“As in the former case, when he was taken ill, so now he prepared for his illness by bringing in a small, but this time utterly inadequate, supply of provisions. Not in a single instance, down to this last attack, has he consented to eat with me; he has always retreated through the rear door and eaten alone. It is now getting hard for me to bear this singular tyranny about the food. He eats with me now, because, being helpless in bed, he cannot avoid it; but he eats so little! It is impossible for him to gain strength in this way, and I am distressed beyond expression. He simply declares that he cannot eat. Singularly enough, he is always urging me of late to eat little, else I shall bring on a long list of disorders that will prevent our escape. For that matter, there is so little left of the store that he brought from the rear that I am uneasy lest the supply be exhausted and he remain stubbornly to his purpose not to trust me to get more from the place behind the rear door. What will be the end of this dreadful situation? “It seems an odd inconsistency in his nature that this subject of eating should consume so much of his wandering thoughts. In his delirium he paints gorgeous pictures of feasts. He marvels at the splendor of Nero’s banquets, and declares that the people with so much to eat must have been fat and content! I hate to put this down, for it seems treasonable to betray this touch of grossness in a nature so singularly fine. If he thinks so much of eating, why should he be urging me to eat sparingly of the rude things that his larder might afford, and that cost me so much effort to eat with a good grace? It is strange how many unexpected things we learn of others in intimate association!... “In glancing over these last pages I see how wretchedly I have failed to give the least insight into our life and relations. How could I ever have had the heart to see, much more put in writing, the slightest flaw in so noble a character? It would seem that the sympathy born of this new relation between us ought to touch only the best in my nature. Shame, shame, shame on me! Do I not see his haunting glance follow me everywhere, and resting upon me always with inexpressible gratitude?