"This is strong language, I know. You shall hear what the facts are, and
judge for yourself.
"Having resigned his curacy, his next proceeding was to offer his
services, as volunteer, to a new missionary enterprise on the West
Coast of Africa. The persons at the head of the mission proved, most
fortunately, to have a proper sense of their duty. Expressing their
conviction of the value of Julian's assistance in the most handsome
terms, they made it nevertheless a condition of entertaining his
proposal that he should submit to examination by a competent medical
man. After some hesitation he consented to this. The doctor's report
was conclusive. In Julian's present state of health the climate of West
Africa would in all probability kill him in three months' time.
"Foiled in his first attempt, he addressed himself next to a London
Mission. Here it was impossible to raise the question of climate, and
here, I grieve to say, he has succeeded.
"He is now working--in other words, he is now deliberately risking his
life--in the Mission to Green Anchor Fields. The district known by this
name is situated in a remote part of London, near the Thames. It is
notoriously infested by the most desperate and degraded set of wretches
in the whole metropolitan population, and it is so thickly inhabited
that it is hardly ever completely free from epidemic disease. In
this horrible place, and among these dangerous people, Julian is now
employing himself from morning to night. None of his old friends ever
see him. Since he joined the Mission he has not even called on Lady
Janet Roy.
"My pledge is redeemed--the facts are before you. Am I wrong in taking
my gloomy view of the prospect? I cannot forget that this unhappy man
was once my friend, and I really see no hope for him in the future.
Deliberately self-exposed to the violence of ruffians and the outbreak
of disease, who is to extricate him from his shocking position? The one
person who can do it is the person whose association with him would be
his ruin--Mercy Merrick. Heaven only knows what disasters it may be my
painful duty to communicate to you in my next letter!
"You are so kind as to ask me to tell you something about myself and my
plans.
"I have very little to say on either head. After what I have
suffered--my feelings trampled on, my confidence betrayed--I am as
yet hardly capable of deciding what I shall do. Returning to my old
profession--to the army--is out of the question, in these leveling days,
when any obscure person who can pass an examination may call himself my
brother officer, and may one day, perhaps, command me as my superior in
rank. If I think of any career, it is the career of diplomacy. Birth
and breeding have not quite disappeared as essential qualifications in
_that_ branch of the public service. But I have decided nothing as yet.