscess that had formed behind my ear, and which caused me such agony that I could not possibly open my mouth to swallow my food, or even to articulate a few words. Whilst he was feeling my pulse, I had leisure to examine him; he looked about two-and-twenty; his face was not handsome, but still there was something extremely winning in it. The eyes were greyish brown, soft and impressive, the mouth was too large, the lips slightly thick, but as soon as they parted they displayed a row of beautiful teeth; and his was a sunny smile, which was very refreshing after the hard face of nurse Higgins. The brow was like polished marble; the hair of that rich brown which in the sun