now that the
gate was shut, cut off from all sight and knowledge of the urban world
that seethed without. I stood and gazed in delighted astonishment.
Sun-gilded trees and flower beds gay with blossom; lupins, snapdragons,
nasturtiums, spiry foxgloves, and mighty hollyhocks formed the
foreground; over which a pair of sulphur-tinted butterflies flitted,
unmindful of a buxom and miraculously clean white cat which pursued
them, dancing across the borders and clapping her snowy paws
fruitlessly in mid-air. And the background was no less wonderful; a
grand old house, dark-eaved and venerable, that must have looked down
on this garden when ruffled dandies were borne in sedan chairs through
the court, and gentle Izaak Walton, stealing forth from his shop in
Fleet Street, strolled up Fetter Lane to "go a-angling" at Temple Mills.

So overpowered was I by this unexpected vision that my hand was on the
bottom knob of a row of bell-pulls before I recollected myself; and it
was not until a most infernal jangling from within recalled me to my
business that I observed underneath it a small brass plate inscribed
"Miss Oman."

The door opened with some suddenness and a short, middle-aged woman
surveyed me hungrily.

"Have I rung the wrong bell?" I asked--foolishly enough, I must admit.

"How can I tell?" she demanded. "I expect you have. It's the sort of
thing a man would do--ring the wrong bell and then say he's sorry."

"I didn't go as far as that," I retorted. "It seems to have had the
desired effect, and I've made your acquaintance into the bargain."

"Whom do you want to see?" she asked.

"Mr. Bellingham."

"Are you the doctor?"

"I'm _a_ doctor."

"Follow me upstairs," said Miss Oman, "and don't tread on the paint."

I crossed the spacious hall, and preceded by my conductress, ascended a
noble oak staircase, treading carefully on a ribbon of matting that ran
up the middle. On the first-floor landing Miss Oman opened a door and,
pointing to the room, said, "Go in there and wait; I'll tell her you're
here."

"I said _Mr._ Bellingham--" I began; but the door slammed on me, and
Miss Oman's footsteps retreated rapidly down the stairs.

It was at once obvious to me that I was in a very awkward position.
The room into which I had been shown communicated with another, and
though the door of communication was shut, I was unpleasantly aware of
a conversation that was taking place in the adjoining room. At first,
ind