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is a possession of the devil. Fetch the chloroform.' "

  Chloroform, applied in the capacity of an exorcism, was entirely

  new to Sir Patrick. He preserved his gravity with considerable

  difficulty. Lady Lundie went on:

  "Hopkins is an excellent person--but Hopkins has a tongue. She

  met our distinguished medical guest in the corridor, and told

  him. He was so good as to come to the door. I was shocked to

  trouble him to act in his professional capacity while he was a

  visitor, an honored visitor, in my house. Besides, I considered

  it more a case for a clergyman than for a medical man. However,

  there was no help for it after Hopkins's tongue. I requested our

  eminent friend to favor us with--I think the exact scientific

  term is--a Prognosis. He took the purely material view which was

  only to be expected from a person in his profession. He

  prognosed--_am_ I right? Did he prognose? or did he diagnose? A

  habit of speaking correctly is _so_ important, Sir Patrick! and I

  should be _so_ grieved to mislead you!"

  "Never mind, Lady Lundie! I have heard the medical report. Don't

  trouble yourself to repeat it."

  "Don't trouble myself to repeat it?" echoed Lady Lundie--with her

  dignity up in arms at the bare prospect of finding her remarks

  abridged. "Ah, Sir Patrick! that little constitutional impatience

  of yours!--Oh, dear me! how often you must have given way to it,

  and how often you must have regretted it, in your time!"

  "My dear lady! if you wish to repeat the report, why not say so,

  in plain words? Don't let me hurry you. Let us have the

  prognosis, by all means."

  Lady Lundie shook her head compassionately, and smiled with

  angelic sadness. "Our little besetting sins!" she said. "What

  slaves we are to our little besetting sins! Take a turn in the

  room--do!"

  Any ordinary man would have lost his temper. But the law (as Sir

  Patrick had told his niece) has a special temper of its own.

  Without exhibiting the smallest irritation, Sir Patrick

  dextrously applied his sister-in-law's blister to his

  sister-in-law herself.

  "What an eye you have!" he said. "I was impatient. I _am_

  impatient. I am dying to know what Blanche said to you when she

  got better?"

  The British Matron froze up into a matron of stone on the spot.

  "Nothing!" answered her ladyship, with a vicious snap of her

  teeth, as if she had tried to bite the word before it escaped

  her.

  "Nothing!" exclaimed Sir Patrick.

  "Nothing," repeated Lady Lundie, with her most formidable

  emphasis of look and tone. "I applied all the remedies with my

  own hands; I cut her laces with my own scissors, I completely

  wetted her head through with cold water; I remained with her

  until she was quite exhausted- I took her in my arms, and folded

  her to my bosom; I sent every body out of the room; I said, 'Dear

  child, confide in me.' And how were my advances--my motherly

  advances--met? I have already told you. By heartless secrecy. By

  undutiful silence."

  Sir Patrick pressed the blister a little closer to the skin. "She

  was probably afraid to speak," he said.

  "Afraid? Oh!" cried Lady Lundie, distrusting the evidence of her

  own senses. "You can't have said that? I have evidently

  misapprehended you. You didn't really say, afraid?"

  "I said she was probably afraid--"

  "Stop! I can't be told to my face that I have failed to do my

  duty by Blanche. No, Sir Patrick! I can bear a great deal; but I

  can't bear that. After having been more than a mother to your

  dear brother's child; after having been an elder sister to

  Blanche; after having toiled--I say _toiled,_ Sir Patrick!--to

  cultivate her intelligence (with the sweet lines of the poet ever

  present to my memory: 'Delightful task to rear the tender mind,

  and teach the young idea how to shoot!'); after having done all I

  have done--a place in the carriage only yesterday, and a visit to

  the most interesting relic of feudal times in Perthshire--after

  having sacrificed all I have sacrificed, to be told that I have

  behaved in such a manner to Blanche as to frighten her when I ask

  her to confide in me, is a little too cruel. I have a

  sensitive--an unduly sensitive nature, dear Sir Patrick. Forgive

  me for wincing when I am wounded. Forgive me for feeling it when

  the wound is dealt me by a person whom I revere."

