“Utterly, sir,” echoed Leonard, “utterly.”

“You think so, now,” rejoined the physician.  “But you will find it otherwise hereafter.  I can tell you of one person who has suffered almost as much from your absence as you have done for the loss of Amabel.  The Lady Isabella Argentine has made constant inquiries after you; and though I should be the last person to try to rouse you from your present state of despondency, by awakening hopes of alliance with the sister of a proud noble, yet it may afford you consolation to know that she still cherishes the warmest regard for you.”

“I am grateful to her,” replied Leonard, sadly, but without exhibiting any other emotion.  “She was dear to Amabel, and therefore will be ever dear to me.  I would fain know,” he added, his brow suddenly contracting, and his lip quivering, “what has become of the Earl of Rochester?”

“He has married a wealthy heiress, the fair Mistress Mallet,” replied Hodges.

“Married, and so soon!” cried Leonard.  “And he has quite forgotten his victim?”

“Apparently so,” replied the doctor, with an expression of disgust.

“And it was for one who so lightly regarded her that she sacrificed herself,” groaned Leonard, his head dropping upon his breast.

“Come,” cried Hodges, taking his arm, and leading him out of the room; “we must go and look after your master.”

With this, they made the best of their way to Wood-street.  Arrived at the grocer’s house, they went upstairs, and Hodges immediately pronounced Mr. Bloundel to be suffering from a slight feverish attack, which a sudorific powder would remove.  Having administered the remedy, he descended to the lower room to allay the fears of the family.  Mrs. Bloundel received the happy tidings with tears of joy, and the doctor remained a short time to condole with her on the loss she had sustained.  The good dame wept bitterly on hearing the whole particulars, with which she had been hitherto unacquainted, attending her daughter’s untimely death, but she soon regained her composure.  They then spoke of Leonard, who had remained above with his master,—­of his blighted hopes, and seemingly incurable affliction.

“His is true love, indeed, doctor,” sighed Mrs. Bloundel.  “Pity it is that it could not be requited.”

“I know not how it is,” rejoined Hodges, “and will not question the decrees of our All-Wise Ruler, but the strongest affection seldom, if ever, meets a return.  Leonard himself was insensible to the devotion of one, of whom I may say, without disparagement to our poor Amabel, that she was, in my opinion, her superior in beauty.”

“And does this person love him still?” inquired Mrs. Bloundel, eagerly.  “I ask, because I regard him as a son, and earnestly desire to restore him to happiness.”

“Alas!” exclaimed Hodges, “there are obstacles in the way that cannot be removed.  We must endeavour to cure him of his grief in some other way.”