“A fiend,” said Fenella softly, bitterly. “But I shall overcome her yet. Give me a paper, a telegram form, ink--I”--excitedly--“I have a friend who will help me. _One_ friend,” she turned and looked piteously at the old man. “I have only one friend in all the world,” said she, “and he--distrusts me.” “You have another,” said the good old doctor stoutly, “in me. And I do not distrust you. Come! come now, my dear. Take courage. Here are pens and paper. Let us telegraph to this distrustful, if useful, friend of yours.” Fenella wrote rapidly, and handed the telegram to the doctor. He read it aloud: “Come to me at once. Great trouble! Make no delay, I implore you?” Having read it, he went back to the address--“Clitheroe Jacynth!” “Jacynth!--a distinguished man. One almost unconquerable, they say now. I congratulate you if you have _him_ on your side.” “Ah! but you forget!” “Tut--when he comes I shall speak to him. I shall dissolve all doubts,” said the little man kindly. “And now to dispatch this at once. I shall take it myself, if you will promise to lie down and try to rest for awhile.” “I promise,” said she meekly, but it was a promise vain indeed. The door once closed behind him, she began her dreadful walk up and down, up and down the room. She felt half mad. Her child--her little one, in that woman’s power. It was noticeable that in this hour all her thoughts went to the child. * * * * * “Hullo, Jacynth! This you? By Jove! what mad haste. Not even a word for an old friend?” “Why, Castleton! What brings you here?” “Folly! Folly only, if it must be told,” said Lord Castleton, dismally. “Sentiment is folly; isn’t it, Jacynth? Yet a sentimental desire to know how the Onslows are going on is driving me back to Guernsey--a spot I quitted a week ago.” “To Guernsey! Why, that is where I am going too. Have you heard anything?” He looked eagerly at his companion. “Do you know anything? I have had a telegram from--from her. Can _you_ explain it?” “A telegram! When?” “A few hours ago. Look here, Castleton. I honestly think you are a friend of Lady Francis Onslow’s--read this.” “I am a friend of both the Onslows,” said Castleton deliberately. He meant what he said. He took the telegram and glanced at it. “Same old game!” said he at last, lifting his brows. “Another quarrel, I suppose. I thought when they came together this time that they meant business, but it seems not. How few married people are suited to each other!” “I never thought much of Onslow,” said Jacynth slowly. “A weak character at all times, I suppose nobody would dispute the fact of his having been unfaithful to his wife?” “With Mme. de Vigny? Pouf! There were faults on both sides.” “On Mme. de Vigny’s and his? Certainly.” “Not at all. On his and Lady Francis’. She certainly led him a life.”