It was impossible for him to go to her, and he had no reason to believe that she would come to him.

Under ordinary circumstances it would be natural enough for her to look in upon him and inquire into his condition, but now the case was very different.

She knew that he desired to see her, that he had been coming to her when he met with his accident, and she knew, too, exactly what he wanted to say; and it was not to be supposed that a lady would come to a man to be wooed, especially this lady, who had been in such an unfavorable humor when he had wooed her the day before.
But it was quite impossible for Lawrence, at this most important crisis of his life, to sit without action for three or four days, during which time it was not unlikely that Miss March might go home.

But what was he to do?
It would be rediculous to think of sending for her, she knowing for what purpose she was wanted; and as for writing a letter, that did not suit him at all.

There was too much to be explained, too much to be urged, too much to be avowed, and, probably, too many contingencies to be met, for him to even consider the subject of writing a letter.