leted his letter, he rang for the maid, and gave it to her to
post.

On her way downstairs, she was stopped on the next landing by Mr. Null.
He too had a letter ready: addressed to Doctor Benjulia. The fierce old
nurse followed him out, and said, "Post it instantly!" The civil maid
asked if Miss Carmina was better. "Worse!"--was all the rude foreigner
said. She looked at poor Mr. Null, as if it was his fault.

Left in the retirement of his room, Mr. Le Frank sat at the
writing-table, frowning and biting his nails.

Were these evidences of a troubled mind connected with the infamous
proposal which he had addressed to Mrs. Gallilee? Nothing of the sort!
Having sent away his letter, he was now at leisure to let his personal
anxieties absorb him without restraint. He was thinking of Carmina.
The oftener his efforts were baffled, the more resolute he became to
discover the secret of her behaviour to him. For the hundredth time he
said to himself, "Her devilish malice reviles me behind my back,
and asks me before my face to shake hands and be friends." The more
outrageously unreasonable his suspicions became, under the exasperating
influence of suspense, the more inveterately his vindictive nature held
to its delusion. After meeting her in the hall at Fairfield Gardens,
he really believed Carmina's illness to have been assumed as a means of
keeping out of his way. If a friend had said to him, "But what reason
have you to think so?"--he would have smiled compassionately, and have
given that friend up for a shallow-minded man.

He stole out again, and listened, undetected, at their door. Carmina was
speaking; but the words, in those faint tones, were inaudible. Teresa's
stronger voice easily reached his ears. "My darling, talking is not good
for you. I'll light the night-lamp--try to sleep."

Hearing this, he went back to his bedroom to wait a little. Teresa's
vigilance might relax if Carmina fell asleep. She might go downstairs
for a gossip with the landlady.

After smoking a cigar, he tried again. The lights on the staircase were
now put out: it was eleven o'clock.

She was not asleep: the nurse was reading to her from some devotional
book. He gave it up, for that night. His head ached; the ferment of
his own abominable thoughts had fevered him. A cowardly dread of the
slightest signs of illness was one of his special weaknesses. The whole
day, to-morrow, was before him. He felt his own pulse; and determined,
in justi