For a while his health improved, but when the novelty produced by change of scene began to decline he grew worse again, and brooded more deeply than ever over his bitter disappointment, and consequently derived but little benefit from the change; the spirit was too much broken for the body to mend--his heart was too sore to beat healthily or happily.
He wrote often now to Emily and her husband, and seemed desirous to atone for his past neglect.

Emily had written to him first; she had learned of his disappointment, and gave him a sister's sympathy in his loneliness and sorrow.
The chilly month of March had scarcely passed away when they received a letter from him informing them of his intention to return.

He wrote, "I am no better, and my physician says that a longer residence here will not benefit me in the least--that I came _too late_.

I cough, cough, cough, incessantly, and each day become more feeble.

I am coming home, Emmy; coming home, I fear, to die.