“Yes,” said Mr. Oldfield, “he is in the field again. He has been to the Court of Chancery _ex parte,_ and obtained an injunction _ad interim_ to stay waste. Not another tree must be cut down on the estate for the present.” “Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another tree shall be felled on the grounds.” “Of course not. But they will not stop there. If we do not move to dissolve the injunction, I fear they will go on and ask the Court to administer the estate, with a view to all interests concerned, especially those of the heir at law and his son.” “What, while my husband lives?” “If they can prove him dead in law.” “I don't understand you, Mr. Oldfield.” “They have got affidavits of two medical men that he is insane.” Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand to her heart. “And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall of timber as a further proof, and also as a reason why the Court should interfere to protect the heir at law. Their case is well got up and very strong,” said Mr. Oldfield, regretfully. “Well, but you are a lawyer, and you have always beaten them hitherto.” “I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. To be frank, Lady Bassett, I don't see what I can do but watch the case, on the chance of some error or illegality. It is very hard to fight a case when you cannot put your client forward--and I suppose that would not be safe. How unfortunate that you have no children!” “Children! How could they help us?” “What a question! How could Richard Bassett move the Court if he was not the heir at law?” After a long conference Mr. Oldfield returned to town to see what he could do in the way of procrastination, and Lady Bassett promised to leave no stone unturned to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. Oldfield was to write immediately if any fresh step was taken. When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady Bassett pondered every word he had said, and, mild as she was, her rage began to rise against her husband's relentless enemy. Her wits worked, her eyes roved in that peculiar half-savage way I have described. She became intolerably restless; and any one acquainted with her sex might see that some strange conflict was going on in her troubled mind. Every now and then she would come and cling to her husband, and cry over him; and that seemed to still the tumult of her soul a little. She never slept all that night, and next day, clinging in her helpless agony to the nearest branch, she told Mary Wells what Bassett was doing, and said, “What shall I do? He is not mad; but he is in so very precarious a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they will drive him mad indeed.” “My lady,” said Mary Wells, “I can't go from my word. 'Tis no use in making two bites of a cherry. We must cure him: and if we don't, you'll never rue it but once, and that will be all your life.” “I should look on myself with horror afterward were I to deceive him now.”