Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Vandeleur was ruined, and in Dr. Suaby's asylum, not ten miles from her country-seat. This intelligence touched her. She contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly and spiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and she felt bound to see if nothing could be done for the poor wretch. A timid Christian would have sent some man to do the good work; but this was a lion-like one. So she mounted her horse, and taking only her groom with her, was at Bellevue in no time. She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, sent in her card, and was received at once. “You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur?” The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. “I wish to see him.” “Certainly, madam.--James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, and send Mr. Vandeleur to her.” “He is not violent, is he?” said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate when she saw there was no opposition. “Not at all, madam--the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money about you, it might be as well to confide it to me.” “What, will he rob me?” “Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you out of it.” “No fear of that, sir.” And she followed James. He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the window, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, reading or working in the sun. “Poor things!” she thought; “they are not so very miserable: perhaps God comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching would do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let me; they lean on the arm of flesh.” Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and in came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning smile he had put on for conquest. He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded. At last he burst out, “Somer--Was it me you wished to see?” “Yes,” said she, very kindly. “I came to see you for old acquaintance. You must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married.” By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chair with ingratiating zeal. “Sit down by me,” said she, as if she was petting a child. “Are you sure you remember me?” Says the Courtier, “Who could forget you that had ever had the honor--” Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. “I did not come here for folly,” said she. Then, rather naively, “I begin to doubt your being so very mad.” “Mad? No, of course I am not.” “Then what brings you here?” “Stumped.” “What, have I mistaken the house? Is it a jail?” “Oh, no! I'll tell you. You see I was dipped pretty deep, and duns after me, and the Derby my only chance; so I put the pot on. But a dark horse won: the Jews knew I was done: so now it was a race which should take me. Sloman had seven writs out: I was in a corner. I got a friend that knows every move to sign me into this asylum. They thought it was all up then, and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound.”