He rang the bell; the servant came, and showed the way to the street door. Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowed ceremoniously once more to Lady Bassett as she went out. As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was her counselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distracted bullock. “Well, I don't think much of _he,”_ said Mary Wells. Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbed and taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, but was more able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in digesting Rolfe's every word, and fixing his map in her mind, and filling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung her: she gave her companion very short answers, especially when she disparaged Mr. Rolfe. “You couldn't get in a word edgeways,” said Mary Wells. “I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter.” “He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow.” “How _can_ he, and see other men?” “Well. I don't think much of him, for my part.” “I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a silly thing.” “I don't know; that was afore my time” (rather pertly). “Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her.” On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sent directions to the coachman and grooms. At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started for the asylum--coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders. Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two fresh horses having been sent on at night. They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was left ostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many a pale face peeping from the upper windows. The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectful air. “Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?” “No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day.” Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowed to see Mr. Coyne. “Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once,” was the reply. Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people to open the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr. Coyne appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, vulgar face, liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly at sight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses. “Mr. Coyne, I believe,” said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile. “At your service, madam.” “May I have a word in private with you, sir?” “Certainly, madam.” “We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?” “I am afraid,” said the little man, apologetically, “I must ask you to send them to the inn. It is close by.” “By all means.” (To one of the outriders:) “You will wait here for orders.”