  Her ladyship put her handkerchief to her eyes. Any other man

  would have taken off the blister. Sir Patrick pressed it harder

  than ever.

  "You quite mistake me," he replied. "I meant that Blanche was

  afraid to tell you the true cause of her illness. The true cause

  is anxiety about Miss Silvester."

  Lady Lundie emitted another scream--a loud scream this time--and

  closed her eyes in horror.

  "I can run out of the house," cried her ladyship, wildly. "I can

  fly to the uttermost corners of the earth; but I can _not_ hear

  that person's name mentioned! No, Sir Patrick! not in my pre

  sence! not in my room! not while I am mistress at Windygates

  House!"

  "I am sorry to say any thing that is disagreeable to you, Lady

  Lundie. But the nature of my errand here obliges me to touch--as

  lightly as possible--on something which has happened in your

  house without your knowledge."

  Lady Lundie suddenly opened her eyes, and became the picture of

  attention. A casual observer might have supposed her ladyship to

  be not wholly inaccessible to the vulgar emotion of curiosity.

  "A visitor came to Windygates yesterday, while we were all at

  lunch," proceeded Sir Patrick. "She--"

  Lady Lundie seized the scarlet memorandum-book, and stopped her

  brother-in-law, before he could get any further. Her ladyship's

  next words escaped her lips spasmodically, like words let at

  intervals out of a trap.

  "I undertake--as a woman accustomed to self-restraint, Sir

  Patrick--I undertake to control myself, on one condition. I won't

  have the name mentioned. I won't have the sex mentioned. Say,

  'The Person,' if you please. 'The Person,' " continued Lady

  Lundie, opening her memorandum-book and taking up her pen,

  "committed an audacious invasion of my premises yesterday?"

  Sir Patrick bowed. Her ladyship made a note--a fiercely-penned

  note that scratched the paper viciously--and then proceeded to

  examine her brother-in-law, in the capacity of witness.

  "What part of my house did 'The Person' invade? Be very careful,

  Sir Patrick! I propose to place myself under the protection of a

  justice of the peace; and this is a memorandum of my statement.

  The library--did I understand you to say? Just so--the library."

  "Add," said Sir Patrick, with another pressure on the blister,

  "that The Person had an interview with Blanche in the library."

  Lady Lundie's pen suddenly stuck in the paper, and scattered a

  little shower of ink-drops all round it. "The library," repeated

  her ladyship, in a voice suggestive of approaching suffocation.

  "I undertake t
o control myself, Sir Patrick! Any thing missing

  from the library?"

  "Nothing missing, Lady Lundie, but The Person herself. She--"

  "No, Sir Patrick! I won't have it! In the name of my own sex, I

  won't have it!"

  "Pray pardon me--I forgot that 'she' was a prohibited pronoun on

  the present occasion. The Person has written a farewell letter to

  Blanche, and has gone nobody knows where. The distress produced

  by these events is alone answerable for what has happened to

  Blanche this morning. If you bear that in mind--and if you

  remember what your own opinion is of Miss Silvester--you will

  understand why Blanche hesitated to admit you into her

  confidence."

  There he waited for a reply. Lady Lundie was too deeply absorbed

  in completing her memorandum to be conscious of his presence in

  the room.

  " 'Carriage to be at the door at two-thirty,' " said Lady Lundie,

  repeating the final words of the memorandum while she wrote them.

  " 'Inquire for the nearest justice of the peace, and place the

  privacy of Windygates under the protection of the law.'--I beg

  your pardon!" exclaimed her ladyship, becoming conscious again of

  Sir Patrick's presence. "Have I missed any thing particularly

  painful? Pray mention it if I have!"

  "You have missed nothing of the slightest importance," returned

  Sir Patrick. "I have placed you in possession of facts which you

  had a right to know; and we have now only to return to our

  medical friend's report on Blanche's health. You were about to

  favor me, I think, with the Prognosis?"

  "Diagnosis!" said her ladyship, spitefully. "I had forgotten at

  the time--I remember now. Prognosis is entirely wrong."

  "I sit corrected, Lady Lundie. Diagnosis."

