He represented that a lady, calling herself Madame Rochester, had come to him a few weeks before in great distress because one of her daughters had exhibited marked symptoms of insanity. She was on the eve of departing for Rome, where she was to spend the winter—she could not take a crazy girl with her, and she wished to leave her in his care until her return. Her story was so straight and credible—it was so evident from her description of the girl’s condition that she could not be in her right mind, that he had not a suspicion but that everything was as she represented, and so he had consented to receive mademoiselle into his institution, and do what he could for her recovery, during the absence of her friends. She had already improved greatly, he remarked, in conclusion, for when she was brought there, she had been very violent, while of late she had seemed quite docile and more rational, and he had great hopes of her entire recovery. CHAPTER XLI. “MY WIFE, HAVE YOU CEASED TO LOVE ME?” Dr. Winthrop’s lip curled as he listened to Dr. Arnot’s artful story, for he knew well enough that he had colored it to suit himself, and throw all the blame elsewhere. “She was no more insane than you were,” he said sternly, “and you know it—you must have been conscious of the fact the moment you met her, or else you are a fraud, and have no business to pose as a specialist in diseases of the brain. ‘Violent,’ was she when she first came here? Of course, what person with a particle of spirit, would not have been violent upon discovering how she had been trapped into an institution of this kind? No doubt she was very indignant, and demanded to be immediately released, perhaps threatening you with the law, as she had a right to do. There has been some vile plot against her, and since Mrs. Rochester has been associated with it she shall be answerable to me for it; and you, Dr. Arnot, shall not escape an investigation for having lent yourself to it.” “Assuredly, I regret,” the physician began with paling lips at this threat. “I trust monsieur will be merciful, and not injure an unsullied reputation by any insinuations of foul play——” “I shall demand an investigation,” Dr. Winthrop relentlessly returned. “Such outrages must not be allowed to go unpunished. If Mrs. Rochester is alone to blame, then she alone will suffer—censure must fall where it is deserved.” Dr. Arnot cringed and fawned and pleaded. His establishment would suffer—his reputation would be ruined, himself and his family would be beggared, he whined. “Your establishment ought to suffer; your reputation ought to be ruined if you lend yourself to such dastardly plots as the one I have discovered to-day,” Dr. Winthrop retorted with increasing displeasure, for he could not forgive the wickedness that had consigned his darling to a mad-house, even though he could not yet comprehend why it had been done.