In a tone of forced composure, he called out the number of his box, and received from the clerk two letters.

He glanced at the post-mark of one, and read--"New York," and at the other, and saw--"Boston." For a moment or two his breath was suspended, and his knees smote together.

Then he moved away, slowly, with such a pressure on his feelings that the weight was reproduced on his physical system, and he walked with difficulty.
The letters were from business correspondents, and in no way affected the position of extremity he occupied.

For a greater part of the morning Mr.Howland sat musing at his desk, in a kind of dreamy abstraction.

All effort was felt to be useless, and he made none.