that I would get her out of the house with as
little delay and as little harshness as possible.
Under these circumstances, what could I do?
I may seem to have been wanting in consideration
towards you, in proceeding on my own
sole responsibility ; but Mrs. Frankland was
in such a state of excitement that I could not
tell what might be the consequence of
opposing her, or of venturing on any delays;
and after the difficulty had been got over, she
would not hear of your being disturbed by a
summons to the inn. I am sure you will
understand this explanation, doctor, in the spirit
in which I offer it?"

Mr. Orridge began to look a little confused.
His solid substructure of independence was
softening and sinking from under him. He
found himself thinking—no, not exactly
thinking, but the next thing to it—of the
cultivated manners of the wealthy classes;
his thumbs slipped mechanically out of the
arm-holes of his waistcoat; and, before he well
knew what he was about, he was stammering
his way through all the choicest intricacies
of a complimentary and respectful reply.

"You will naturally be anxious to know
what the new nurse said, or did, to frighten
my wife so," pursued Mr. Frankland. "I can
tell you nothing in detail; for Mrs. Frankland
was in such a state of nervous dread
last night that I was really afraid of asking
for any explanations; and I have purposely
waited to make inquiries this morning, until
you could come here and accompany me
upstairs. You kindly took so much trouble to
secure this unlucky woman's attendance, that
you have a right to hear all that can be
alleged against her, now she has been sent
away. Considering all things, Mrs. Frankland
is not so ill this morning as I was afraid
she would be. She expects to see you with
me; and if you will kindly give me your arm,
we will go up to her immediately."

Mr. Orridge uncrossed his legs, rose in a
great hurry, and even went the length,
instinctively, of making a bow. Let it not be
imagined that he compromised his independence,
while he acted in this way, by reflecting
on rich men in a too hasty spirit of approval.
When he mechanically committed himself to
a bow, forgetting at the moment that Mr.
Frankland was incapable of appreciating that
art of homage, he was only thinking, in the
most unmercenary and abstract way, of Blood,
—of the breeding it brought with it—of the
inscrutable value that it gave to words which
would sound quite simple and common-place
in the mouths of ordinary people. Mr. Orridge
was possessed—and it is due to him, to record
the fact—of most of the virtues of his species,
especially of that widely-spread virtue which
preserves people from allowing their opinions
to be seriously influenced by personal
considerations. We all have our faults; but it is, at
least, consolatory to think how very few of our
dearest friends—to say nothing of ourselves
—are ever guilty of such weakness as that!

On entering Mrs. Frankland's room, the
doctor saw at a glance, that she had been
altered for the worse by the events of the
past evening. He remarked that the smile
with which she greeted her husband was the
faintest and saddest he had seen on her face.
Her eyes looked dim and weary, her skin was
dry, her pulse was irregular. It was plain
that she had passed a wakeful night, and that
her mind was not at ease. She dismissed the
inquiries of her medical attendant as briefly
as possible, and led the conversation immediately,
of her own accord, to the subject of
Mrs. Jazeph.

"I suppose you have heard what has
happened," she said, addressing Mr. Orridge.
"I can't tell you how grieved I am about it.
My conduct must look in your eyes, as well
as in the eyes of the poor, unfortunate nurse,
the conduct of a capricious, unfeeling woman.
I am ready to cry with sorrow and vexation,
when I remember how thoughtless I was, and
how little courage I showed. O, Lenny, it
is dreadful to hurt the feelings of anybody—
but to have pained that unhappy, helpless
woman, as we pained her, to have made her
cry so bitterly, to have caused her such
humiliation and wretchedness—"

"My dear Rosamond," interposed Mr.
Frankland, "you are lamenting effects, and
forgetting causes altogether. Remember
what a state of terror I found you in—
there must have been some reason for that.
Remember, too, how strong your conviction
was, that the nurse was out of her senses.
Surely, you have not altered your opinion on
that point, already?"

"It is that very opinion, love, that has been
perplexing and worrying me all night. I
can't alter it; I feel more certain than ever
that there must be something wrong with
the poor creature's intellect—and, yet, when
I remember how good-naturedly she came here
to help me; and how anxious she seemed to
make herself useful, I can't help feeling
ashamed of my suspicions; I can't help
reproaching myself for having been the
cause of her dismissal last night. Mr. Orridge,
did you notice anything in Mrs. Jazeph's face,
or manner, which might lead you to doubt
whether her intellects were quite as sound as
they ought to be?"

"Certainly not, Mrs. Frankland—or I should
never have brought her here. I should not
have been astonished to hear that she was
suddenly taken ill, or that she had been seized
with a fit, or that some slight accident, which
would have frightened nobody else, had
seriously frightened her. But to be told that
there is anything approaching to derangement
in her faculties, does, I own, fairly surprise me."

"Can I have been mistaken!" exclaimed
Rosamond, looking confusedly and
self-distrustfully from Mr. Orridge to her husband.
"Lenny! Lenny! if I have been mistaken,
I shall never forgive myself."

"Suppose you tell us, my dear, what led