I had
left them together--in the long room. They were watched by skilled
attendants, waiting the decision of Dexter's nearest relative (a younger
brother, who lived in the country, and who had been communicated with by
telegraph). It had been found impossible to part the faithful Ariel
from her master without using the bodily restraints adopted in cases of
raging insanity. The doctor and the gardener (both unusually strong men)
had failed to hold the poor creature when they first attempted to remove
her on entering the room. Directly they permitted her to return to her
master the frenzy vanished: she was perfectly quiet and contented so
long as they let her sit at his feet and look at him.

Sad as this was, the report of Miserrimus Dexter's condition was more
melancholy still.

"My patient is in a state of absolute imbecility"--those were the words
in the doctor's letter; and the gardener's simple narrative confirmed
them as the truest words that could have been used. He was utterly
unconscious of poor Ariel's devotion to him--he did not even appear to
know that she was present in the room. For hours together he remained in
a state of utter lethargy in his chair. He showed an animal interest in
his meals, and a greedy animal enjoyment of eating and drinking as much
as he could get--and that was all. "This morning," the honest gardener
said to me at parting, "we thought he seemed to wake up a bit. Looked
about him, you know, and made queer signs with his hands. I couldn't
make out what he meant; no more could the doctor. _She_ knew, poor
thing--She did. Went and got him his harp, and put his hand up to it.
Lord bless you! no use. He couldn't play no more than I can. Twanged
at it anyhow, and grinned and gabbled to himself. No: he'll never come
right again. Any person can see that, without the doctor to help 'em.
Enjoys his meals, as I told you; and that's all. It would be the best
thing that could happen if it would please God to take him. There's no
more to be said. I wish you good-morning, ma'am."

He went away with the tears in his eyes; and he left me, I own it, with
the tears in mine.

An hour later there came some news which revived me. I received a
telegram from Mr. Playmore, expressed in these welcome words: "Obliged
to go to London by to-night's mail train. Expect me to breakfast
to-morrow morning."

The appearance of the lawyer at our breakfast-table duly followed the
appearance of his telegram. His firs