82
IN A GLASS DARKLY.
It is speaking. It knows all that has happened. It knows everything—it knows you, and is frantic and atrocious. It reviles. I send you this. It knows every word I have written—I write. This I promised, and I therefore write, but I fear very confused, very incoherently. I am so interrupted, disturbed.
"Ever yours, sincerely yours,
"When did this come?" I asked.
"About eleven last night: the man was here again, and has been here three times to-day. The last time is about an hour since."
Thus answered, and with the notes I had made upon his case in my pocket, I was in a few minutes driving towards Richmond, to see Mr. Jennings.
I by no means, as you perceive, despaired
