Alfred coloured to the eyes; and sighed deeply.
To have honour thrown in his face, and made
the reason for not aiding him to baffle a
dishonourable conspiracy! But he took the reproof
so sweetly, the man was touched, and, by-and-by,
seeing him deeply dejected, said good naturedly,
"Don't be down on your luck, sir. If you are
really better, which you don't look to have much
the matter now, why not write to the Commissioners
and ask to be let out?"

"Because my letters will be intercepted."

"Ay, to your friends; but not to the Commissioners
of Lunacy. Not in this house, any
way."

"God bless you!" cried Alfred impetuously.
"You are my benefactor; you are an honest
fellow; give me your hand."

"Well, why not? Only you mustn't excite
yourself. Take it easy." (Formula.)

"Oh, no cant among friends!" said Alfred:
"wouldn't you be excited at the hope of getting
out of prison?"

"Well, I don't know but I might. Bound I
am as sick of it as you are."

Alfred got paper and sketched the letter on
which so much depended. It took him six hours.
He tore up two; he cooled down the third, and
condensed it severely: by this means, after much
thought, he produced a close and telling
composition: he also weeded it of every trait and every
term he had observed in mad people's talk, or
the letters they had shown him. So there was
no incoherency, no heat, no prolixity, no " spies,"
no "conspiracy," no italics. A simple, honest,
earnest story, with bitter truth stamped on every
line; a sober, strong appeal from a sore heart
but hard head to the arbiters of his fate.

To the best of my belief no madman, however
slightly touched, or however cunning, ever wrote
a letter so gentle yet strong, so earnest yet
calm, so short yet full, and withal so lucid and
cleanly jointed as this was: and I am no
contemptible judge; for I have accumulated during
the last few years a large collection of letters
from persons deranged in various degrees, and
studied them minutely, more minutely than most
Psychologicals study anything but Pounds, Shillings,
and Verbiage.

The letter went, and he hoped but scarcely
expected an answer by return of post. It did
not come. He said to his heart, " Be still;" and
waited. Another day went by; and another: he
gnawed his heart, and waited: he pined, and
waited on. The Secret Tribunal, which was all
a shallow legislature had left him, " took it easy."
Secret Tribunals always do.

But, while the victim-suitor longed and pined
and languished for one sound from the voice of
Justice and Humanity, and while the Secret
Tribunal, not being in prison itself all this time,
"took it easy," events occurred at Barkington
that bade fair to throw open the prison doors,
and bring father and son, bride and bridegroom,
together again under one roof.

But at what a price!

CHAPTER XL.

MR. HARDIE found his daughter lying ashy
pale on a little bed in the drawing-room of Albion
Villa. She was now scarce conscious. The old
doctor sat at her head looking very grave; and
Julia kneeled over her beloved friend, pale as herself,
with hands clasped convulsively, and great
eyes of terror and grief.

That vivid young face, full of foreboding and
woe, struck Mr. Hardie the moment he entered;
and froze his very heart: the strong man quivered
and sank slowly like a felled tree by the bedside;
and his face and the poor girl's, whose earthly
happiness he had coldly destroyed, nearly met
over his crushed daughter.

"Jane, my child," he gasped; " my poor little
Jane!"

"Oh let me sleep," she moaned feebly.

"Darling, it's your own papa," said Julia softly.

"Poor papa," said she, turning rather to Julia
than to him: "let me sleep."

She was in a half lethargic state.

Mr. Hardie asked the doctor in an agitated
whisper if he might move her home. The doctor
shook his head: " Not by my advice; her pulse
is scarce perceptible. We must not move her,
nor excite her, nor yet let her sink into lethargy.
She is in great danger; very great."

At these terrible words Mr. Hardie groaned:
and they all began to speak below the breath.

"Edward," murmured Mrs. Dodd hurriedly,
"run and put off the auction: put it off altogether:
then go to the railway; nothing must
come here to make a noise: and get straw put
down directly. Do that first, dear."

"You are kinder to me than I deserve," muttered
Mr. Hardie humbly, quite cowed by the
blow that had fallen on him.

The words agitated Mrs. Dodd with many
thoughts: but she whispered as calmly as she
could, "Let us think of nothing now but this
precious life."

Mr. Hardie begged to see the extent of the
injury. Mrs. Dodd dissuaded him; but he persisted.
Then the doctor showed her poor head.

At that the father uttered a scream and sat
quivering. Julia buried her face in the bed-clothes
directly, and sobbed vehemently. It passed faintly
across the benumbed and shuddering father,
"How she loves my child; they all love her:"
but the thought made little impression at the
time; the mind was too full of terror and woe.
The doctor now asked for brandy, in a whisper.
Mrs. Dodd left the room with stealthy foot, and
brought it. He asked for a quill. Julia went with
swift, stealthy foot, and brought it. With adroit
and tender hands they aided the doctor, and
trickled stimulants down her throat. Then sat
like statues of grief about the bed; only every
now and then eye sought eye, and endeavoured to
read what the other thought. Was there hope?
Was there none? And by-and-by, so roving is
the mind, especially when the body is still, these
statues began to thrill with thoughts of the past
as well as the absorbing present.