“Thank you,” said the visitor. “As you have reposed this confidence in me, I must acquaint you with my name and address, that you may know whom you have trusted.”
He handed her a card containing the following direction: “F. Sedley, 7, Covent Place.”
“I will send for it this afternoon,” said he, as he withdrew, “and will call in upon you again to-day or to-morrow. I shall be anxious to learn how your husband gets on.”
The delirium which attended the early stages of Mr. Elliott’s indisposition continued for some days. At length, consciousness returned.
“How long have I been sick?” he inquired.
He was told.
“And what day is it now?”
“Wednesday, the fourteenth.”
“And to-morrow the exhibition will take place. Oh that I could have held out but two days longer! I would have asked for no more. In that time I should have completed my painting, and it would have been entered in competition. Fate seems to be against me.”