Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he could have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But he rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both husband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the delay. Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time. At last a letter came from Gloucester Place. “Will my kind friend now ACT? “Gratefully, “BELLA BASSETT.” Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for Bellevue House. On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of undoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London. The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door. A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of title in Gloucester Place, hard by. “I will come,” said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as soon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each other. “Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady.” Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was opened by the charwoman. He asked her with some doubt if that was the house. The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was from the country, and was looking out for some servants. This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, over the balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's saying it was, begged him to step upstairs at once. He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was all discretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, she would do anything for her dear mistress. Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who could obey orders, was as good as a number, or better. He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at once that the patient was in labor. He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. CHAPTER XXIX. ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, and dine with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments. The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam--a meek, sorrowful patient--an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland. Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite. Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents. “So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?” “The humors of the place, you mean.” “Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected me along with the rest?” “No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His pen failed at you. 'You must come and _see_ the doctor,' he said. So here I am.”