on his account. Therefore I undertook the commission. The young woman’s violence when she came to, after I broke the fact of his departure, was beyond all expectations. She was quite mad, and had to be held by force; or, if she couldn’t have got to a knife, or got to the sea, she’d have beaten her head against the marble floor.”
Miss Dartle, leaning back upon the seat, with a light of exultation in her face, seemed almost to caress the sounds this fellow had uttered.
“But when I came to the second part of what had been entrusted to me,” said Mr. Littimer, rubbing his hands uneasily, “which anybody might have supposed would have been, at all events, appreciated as a kind intention, then the young woman came out in her true colours. A more outrageous person I never did see. Her conduct was surprisingly bad. She had no more gratitude, no more feeling, no more patience, no more reason in her, than a stock or a stone. If I hadn’t been upon my guard, I am convinced she would have had my blood.”
“I think the better of her for it,” said I, indignantly.
Mr. Littimer bent his head, as much as to say, “Indeed, sir? But you’re young!” and resumed his narrative.
“It was necessary, in short, for a time, to take away everything nigh her, that she could do herself, or anybody else, an injury with, and to shut her up close. Notwithstanding which, she got out in the night; forced the lattice of a window, that I had nailed up myself; dropped on a vine that was trailed below; and never has been seen or heard of, to my knowledge, since.”
“She is dead, perhaps,” said Miss Dartle, with a smile, as if she could have spurned the body of the ruined girl.
“She may have drowned herself, miss,” returned Mr. Littimer, catching at an excuse for addressing himself to somebody. “It’s very