‘No,’ was the answer, with a sigh. ‘No, I almost wish I could. I tell you it is not her. You saw it as well as I. That my wife? Maxwell----’ ‘It is all that remains of her,’ said the doctor, sternly. ‘Mind what I say; I must know; no more of this raving. Did you do it? Of course she asked you, poor soul!’ (Here the doctor’s voice wavered as if a gust of wind had blown it about.) ‘She never could endure the thought of pain; she asked you, it was natural: and you gave her--opium?’ ‘Nothing. I dared not,’ he said, with a shiver. ‘I had not the courage. I let her plead; but I had not the courage. What? put her away from me, willingly? how could I do it? Yes; if she had been in a paroxysm; if I had seen her in agony; but she was calm, not suffering, and she asked me to do it in cold blood?’ ‘What then?’ The doctor spoke sternly, keeping the tone of authority to which in his stupefied state poor Beresford appeared to respond. Cara from a corner looked on with wide-open eyes, listening to everything. ‘Nothing more,’ he said, still sighing heavily. ‘It was more than I could bear. I rushed away. I went out to calm myself--to try and think; and I met you, Maxwell; and now----’ He lifted his hands with a shuddering gesture. ‘That is all--that is all! and this desolate place is my--home; and _that_ is--Annie! No, no! Maxwell, some of your doctors--your cruel doctors--have taken her away to try their experiments. Oh, say it is so, and I’ll thank you on my knees!’ ‘Be quiet, Beresford! Try and be a man. Don’t you see what I have got to do? If it was not you it was herself. I don’t blame her, poor soul, poor soul! the thought of all she had to go through made her mad. Be silent, man, I tell you! We must not have her branded with the name of suicide, James,’ cried the doctor, fairly sobbing. ‘Poor girl, poor girl! it is not much wonder if she was afraid; but we must not let them say ill of her now she is gone. I remember her before you married her, a lovely creature; and there she is, lying--but they must not speak ill of her. I’ll say it was---- Yes. if it’s a lie I can’t help that--my conscience will bear it--there must not be talk, and an inquest. Yes, that’s what I’ll say.’ ‘An inquest!’ said the wretched husband, waking up from his stupor with a great cry. ‘I’ll take it upon myself,’ said Maxwell, going to the writing-table. Then he saw Cara leaning out of her chair towards them with great strained wide-open eyes. ‘Cara! have you heard all we were saying?’ ‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand!’ said the child with sudden sobs. ‘What have you done to my mamma?’ The door of the library opened softly, and they all started as if at the approach of a new calamity. ‘If you please, sir,’ said John, addressing Maxwell with natural recognition of the only source of authority, ‘I came to see if you wouldn’t have some dinner--and master----’