I had brought Mrs. Carew's portrait with me, and other things which I thought might be likely to help me in my interview with Mrs. Fortress. I handed her the picture. "A beautiful lady," she said, handing it back to me. "Better than beautiful," I said. "An angel of goodness and charity, beloved by all who have the privilege of knowing her." "Is she happy?" "Very happy. She and her husband are united by the firmest links of love." "That is good news, and I am glad to hear it. Is Mr. Carew happy?" Slight as was the pause before I had made up my mind what reply to give, she took advantage of it. "Then he is not happy?" "I should like to speak openly to you," I said. "It is not out of mere light curiosity that I have sought you." "It is," she said, "entirely at your discretion how you speak to me. You are not here at my bidding." "True," I replied; "and I am entirely at your mercy. You learn from Mr. Carew's letter that I am on terms of confidential friendship with him, and that he places no restraint upon you. There is no person living who is better acquainted than yourself with the particulars of his young life, with its strange surroundings, its isolation, its lack of light. Dominated by such dark influences, it would not have been matter for wonder had Mr. Carew grown into a morose, savage man, believing only in evil, and capable only of it. The contrary is the case. He has faith in goodness; he has won the love of a good woman. His heart is tender, his nature charitable. When, before parting with you, he asked you to enlighten him as to the mystery which reigned in his home, there may have been some valid reason for your refusal--although, even then, as his parents were dead and he was alone in the world, such refusal was capable of a construction more hurtful than the truth might have been." She interrupted me here by saying, "It could not have been." "But," I urged, "might not the truth, painful though it were, have contributed to avert evil consequences?" "To Mr. Carew," she asked, "or to others?" "To others," I replied. "I will wait a little," she said composedly, "before I answer that question. You have more to say." "There can be no valid reason," I continued, "for silence now. Mr. Carew is anxious that you should speak candidly to me. An appeal to your sense of justice would probably weigh with you." "It is not unlikely," she said. "May I ask if you belong to any profession?" "I do not follow any at present," I replied; "but for years I practised as a physician." "In a general way, or as a specialist?" "Chiefly as a specialist. I have written a successful book upon certain forms of insanity, and I have a copy with me. Perhaps you would like to read it." "It would interest me," she said. "If I had been a physician I should have devoted myself to that branch of the profession."