“He do sometimes, miss,” he answered, with an air of superior wisdom. “Other times he carries on awful, smashes the windows, and makes noises and cries to make your blood run cold. That’s how it is, as I’ve heard, with folks that’s not got their proper wits. You’d think they was as wise as you and me, and then something upsets ’em and off they go sudden-like, an’ raises old ’Arry before you can say Jack Robinson.” Chris was cut to the heart. Whether she would have felt quite so much compassion for Mr. Richard if he had been stout, red-faced and stubbly-haired is, unfortunately, open to question. But the idea of this man with the handsome features and the interesting expression passing his life shut up in those lonely rooms, with no society but that of Stelfox the Stolid, shocked her, and made her miserable. She could not realise his condition; could not understand mental deficiency in the owner of a face which seemed to her as intellectual as it was good-looking. In a state of the strongest excitement she turned back again into the shrubbery to try to get one more look at the madman, and discover, if she could, in the placid, grave features some sign of the disorder behind them. A romantic notion had seized her that perhaps the most had not been done that could be done for him, and that she might be the means of inducing Mr. Bradfield to make one last and more successful effort to restore him to reason. And as this thought passed through her mind, the voice of Mr. Bradfield himself calling to her made her start and look round. He was coming out of the orchid house, and he addressed her by name in a tone of surprise and some displeasure. “Miss Christina! Is that you? What are you doing in this part of the world?” “You know you said that I might examine every corner of the place if I liked,” answered Chris, blushing. “But I have never been able to get into this particular corner until to-day.” “Why didn’t you ask me to bring you here? I would have shown you anything you wanted to see, and should have had great pleasure in doing so, as you know,” replied he, still with some stiffness. “As it is, I suppose you have not seen much to interest you? You have not been into any of the houses?” “I haven’t been into any of the houses, but I have seen something to interest me,” answered Chris, with her heart beating fast. She had resolved to be bold, and to carry on her scheme on behalf of Mr. Richard, while excitement gave her courage. Mr. Bradfield raised his eyebrows a little, and Chris looked down, lest she should be frightened by his frowns. “I have seen poor Mr. Richard--at the window,” she answered, drawing her breath quickly, and feeling rather than seeing, that Mr. Bradfield was displeased. “And--and I want to know, Mr. Bradfield, if you will let my mother and me see him, and speak to him?”