“Do I look like a madwoman?” repeated Lady Dudleigh, with a sense of intolerable irritation at this woman's stupidity. “'Deed, then, an' I'm no judge. It's the doctor that decides.” “But what do you say? Come, now.” “Well, then, ye don't look very bad, exceptin' the glare an' glitter of the eyes of ye, an' yer fancies.” “Fanciest? What fancies?” “Why, yer fancies that ye're Lady Dudleigh, an' all that about Sir Lionel.” Lady Dudleigh started to her feet. “What!” she exclaimed. “Why, I am Lady Dudleigh.” “There, there!” said the woman, soothingly; “sure I forgot myself. Sure ye are Lady Dudleigh, or any body else ye like. It's a dreadful inveiglin' way ye have to trap a body the way ye do.” At this Lady Dudleigh was in despair. No further words were of any avail. The woman was determined to humor her, and assented to every thing she said. This treatment was so intolerable that Lady Dudleigh was afraid to say any thing for fear that she would show the excitement of her feelings, and such an exhibition would of course have been considered as a fresh proof of her madness. The woman at length completed her task, and retired. Lady Dudleigh was left alone. She knew it all now. She remembered the letter which Sir Lionel had written. In that he had no doubt arranged this plan with Dr. Morton, and the coach had been ready at the station. But in what part of the country this place was she had no idea, nor could she know whether Dr. Morton was deceived by Sir Lionel, or was his paid employé in this work of villainy. His face did not give her any encouragement to hope for either honesty or mercy from him. It was an appalling situation, and she knew it. All the horrors that she had ever heard of in connection with private asylums occurred to her mind, and deepened the terror that surrounded her. All the other cares of her life--the sorrow of bereavement, the anxiety for the sick, the plans for Frederick Dalton--all these and many others now oppressed her till her brain sank under the crushing weight. A groan of anguish burst from her. “Sir Lionel's mockery will become a reality,” she thought. “I shall go mad!” Meanwhile Sir Lionel had gone away. Leaving Lady Dudleigh in the room, he had gone down stairs, and after a few hurried words with the doctor, he left the house and entered the coach, which drove back to the station. All the way he was in the utmost glee, rubbing his hands, slapping his thighs, chuckling to himself, laughing and cheering.