The latter (continued she) most deeply regrets the step that has occasioned his relapse; but, as usual, he throws the blame upon me. If I had reasoned with him like a rational creature, he says, it never would have happened; but to be treated like a baby or a fool was enough to put any man past his patience, and drive him to assert his independence even at the sacrifice of his own interest. He forgets how often I had reasoned him “past his patience” before. He appears to be sensible of his danger; but nothing can induce him to behold it in the proper light. The other night, while I was waiting on him, and just as I had brought him a draught to assuage his burning thirst, he observed, with a return of his former sarcastic bitterness, “Yes, you’re mighty attentive now! I suppose there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me now?”

“Oh, it’s all a fable,” said he, contemptuously.

“Are you sure, Arthur? are you quite sure? Because, if there is any doubt, and if you should find yourself mistaken after all, when it is too late to turn⁠—”

“It would be rather awkward, to be sure,” said he; “but don’t bother me now⁠—I’m not going to die yet. I can’t and won’t,” he added vehemently, as if suddenly struck with the appalling aspect of that terrible event. “Helen, you must save me!” And he earnestly seized my hand, and looked into my face with such imploring eagerness that my heart bled for him, and I could not speak for tears.

“Are you sure, Arthur? are you quite sure? Because, if there is any doubt, and if you should find yourself mistaken after all, when it is too late to turn⁠—”

“It would be rather awkward, to be sure,” said he; “but don’t bother me now⁠—I’m not going to die yet. I can’t and won’t,” he added vehemently, as if suddenly struck with the appalling aspect of that terrible event. “Helen, you must save me!” And he earnestly seized my hand, and looked into my face with such imploring eagerness that my heart bled for him, and I could not speak for tears.

The next letter brought intelligence that the malady was fast increasing; and the poor sufferer’s horror of death was still more distressing than his impatience of bodily pain. All his friends had not forsaken him; for Mr. Hattersley, hearing of his danger, had come to see him from his distant home in the north. His wife had accompanied him, as much for the pleasure of seeing her dear friend, from whom she had been parted so long, as to visit her mother and sister.