eople a woman is mad to
deceive--her husband and her physician. You have deceived both."

CHAPTER X.

I suspect Dr. Staines merely meant to say that she had concealed from
him an alarming symptom for several weeks; but she answered in a hurry,
to excuse herself, and let the cat out of the bag--excuse my vulgarity.

"It was all that Mrs. Vivian's fault. She laughed at me so for not
wearing them; and she has a waist you can span--the wretch!"

"Oh, then, you have been wearing stays clandestinely?"

"Why, you know I have. Oh, what a stupid! I have let it all out."

"How could you do it, when you knew, by experience, it is your death?"

"But it looks so beautiful, a tiny waist."

"It looks as hideous as a Chinese foot, and, to the eye of science, far
more disgusting; it is the cause of so many unlovely diseases."

"Just tell me one thing; have you looked at Mrs. Vivian?"

"Minutely. I look at all your friends with great anxiety, knowing no
animal more dangerous than a fool. Vivian--a skinny woman, with a pretty
face, lovely hair, good teeth, dying eyes"--

"Yes, lovely!"

"A sure proof of a disordered stomach--and a waist pinched in so
unnaturally, that I said to myself, 'Where on earth does this idiot put
her liver?' Did you ever read of the frog who burst, trying to swell to
an ox? Well, here is the rivalry reversed; Mrs. Vivian is a bag of bones
in a balloon; she can machine herself into a wasp; but a fine young
woman like you, with flesh and muscle, must kill yourself three or four
times before you can make your body as meagre, hideous, angular, and
unnatural as Vivian's. But all you ladies are mono-maniacs; one might as
well talk sense to a gorilla. It brought you to the edge of the grave.
I saved you. Yet you could go and--God grant me patience. So I suppose
these unprincipled women lent you their stays to deceive your husband?"

"No. But they laughed at me so that--Oh, Christie, I'm a wretch; I kept
a pair at the Lucases, and a pair at Madame Cie's, and I put them on now
and then."

"But you never appeared here in them?"

"What, before my tyrant? Oh no, I dared not."

"So you took them off before you came home?"

Rosa hung her head, and said "Yes" in a reluctant whisper.

"You spent your daylight dressing. You dressed to go out; dressed again
in stays; dressed again without them; and all to deceive your husband,
and kill yourself, at the bidding of two shallow, heartless women, who
would