he charity of Mr. D'Arcy. My only excuse for having done
so was that I was entirely unconscious of it; but now that I did know
the relations between us I must of course end them at once. But what
was I to do? Whither was I to go? Besides Miss Dalrymple, whose
address I did not know, I had no friends except Sinfi Lovell and the
Gypsies and a few Welsh farmers. To live upon my benefactor's
generous charity now that I was conscious of it was, I felt,
impossible.

'I was penniless. I had not even money to pay my railway fare to any
part of England. There was only one thing for me to do--write to you.
When I rose in the morning it was with the full determination to
write to you at once. I had been told by Mrs. Titwing that Mr. D'Arcy
always breakfasted alone in a little anteroom adjoining his bedroom,
and always breakfasted late. My breakfast, she said, would be
prepared in what she called the little green room. And when I left my
bedroom, dressed in a morning dress that was carefully laid out for
me, I found the housekeeper moving about in the passages. She
conducted me to the little green room. On the walls were two
looking-glasses in old black oak frames carved with knights at tilt
and angels' heads hovering above them. Each frame contained two
circular mirrors surrounded by painted designs telling the story of
the Holy Grail. The room was furnished with quaint sofas and chairs
on which beautiful little old-fashioned designs were painted. She
told me that as I had not named an hour for breakfasting I should
have to wait about twenty minutes.

'In one corner of the room was a rather large whatnot, on which lay
one or two French novels in green and yellow paper covers and a few
daily and weekly newspapers, which I went and turned over. Among them
I was startled to find a paper called the _Raxton Gazette_. But I saw
at once how it got there, for written on the margin at the top of the
paper was the address, "Dr. Mivart, Wimpole Street, London." Mr.
D'Arcy had told me that the gentleman whose voice I heard behind the
screen was the medical man who attended to me during my illness, and
it now suddenly flashed upon my mind that at Raxton there was a Dr.
Mivart, though I had never seen him during my stay there. These were,
no doubt, one and the same person, and some one from Raxton had
posted the newspaper to the doctor's house in London.

'I looked down the columns of the paper with a very lively interest,
and my eye was so