In a moment more, the doctor came in--a brisk, smiling, self-sufficient man--smartly dressed, with a flower in his button-hole. A stifling odor of musk filled the room, as he drew out his handkerchief with a flourish, and wiped his forehead. “Plenty of hard work in my line, just now,” he said. “Hullo, Mrs. Rook! somebody has been allowing you to excite yourself. I heard you, before I opened the door. Have you been encouraging her to talk?” he asked, turning to Emily, and shaking his finger at her with an air of facetious remonstrance. Incapable of answering him; forgetful of the ordinary restraints of social intercourse--with the one doubt that preserved her belief in Mirabel, eager for confirmation--Emily signed to this stranger to follow her into a corner of the room, out of hearing. She made no excuses: she took no notice of his look of surprise. One hope was all she could feel, one word was all she could say, after that second assertion of Mirabel’s guilt. Indicating Mrs. Rook by a glance at the bed, she whispered the word: “Mad?” Flippant and familiar, the doctor imitated her; he too looked at the bed. “No more mad than you are, miss. As I said just now, my patient has been exciting herself; I daresay she has talked a little wildly in consequence. _Hers_ isn’t a brain to give way, I can tell you. But there’s somebody else--” Emily had fled from the room. He had destroyed her last fragment of belief in Mirabel’s innocence. She was on the landing trying to console herself, when the doctor joined her. “Are you acquainted with the gentleman downstairs?” he asked. “What gentleman?” “I haven’t heard his name; he looks like a clergyman. If you know him--” “I do know him. I can’t answer questions! My mind--” “Steady your mind, miss! and take your friend home as soon as you can. _He_ hasn’t got Mrs. Rook’s hard brain; he’s in a state of nervous prostration, which may end badly. Do you know where he lives?” “He is staying with his sister--Mrs. Delvin.” “Mrs. Delvin! she’s a friend and patient of mine. Say I’ll look in to-morrow morning, and see what I can do for her brother. In the meantime, get him to bed, and to rest; and don’t be afraid of giving him brandy.” The doctor returned to the bedroom. Emily heard Mrs. Ellmother’s voice below. “Are you up there, miss?” “Yes.” Mrs. Ellmother ascended the stairs. “It was an evil hour,” she said, “that you insisted on going to this place. Mr. Mirabel--” The sight of Emily’s face suspended the next words on her lips. She took the poor young mistress in her motherly arms. “Oh, my child! what has happened to you?” “Don’t ask me now. Give me your arm--let us go downstairs.” “You won’t be startled when you see Mr. Mirabel--will you, my dear? I wouldn’t let them disturb you; I said nobody should speak to you but myself. The truth is, Mr. Mirabel has had a dreadful fright. What are you looking for?” “Is there a garden here? Any place where we can breathe the fresh air?”