I do not propose to harrow myself with a recital of the bitter disappointments I underwent in that quarter of the city, nor is it important for the identification of the Attlebridges as the real participants in the marvels about to be recounted, that I should do more than allude to the fact that the firm of Crumb & Crumpet, after much haggling as to terms, long and tedious discussion regarding merit and character, finally refused my book, as well as all shorter papers submitted to them; a fact which those gentlemen will doubtless remember, should their attention be called to it.
Our lodgings were dreary enough at best, but now that I was alone they seemed unbearable. Beyond my own gloomy feelings, I was made to participate in those of my landlady, who constantly annoyed me with accounts of her financial difficulties; her inability to pay her rent, and the dread that she would be evicted. Greatly against my better judgment, she succeeded in coaxing me into the loan of a pound, a thing I could not afford, but which I did, partly out of sympathy, and partly to get rid of her importunities.
I now occupied myself in preparing a paper on the psychological evolution of the ape, which I hoped to be able to place with another publisher, and which, had it ever been finished, I cannot doubt would have succeeded; but circumstances intervened before the completion of the last pages, which compelled me to relinquish my work, and so the world must suffer. I continued my labor steadily for more than a week, and then began looking anxiously for my brother's return, and took several long walks in the direction from which I believed he would be coming; but I did not meet him, and returned home, each time a little disheartened. During these evenings I retired early, having no one for company, and not being able to afford outside amusement. At the end of ten days I had been so economical that I was quite satisfied with the standing of my finances, and felt lighter-hearted than at any time since arriving. Still I had found nothing to do but write, and the future was uncertain.
Sunday morning was dark and gloomy, and it having been nearly two weeks since Torrence had left, I began to wonder with increased anxiety what had become of him. I had a right to expect him by now, but had neither seen nor heard a word from him since his departure. Could anything have happened? I did not believe it, and knowing how averse he was to letter writing, set it down to the fact that he was busy; and I sincerely hoped profitably so. Still I passed the day in gloomy forebodings, and resolved to go to Gravesend the following morning. That night, however, as I was going to my room, the servant handed me a letter, and I did not realize until I had read it, how anxious I was becoming. The letter ran as follows:
"20 NARROW LANE, GRAVESEND.
Sunday Morning.
"DEAR GURT: Sorry, but can't get over to-day as I expected. Will try and come before next Lord's day. How's the book? Keep your mouth straight, and don't get discouraged,
Yours,
"TORRY."
It wasn't much of a letter, but it was better than nothing, and I was thankful for it. I put it in my pocket, and gave up all thought of Gravesend for the present. Evidently Torrence had found something to occupy him, and I didn't believe he was a man to work long for nothing, but felt provoked that he had not told me what it was. True, I had never written to him, which he had told me to do in Wetherbee's care, should there be anything to write about; but as there wasn't I felt justified in my silence. However, I should now see him soon, and comforted myself with the thought that all was well.