"If you will trust yourself to me, and to a faithful female nurse whom I can secure, I promise you, upon my honor as a gentleman, that I will allow no one else to see you, living or dead. My dear madam, I beg you to reconsider, and remain where I can watch over, and perhaps preserve your life. I dreaded this. You are feverish now." Wearily she swept her hand across her forehead, and a dreary smile flitted over her wan features. "My life is a worthless, melancholy thing, useless to others, and a crushing burden to me; and I might as well lay it down here as elsewhere. I accept your promise, Dr. Clingman, and hope you will obtain a room in the quiet and secluded portion of the building. If I should be so fortunate as to die, do not forget the memorandum in this purse. I leave my body in your care, my soul in the hands of Him who alone can give it rest." "The burden of my days is hard to bear, But God knows best; And I have prayed,--but vain has been my prayer,-- For rest--for rest." CHAPTER XXXII. "Miss Dexter, have you succeeded in seeing Mrs. Gerome since her return?" "No, sir; she obstinately refuses to admit me, though I have called twice at the house. Yesterday I received a letter in answer to several that I have addressed to her, all of which she returned unopened. Since you have already learned so much of our melancholy history, why should I hesitate to acquaint you with the contents of her letter? You know the object of her journey north, and I will read you the result." The governess drew a letter from her pocket, and Dr. Grey leaned his face on his hand and listened. "SOLITUDE, _May 10th, 18--_.