lf, and congratulated me, on the result of
our interview--he mentioned a great deal more about his sympathies and
mine--he deplored my miserable health--he offered to write me a
prescription--he impressed on me the necessity of not forgetting what
he had said about the importance of light--he accepted my obliging
invitation to rest and lunch--he recommended me to expect Lady Glyde in
two or three days' time--he begged my permission to look forward to our
next meeting, instead of paining himself and paining me, by saying
farewell--he added a great deal more, which, I rejoice to think, I did
not attend to at the time, and do not remember now. I heard his
sympathetic voice travelling away from me by degrees--but, large as he
was, I never heard him. He had the negative merit of being absolutely
noiseless. I don't know when he opened the door, or when he shut it.
I ventured to make use of my eyes again, after an interval of
silence--and he was gone.

I rang for Louis, and retired to my bathroom. Tepid water,
strengthened with aromatic vinegar, for myself, and copious fumigation
for my study, were the obvious precautions to take, and of course I
adopted them. I rejoice to say they proved successful. I enjoyed my
customary siesta. I awoke moist and cool.

My first inquiries were for the Count. Had we really got rid of him?
Yes--he had gone away by the afternoon train. Had he lunched, and if
so, upon what? Entirely upon fruit-tart and cream. What a man! What a
digestion!

Am I expected to say anything more? I believe not. I believe I have
reached the limits assigned to me. The shocking circumstances which
happened at a later period did not, I am thankful to say, happen in my
presence. I do beg and entreat that nobody will be so very unfeeling
as to lay any part of the blame of those circumstances on me. I did
everything for the best. I am not answerable for a deplorable calamity,
which it was quite impossible to foresee. I am shattered by it--I have
suffered under it, as nobody else has suffered. My servant, Louis (who
is really attached to me in his unintelligent way), thinks I shall
never get over it. He sees me dictating at this moment, with my
handkerchief to my eyes. I wish to mention, in justice to myself, that
it was not my fault, and that I am quite exhausted and heartbroken.
Need I say more?

THE STORY CONTINUED BY ELIZA MICHELSON

(Housekeeper at Blackwater Park)

I

I am asked