  "You have informed me, Sir Patrick, that you were already

  acquainted with the Diagnosis. It is quite needless for me to

  repeat it now."

  "I was anxious to correct my own impression, my dear lady, by

  comparing it with yours."

  "You are very good. You are a learned man. I am only a poor

  ignorant woman. Your impression can not possibly require

  correcting by mine."

  "My impression, Lady Lundie, was that our so friend recommended

  moral, rather than medical, treatment for Blanche. If we can turn

  her thoughts from the painful subject on which they are now

  dwelling, we shall do all that is needful. Those were his own

  words, as I remember them. Do you confirm me?"

  "Can _I_ presume to dispute with you, Sir Patrick? You are a

  master of refined irony, I know. I am afraid it's all thrown away

  on poor me."

  (The law kept its wonderful temper! The law met the most

  exasperating of living women with a counter-power of defensive

  aggravation all its own!)

  "I take that as confirming me, Lady Lundie. Thank you. Now, as to

  the method of carrying out our friend's advice. The method seems

  plain. All we can do to divert Blanche's mind is to turn

  Blanche's attention to some other subject of reflection less

  painful than the subject which occupies her now. Do you agree, so

  far?"

  "Why place the whole responsibility on my shoulders?" inquired

  Lady Lundie.

  "Out of profound deference for your opinion," answered Sir

  Patrick. "Strictly speaking, no doubt, any serious responsibility

  rests with me. I am Blanche's guardian--"

  "Thank God!" cried Lady Lundie, with a perfect explosion of pious

  fervor.

  "I hear an outburst of devout thankfulness," remarked Sir

  Patrick. "Am I to take it as expressing--let me say--some little

  doubt, on your part, as to the prospect of managing Blanche

  successfully, under present circumstances?"

  Lady Lundie's temper began to give way again--exactly as her

  brother-in-law had anticipated.

  "You are to take it," she said, "as expressing my conviction that

  I saddled myself with the charge of an incorrigibly heartless,

  obstinate and perverse girl, when I undertook the care of

  Blanche."

  "Did you say 'incorrigibly?' "

  "I said 'incorrigibly.' "

  "If the case is as hopeless as that, my dear Madam--as Blanche's

  guardian, I ought to find means to relieve you of the charge of

  Blanche."

  "Nobody shall relieve _me_ of a duty that I have once

  undertaken!" retorted Lady Lundie. "Not if I die at my post!"

  "Suppose it was consistent with your duty," pleaded Sir Patrick,

  "to be relieved at your post? Suppose it was in harmony with that

  'self-sacrifice' which is 'the motto of women?' "

  "I don't understand you, Sir Patrick. Be so good as to explain

  yourself."

  Sir Patrick assumed a new character--the character of a

  hesitating man. He cast a look of respectful inquiry at his

  sister-in-law, sighed, and shook his head.

  "No!" he said. "It would be asking too much. Even with your high

  standard of duty, it would be asking too much."

  "Nothing which you can ask me in the name of duty is too much."

  "No! no! Let me remind you. Human nature has its limits."

  "A Christian gentlewoman's sense of duty knows no limits."

  "Oh, surely yes!"

  "Sir Patrick! after what I have just said your perseverance in

  doubting me amounts to something like an insult!"

  "Don't say that! Let me put a case. Let's suppose the future

  interests of another person depend on your saying, Yes--when all

  your own most cherished ideas and opinions urge you to say, No.

  Do you really mean to tell me that you could trample your own

  convictions under foot, if it could be shown that the purely

  abstract consideration of duty was involved in the sacrifice?"

  "Yes!" cried Lady Lundie, mounting the pedestal of her virtue on

  the spot. "Yes--without a moment's hesitation!"

  "I sit corrected, Lady Lundie. You embolden me to proceed. Allow

  me to ask (after what I just heard)--whether it is not your duty

  to act on advice given for Blanche's benefit, by one the highest

  medical authorities in England?" Her ladyship admitted that it

  was her duty; pending a more favorable opportunity for

  contradicting her brother-in-law.

