until I found myself lying in a very spacious bed at the George Inn, having been bled in both arms, and discovering by the multitude of bandages in which I was enveloped, that at least some of my bones were broken by the fall.  That such fate had befallen my collar-bone and three of my ribs I soon learned; and was horror-struck at hearing from the surgeon who attended me, that four or five weeks would be the very earliest period I could bear removal with safety.  Here then at once was a large deduction from my six months’ leave, not to think of the misery that awaited me for such a time, confined to my bed in an inn, without books, friends, or acquaintances.  However even this could be remedied by patience, and summoning up all I could command, I “bided my time,” but not before I had completed a term of two months’ imprisonment, and had become, from actual starvation, something very like a living transparency.

No sooner, however, did I feel myself once more on the road, than my spirits rose, and I felt myself as full of high hope and buoyant expectancy as ever.  It was late at night when I arrived in London.  I drove to a quiet hotel in the west-end; and the following morning proceeded to Portman-square, bursting with impatience to see my friends the Callonbys, and recount all my adventures—­for as I was too ill to write from Northampton, and did not wish to entrust to a stranger the office of communicating with them, I judged that they must be exceedingly uneasy on my account, and pictured to myself the thousand emotions my appearance so indicative of illness would give rise to; and could scarcely avoid running in my impatience to be once more among them.  How Lady Jane would meet me, I thought of over again and again; whether the same cautious reserve awaited me, or whether her family’s approval would have wrought a change in her reception of me, I burned to ascertain.  As my thoughts ran on in this way, I found myself at the door; but was much alarmed to perceive that the closed window-shutters and dismantled look of the house proclaimed them from home.  I rung the bell, and soon learned from a servant, whose face I had not seen before, that the family had gone to Paris about a month before, with the intention of spending the winter there.  I need not say how grievously this piece of intelligence disappointed me, and for a minute or two I could not collect my thoughts.  At last the servant said: 

“If you have any thing very particular, sir, that my Lord’s lawyer can do, I can give you his address.”

“No, thank you—­nothing;” at the same time I muttered to myself, “I’ll have some occupation for him though ere long.  The family were all quite well, didn’t you say?”

“Yes sir, perfectly well.  My Lord had only a slight cold,”

“Ah—­yes—­and there address is ‘Meurice;’ very well.”

So saying I turned from the door, and with slower steps than I had come, returned to my hotel.