terest in the matter had been aroused by Mr. Wagner in
the last days of his life. Having set forth her plans for the future in
these terms, my aunt appealed to the lawyer to state the expression of
her wishes and intentions, in formal writing, as a preliminary act of
submission towards the governors of the asylum.

"And what did the lawyer say to it?" Fritz inquired, after I had reported
my aunt's proceedings thus far.

"The lawyer declined, Fritz, to comply with her request. He said, 'It
would be inexcusable, even in a man, to run such a risk--I don't believe
there is another woman in England who would think of such a thing.' Those
were his words."

"Did they have any effect on her?"

"Not the least in the world. She apologized for having wasted his
valuable time, and wished him good morning. 'If nobody will help me,' she
said, quietly, 'I must help myself.' Then she turned to me. 'You have
seen how carefully and delicately poor Jack can work,' she said; 'you
have seen him tempted to break out, and yet capable of restraining
himself in my presence. And, more than that, on the one occasion when he
did lose his self-control, you saw how he recovered himself when he was
calmly and kindly reasoned with. Are you content, David, to leave such a
man for the rest of his life to the chains and the whip?' What could I
say? She was too considerate to press me; she only asked me to think of
it. I have been trying to think of it ever since--and the more I try, the
more I dread the consequences if that madman is brought into the house."

Fritz shuddered at the prospect.

"On the day when Jack comes into the house, I shall go out of it," he
said. The social consequences of my aunt's contemplated experiment
suddenly struck him while he spoke. "What will Mrs. Wagner's friends
think?" he asked piteously. "They will refuse to visit her--they will say
she's mad herself."

"Don't let that distress you, gentlemen--I shan't mind what my friends
say of me."

We both started in confusion to our feet. My aunt herself was standing at
the open door of the summer-house with a letter in her hand.

"News from Germany, just come for you, Fritz."

With those words, she handed him the letter, and left us.

We looked at each other thoroughly ashamed of ourselves, if the truth
must be told. Fritz cast an uneasy glance at the letter, and recognized
the handwriting on the address. "From my father!" he said. As he opened
the envelope a second l