n't make mischief in the
morning? He would have done it no doubt. But even he was silenced (as
Phoebe told me) by the dreadful event that happened in the house on the
same day. My dear Mrs. Woodville! the heat of this room is certainly too
much for you, take my smelling-bottle. Let me open the window."

I was just able to answer, "Pray say nothing! Let me slip out into the
open air!"

I made my way unobserved to the landing, and sat down on the stairs to
compose myself where nobody could see me. In a moment more I felt a hand
laid gently on my shoulder, and discovered good Benjamin looking at
me in dismay. Lady Clarinda had considerately spoken to him, and had
assisted him in quietly making his retreat from the room, while his
host's attention was still absorbed by the music.

"My dear child!" he whispered, "what is the matter?"

"Take me home, and I will tell you," was all that I could say.

CHAPTER XXXII. A SPECIMEN OF MY WISDOM.

THE scene must follow my erratic movements--the scene must close on
London for a while, and open in Edinburgh. Two days had passed since
Major Fitz-David's dinner-party. I was able to breathe again freely,
after the utter destruction of all my plans for the future, and of all
the hopes that I had founded on them. I could now see that I had been
trebly in the wrong--wrong in hastily and cruelly suspecting an innocent
woman; wrong in communicating my suspicions (without an attempt to
verify them previously) to another person; wrong in accepting the
flighty inferences and conclusions of Miserrimus Dexter as if they had
been solid truths. I was so ashamed of my folly, when I thought of the
past--so completely discouraged, so rudely shaken in my confidence
in myself, when I thought of the future, that, for once in a way, I
accepted sensible advice when it was offered to me. "My dear," said good
old Benjamin, after we had thoroughly talked over my discomfiture on
our return from the dinner-party, "judging by what you tell me of him,
I don't fancy Mr. Dexter. Promise me that you will not go back to him
until you have first consulted some person who is fitter to guide you
through this dangerous business than I am."

I gave him my promise, on one condition. "If I fail to find the person,"
I said, "will you undertake to help me?"

Benjamin pledged himself to help me, cheerfully.

The next morning, when I was brushing my hair, and thinking over my
affairs, I called to mind a forgotten res