Instead of cutting me short anywhere, he drew me on to tell more than I had intended; and his first generous words when I had done were to assure me that he would see himself to the grass being laid and the flowers planted on Mary's grave.

I could almost have gone on my knees and worshiped him when he made me that promise.
Surely this best, and kindest, and noblest of men cannot always be unfortunate! My cheeks burn when I think that he has come back with only a few pounds in his pocket, after all his hard and honest struggles to do well in America.

They must be bad people there when such a man as Robert cannot get on among them.

He now talks calmly and resignedly of trying for any one of the lowest employments by which a man can earn his bread honestly in this great city--he who knows French, who can write so beautifully! Oh, if the people who have places to give away only knew Robert as well as I do, what a salary he would have, what a post he would be chosen to occupy! I am writing these lines alone while he has gone to the Mews to treat with the dastardly, heartless wretch with whom I spoke yesterday.
Robert says the creature--I won't call him a man--must be humored and kept deceived about poor Mary's end, in order that we may discover and bring to justice the monster whose drunken blow was the death of her.

I shall know no ease of mind till her murderer is secured, and till I am certain that he will be made to suffer for his crimes.