he helped me to rouse Mrs. Clements. Mrs. Clements is my
friend. A good, kind woman, but not like Mrs. Fairlie. Ah no, nobody
is like Mrs. Fairlie!"

"Is Mrs. Clements an old friend of yours? Have you known her a long
time?"

"Yes, she was a neighbour of ours once, at home, in Hampshire, and
liked me, and took care of me when I was a little girl. Years ago,
when she went away from us, she wrote down in my Prayer-book for me
where she was going to live in London, and she said, 'If you are ever
in trouble, Anne, come to me. I have no husband alive to say me nay,
and no children to look after, and I will take care of you.' Kind
words, were they not? I suppose I remember them because they were kind.
It's little enough I remember besides--little enough, little enough!"

"Had you no father or mother to take care of you?"

"Father?--I never saw him--I never heard mother speak of him. Father?
Ah, dear! he is dead, I suppose."

"And your mother?"

"I don't get on well with her. We are a trouble and a fear to each
other."

A trouble and a fear to each other! At those words the suspicion
crossed my mind, for the first time, that her mother might be the
person who had placed her under restraint.

"Don't ask me about mother," she went on. "I'd rather talk of Mrs.
Clements. Mrs. Clements is like you, she doesn't think that I ought to
be back in the Asylum, and she is as glad as you are that I escaped
from it. She cried over my misfortune, and said it must be kept secret
from everybody."

Her "misfortune." In what sense was she using that word? In a sense
which might explain her motive in writing the anonymous letter? In a
sense which might show it to be the too common and too customary motive
that has led many a woman to interpose anonymous hindrances to the
marriage of the man who has ruined her? I resolved to attempt the
clearing up of this doubt before more words passed between us on either
side.

"What misfortune?" I asked.

"The misfortune of my being shut up," she answered, with every
appearance of feeling surprised at my question. "What other misfortune
could there be?"

I determined to persist, as delicately and forbearingly as possible.
It was of very great importance that I should be absolutely sure of
every step in the investigation which I now gained in advance.

"There is another misfortune," I said, "to which a woman may be liable,
and by which she may suffer lifelong sorrow and shame."

"W