  "Very good," pursued Sir Patrick. "Assuming that Blanche is like

  most other human beings, and has some prospect of happiness to

  contemplate, if she could only be made to see it--are we not

  bound to make her see it, by our moral obligation to act on the

  medical advice?" He cast a courteously-persuasive look at her

  ladyship, and paused in the most innocent manner for a reply.

  If Lady Lundie had not been bent--thanks to the irritation

  fomented by her brother-in-law--on disputing the ground with him,

  inch by inch, she must have seen signs, by this time, of the

  snare that was being set for her. As it was, she saw nothing but

  the opportunity of disparaging Blanche and contradicting Sir

  Patrick.

  "If my step-daughter had any such prospect as you describe," she

  answered, "I should of course say, Yes. But Blanche's is an

  ill-regulated mind. An ill-regulated mind has no prospect of<
br />
  happiness."

  "Pardon me," said Sir Patrick. "Blanche _has_ a prospect of

  happiness. In other words, Blanche has a prospect of being

  married. And what is more, Arnold Brinkworth is ready to marry

  her as soon as the settlements can be prepared."

  Lady Lundie started in her chair--turned crimson with rage--and

  opened her lips to speak. Sir Patrick rose to his feet, and went

  on before she could utter a word.

  "I beg to relieve you, Lady Lundie--by means which you have just

  acknowledged it to be your duty to accept--of all further charge

  of an incorrigible girl. As Blanche's guardian, I have the honor

  of proposing that her marriage be advanced to a day to be

  hereafter named in the first fortnight of the ensuing month."

  In those words he closed the trap which he had set for his

  sister-in-law, and waited to see what came of it.

  A thoroughly spiteful woman, thoroughly roused, is capable of

  subordinating every other consideration to the one imperative

  necessity of gratifying her spite. There was but one way now of

  turning the tables on Sir Patrick--and Lady Lundie took it. She

  hated him, at that moment, so intensely, that not even the

  assertion of her own obstinate will promised her more than a tame

  satisfaction, by comparison with the priceless enjoyment of

  beating her brother-in-law with his own weapons.

  "My dear Sir Patrick!" she said, with a little silvery laugh,

  "you have wasted much precious time and many eloquent words in

  trying to entrap me into giving my consent, when you might have

  had it for the asking. I think the idea of hastening Blanche's

  marriage an excellent one. I am charmed to transfer the charge of

  such a person as my step-daughter to the unfortunate young man

  who is willing to take her off my hands. The less he sees of

  Blanche's character the more satisfied I shall feel of his

  performing his engagement to marry her. Pray hurry the lawyers,

  Sir Patrick, and let it be a week sooner rather than a week

  later, if you wish to please Me."

  Her ladyship rose in her grandest proportions, and made a

  courtesy which was nothing less than a triumph of polite satire

  in dumb show. Sir Patrick answered by a profound bow and a smile

  which said, eloquently, "I believe every word of that charming

  answer. Admirable woman--adieu!"

  So the one person in the family circle, whose opposition might

  have forced Sir Patrick to submit to a timely delay, was silenced

  by adroit management of the vices of her own character. So, in

  despite of herself, Lady Lundie was won over to the project for

  hurrying the marriage of Arnold and Blanche.

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH.

  STIFLED.

  IT is the nature of Truth to struggle to the light. In more than

  one direction, the truth strove to pierce the overlying darkness,

  and to reveal itself to view, during the interval between the

  date of Sir Patrick's victory and the date of the wedding-day.

  Signs of perturbation under the surface, suggestive of some

  hidden influence at work, were not wanting, as the time passed

  on. The one thing missing was the prophetic faculty that could

  read those signs aright at Windygates House.

  On the very day when Sir Patrick's dextrous treatment of his

  sister-in-law had smoothed the way to the hastening of the

  marriage, an obstacle was raised to the new arrangement by no

  less a person than Blanche herself. She had sufficiently

  recovered, toward noon, to be able to receive Arnold in her own

  little sitting-room. It proved to be a very brief interview. A

  quarter of an hour later, Arnold appeared before Sir

  Patrick--while the old gentleman was sunning himself in the

  garden--with a face of blank despair. Blanche had indignantly

  declined even to think of such a thing as her marriage, at a time

  when she was heart-broken by the discovery that Anne had left her