seized upon her. To find her out—an easy
task with the help of Lewis—and to put
myself in some way in communication with
this mad woman, were my next steps. I
contrived to bring my visit to a speedy
conclusion, and left Haddan Lodge with
the cordial invitation of the dowager Mrs.
Haddan, and of Lewis, to return there soon,
and to make a much longer stay.

CHAPTER III.

I DARED not disclose to George or Mrs.
Haddan what I had determined to do. A
great coldness and estrangement arose
between us, for Mrs. Newill wrote to ask me
to go with her to a seaside place in Wales,
and I caught at the invitation eagerly, as
a means of effecting an absence of two or
three months without arousing curiosity or
suspicion. George thought me growing
indifferent to his painful and perplexing
circumstances, and, with man's
irrational jealousy, accused me, again with
man's natural coarseness, of having seen
some one I liked better than him at Mrs.
Newill's, and of being willing to forsake
him. That man can never understand
woman is a self–evident axiom; therefore
I did not attempt to explain myself to
him. I only told him that if he chose he
might write to me in Wales; and I then
made arrangements with Mrs. Newill to
forward his letters to me, and mail my
replies at the town where I was supposed
to be staying with her.

I found the house where Becket was
living situated in a small hamlet, lying on the
outskirts of Epping Forest. It was a large
old building, chiefly of timber, which had
in former days been the country residence
of rich city families. The front towards
the house was pretentious, with half columns
of stone on each side of the door, but a little
board, set up on a pole in the centre of a
bed of standard roses, informed the passers–
by that part of that eligible residence was
to let. The spring was fairly set in, and
the summer season was fast coming on,
when the dwellers in London, weary of its
heat and noise, would seek out shady
country houses like this. I passed the
gate twice, looking up inquisitively to the
windows, and then I walked boldly up to
the door and rang. The servant who
opened to me ushered me at once, upon
hearing my errand, into an apartment furnished
as a dining–room, with that ingenious
disregard to comfort characteristic of rooms to
let. I waited here with some impatience
for the appearance of Mrs. Townshend,
who came in at last, with a recently
arranged dress, and a very clean collar.
She rubbed her large fat hands assiduously
while she talked to me, and measured me
with her small eyes. I wanted two rooms,
I told her, a bed–room and a sitting–room,
which I might keep, should they suit me,
for three months; but I took care to give
her no indication of my circumstances
or position. Should I like to see over
the house, she asked. Certainly, I replied.
Upon that she conducted me to an immense,
dreary, and uncomfortable drawing–room
over the dining–room, with the same kind
of disconsolate air about it; but I said
nothing. Then, with something like an
apology, she showed me a low, narrow
room at the back of the house, with a small
bed–room at the end, separated from it
only by a wooden partition. It had three
windows looking out upon a garden, and I
went at once to one of them. It was the
most completely shut–in plot of ground I
ever saw, with high hedges, and rows of
very tall, thick trees surrounding it on
every side, forming a kind of square against
the sky arching over them. There was
nothing, in fact, to be seen on any hand
except the garden, which was laid out in
regular and large beds, with straight walks
crossing one another at right angles. Yet
in this early spring–time it looked very
pleasant, a hundred times more pleasant
than the dismal rooms within. As I stood
gazing out of the window and deliberating,
a tall, strong, athletic–looking woman
of fifty, with a hard face, a face that
looked set like iron, came out from
among some trees to the left, walking
direct towards the house, so that she just
faced me. She trod vigorously, and held
herself with unusual erectness. There was
an indomitable energy in her carriage, and
in the expression of her powerful features.
Upon her left arm was a small satchel,
which I saw the first instant she appeared,
for there was no attempt to conceal it,
though it was hung well on towards the
bend of the elbow. Her hands were large
and strong, like those of a man, and were
clasped before her with a close grip, which
made me think for the instant, as I often
thought afterwards, how the clutch of those
fingers would feel at my throat. I raised
my hand involuntarily to my neck, and
turned away shuddering.

"You have a lodger already," I said,
wondering if Mrs. Townshend had seen
my agitation.

"Ah, yes! poor thing!" she answered,
"I should not think of concealing it from