o invite you, my dear madam, to become for a limited period an
inmate of My Sanitarium."

Miss Gwilt's rapid needle suddenly stopped. "I understand you," she said
again, as quietly as before.

"I beg your pardon," said the doctor, with another attack of deafness,
and with his hand once more at his ear.

She laughed to herself--a low, terrible laugh, which startled even the
doctor into taking his hand off the back of her chair.

"An inmate of your Sanitarium?" she repeated. "You consult appearances
in everything else; do you propose to consult appearances in receiving
me into your house?"

"Most assuredly!" replied the doctor, with enthusiasm. "I am surprised
at your asking me the question! Did you ever know a man of any eminence
in my profession who set appearances at defiance? If you honor me
by accepting my invitation, you enter My Sanitarium in the most
unimpeachable of all possible characters--in the character of a
Patient."

"When do you want my answer?"

"Can you decide to-day?"

"To-morrow?"

"Yes. Have you anything more to say?"

"Nothing more."

"Leave me, then. _I_ don't keep up appearances. I wish to be alone, and
I say so. Good-morning."

"Oh, the sex! the sex!" said the doctor, with his excellent temper in
perfect working order again. "So delightfully impulsive! so charmingly
reckless of what they say or how they say it! 'Oh, woman, in our hours
of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please!' There! there! there!
Good-morning!"

Miss Gwilt rose and looked after him contemptuously from the window,
when the street door had closed, and he had left the house.

"Armadale himself drove me to it the first time," she said. "Manuel
drove me to it the second time.--You cowardly scoundrel! shall I let
_you_ drive me to it for the third time, and the last?"

She turned from the window, and looked thoughtfully at her widow's dress
in the glass.

The hours of the day passed--and she decided nothing. The night
came--and she hesitated still. The new morning dawned--and the terrible
question was still unanswered.

By the early post there came a letter for her. It was Mr. Bashwood's
usual report. Again he had watched for Allan's arrival, and again in
vain.

"I'll have more time!" she determined, passionately. "No man alive shall
hurry me faster than I like!"

At breakfast that morning (the morning of the 9th) the doctor was
surprised in his study by a visit from Miss Gwilt.

"I want another day," s