"He did. He was for ever meeting me in private, and urging me. I could not go out for a walk, or just cross the garden, or run into the next door, but he would be there. Madame St. Vincent persuaded me. She did not say to me, in words, 'you had better do as he asks you and run away,' but all her counsels tended towards it. She would say to me how happy his wife would be; what a fine position it was for any young lady lucky enough to be chosen by him; and that all the world thought me old enough to marry, though Arnold did not, and for that reason Arnold would do his best to prevent it. And so--and so----" "And so they persuaded you against your better judgment," added Janet pityingly, as Mina broke down in a burst of tears. "There, child, take this, and don't cry your eyes out," interposed Cattledon, bringing in a beaten-up egg. Cattledon was coming out uncommonly strong in the way of compassion, all her tartness gone. She certainly did not look with an eye of favour on elopements; but she was ready to take up Mina's cause against the man who had deceived her. Cattledon hated the Pells: for Cattledon had been done out of fifty pounds at the time of old Pell's failure, money she had rashly entrusted to him. She could not very well afford to lose it, and she had been bitter on the Pells, one and all, ever since. That morning was destined to be one of elucidation. Mr. Tamlyn was in the surgery, saying a last word to Dr. Knox before the latter went out to visit his patients, when Lettice Lane marched in. She looked so fresh and innocent that three parts of Tamlyn's suspicions of her melted away. "Anything amiss at home?" asked he. "No, sir," replied Lettice, "I have only brought this note"--handing one in. "Madame St. Vincent told the butler to bring it; but his pains are worse this morning; and, as I chanced to be coming out at the moment, he asked me to leave it here for him." "Wait an instant," said Mr. Tamlyn, as he opened the note. It contained nothing of consequence. Madame St. Vincent had written to say that Lady Jenkins was pretty well, but had finished her medicine: perhaps Mr. Tamlyn would send her some more. Old Tamlyn's injunction to wait an instant had been given in consequence of a sudden resolution he had then come to (as he phrased it in his mind), to "tackle" Lettice. "Lettice Lane," he began, winking at Dr. Knox, "your mistress's state is giving us concern. She seems to be always sleeping." "She is nearly always dozing off, sir," replied Lettice, her tone and looks open and honest as the day. "Ay. I can't quite come to the bottom of it," returned old Tamlyn, making believe to be confidential. "To me, it looks just as though she took--took opiates." "Opiates, sir?" repeated Lettice, as if she hardly understood the word: while Dr. Knox, behind the desk, was glancing keenly at her from underneath his compressed eyebrows. "Opium. Laudanum."