er 14 ready."

"Why, you don't think that I'm mad!" cried Mrs Forster, with terror.

"So, softly--so--so," said the keeper next to her, patting her, as he
would soothe a fractious child.

The violence of Mrs Forster, when she discovered that she was
considered as a lunatic, fully corroborated to the keepers the assertion
of Mr Ramsden's servant; but we must not dwell upon the scene which
followed. After an ineffectual struggle, Mrs Forster found herself
locked up in Number 14, and left to her own reflections. The previous
scenes which had occurred, added to the treatment which she received in
the asylum, caused such excitement, that, before the next morning, she
was seized with a brain fever, and raved as loudly in her delirium as
any of the other unfortunate inmates there incarcerated.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER NINE.

Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Is not of heaven or earth; for these are pleased;
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased.
SHAKESPEARE.

Mr Ramsden's servant returned to Overton, stating that the doctor was
not at home, but that he had left Mrs Forster and the letter. The time
that Doctor Beddington was to be absent had not been mentioned by the
keepers; and Mr Ramsden, imagining that the doctor had probably gone
out for the evening, made no further inquiries, as he intended, in a day
or two, to call and bring Mrs Forster back to her own house. On the
third day of her removal he set off for the asylum; and when he
discovered the situation of Mrs Forster, he bitterly repented that he
had been persuaded to a step which threatened such serious results. To
remove her was impossible; to assert to the keepers that she was in
sound mind, would have been to commit himself; he therefore withdrew his
letter to Doctor Beddington, who was not expected home for a fortnight,
and with a heavy heart returned to Overton. Miss Dragwell was as much
shocked when she was informed of the unfortunate issue of her plot; and
made a resolution, to which she adhered, never to be guilty of another
practical joke.

In the mean time Newton Forster had made every despatch, and returned to
Overton with the cargo of shingle a few days after his mother's
incarceration. He had not been ten minutes on shore before he was made
acquainted with the melancholy history of her (supposed) madness and
removal to the asylum. He hastened home, where he found his father in a
profound melancholy: he received Newton with