I was trembling and my pillow was wet with my tears; for a few moments my heart beat hard, but the bright beams of the sun and the chirping of the birds quickly restored me to myself, and I rose with a languid spirit, yet wondering what events the day would bring forth.

Some time passed before I summoned courage to ring the bell for my servant, and when she came I still dared not utter my father's name.

I ordered her to bring my breakfast to my room, and was again left alone--yet still I could make no resolve, but only thought that I might write a note to my father to beg his permission to pay a visit to a relation who lived about thirty miles off, and who had before invited me to her house, but I had refused for then I could not quit my suffering father.

When the servant came back she gave me a letter.
"From whom is this letter[ ?]" I asked trembling.
"Your father left it, madam, with his servant, to be given to you when you should rise." "My father left it! Where is he?
Is he not here ?" "No; he quitted the house before four this morning." "Good God! He is gone! But tell how this was; speak quick!" Her relation was short.

He had gone in the carriage to the nearest town where he took a post chaise and horses with orders for the London road.