oor mother and me? Fancy
us holding him tight down in the carriage, and he raving between us,
fit to drive everybody delirious. The very coachman went wrong,
somehow, and we lost our way."

"You don't say so? You are laughing at me. Now, Lucy Snowe--"

"I assure you it is fact--and fact, also, that Dr. Bretton would _not_
stay in the carriage: he broke from us, and _would_ ride outside."

"And afterwards?"

"Afterwards--when he _did_ reach home--the scene transcends
description."

"Oh, but describe it--you know it is such fun!"

"Fun for _you_, Miss Fanshawe? but" (with stern gravity) "you know the
proverb--'What is sport to one may be death to another.'"

"Go on, there's a darling Timon."

"Conscientiously, I cannot, unless you assure me you have some heart."

"I have--such an immensity, you don't know!"

"Good! In that case, you will be able to conceive Dr. Graham Bretton
rejecting his supper in the first instance--the chicken, the sweetbread
prepared for his refreshment, left on the table untouched. Then----but
it is of no use dwelling at length on the harrowing details. Suffice it
to say, that never, in the most stormy fits and moments of his infancy,
had his mother such work to tuck the sheets about him as she had that
night."

"He wouldn't lie still?"

"He wouldn't lie still: there it was. The sheets might be tucked in,
but the thing was to keep them tucked in."

"And what did he say?"

"Say! Can't you imagine him demanding his divine Ginevra,
anathematizing that demon, de Hamal--raving about golden locks, blue
eyes, white arms, glittering bracelets?"

"No, did he? He saw the bracelet?"

"Saw the bracelet? Yes, as plain as I saw it: and, perhaps, for the
first time, he saw also the brand-mark with which its pressure has
encircled your arm. Ginevra" (rising, and changing my tone), "come, we
will have an end of this. Go away to your practising."

And I opened the door.

"But you have not told me all."

"You had better not wait until I _do_ tell you all. Such extra
communicativeness could give you no pleasure. March!"

"Cross thing!" said she; but she obeyed: and, indeed, the first classe
was my territory, and she could not there legally resist a notice of
quittance from me.

Yet, to speak the truth, never had I been less dissatisfied with her
than I was then. There was pleasure in thinking of the contrast between
the reality and my description--to remember Dr. John enjoying the drive
hom