the reappearance of this
unhappy woman at your house. She is fully occupied in writing (at my
suggestion) to her friends in Canada; and she is under the care of the
landlady at her lodgings--an experienced and trustworthy person, who
has satisfied the doctor as well as myself of her fitness for the charge
that she has undertaken.

"Pray mention this to Miss Roseberry (whenever you think it desirable),
with the respectful expression of my sympathy, and of my best wishes for
her speedy restoration to health. And once more forgive me for failing,
under stress of necessity, to enjoy the hospitality of Mablethorpe
House."

Lady Janet closed Julian's letter, feeling far from satisfied with it.
She sat for a while, pondering over what her nephew had written to her.

"One of two things," thought the quick-witted old lady. "Either the
lawyer is right, and Julian is a fit companion for the madwoman whom he
has taken under his charge, or he has some second motive for this absurd
journey of his which he has carefully abstained from mentioning in his
letter. What can the motive be?"

At intervals during the night that question recurred to her ladyship
again and again. The utmost exercise of her ingenuity failing to answer
it, her one resource left was to wait patiently for Julian's return,
and, in her own favorite phrase, to "have it out of him" then.

The next morning Lady Janet and her adopted daughter left Mablethorpe
House for Brighton; Horace (who had begged to be allowed to accompany
them) being sentenced to remain in London by Mercy's express desire.
Why--nobody could guess; and Mercy refused to say.

CHAPTER XIII. ENTER JULIAN.

A WEEK has passed. The scene opens again in the dining-room at
Mablethorpe House.

The hospitable table bears once more its burden of good things for
lunch. But on this occasion Lady Janet sits alone. Her attention is
divided between reading her newspaper and feeding her cat. The cat is
a sleek and splendid creature. He carries an erect tail. He rolls
luxuriously on the soft carpet. He approaches his mistress in a series
of coquettish curves. He smells with dainty hesitation at the choicest
morsels that can be offered to him. The musical monotony of his purring
falls soothingly on her ladyship's ear. She stops in the middle of a
leading article and looks with a careworn face at the happy cat. "Upon
my honor," cries Lady Janet, thinking, in her inveterately ironical
manner, of the ca