astonished to hear that she was coming
up to London last week without an escort;
and, of course, went to Paddington to see the
dear old lady—from whom I have expectations
—and her luggage, safe out of the train.
There was no mistaking that bonnet of hers
with the bird of Paradise perched upon the
crown of it, or else I do believe I should not
have recognised her, she looked so pale. A
red-faced and rather slang-looking old gentleman,
who bowed to her as he stepped out of
the same carriage, whispered to me, that he
feared his travelling companion was far from
well.

She was got into a cab quite speechless,
saw her silk umbrella and her last band-box
safely about her, and then, in the act of
feeling for her smelling-bottle, fainted
away. It was a dreadful position for me to
be in while we drove to Southampton Street,
Holborn; and her coming-to was even more
alarming than her going off. At last, when
she was settled in the house and got more
calm, she unbosomed herself as follows:

"Your cousin John is a wicked and
designing fellow, James; but he shall never see
a penny of my money—he has not killed me
yet, I can tell him, and he'll never get another
chance!"

I was pleased to hear all this of John,
who is her only other nephew; but I confined
myself to saying, that I had always expected
it of John.

"He saw me off at Bath, James, and I
don't think he could have harboured the
dreadful thought before we got on the platform.
He was dutiful enough—officious, I
now think—in seeing after my things, and at
last he led me to the carriage in which you
found me, because, he said, there was a person
in it whom I should like to be with—that
very same man you just saw get out at
Paddington. Not till the train was moving
on, and I locked in the place alone with him,
did John put his face in at the window, and
whisper to me, with a look of dreadful malice,
'Aunt, dear, you've got a maniac in the
carriage with you!' I fell back half fainting
into the seat as we left the walls of the station
behind us. The madman had just cast one
of those swift, sly glances—such as they are
all used to give—towards my corner, but he
now seemed to be buried in his newspaper.
It was my belief, James, and is now, that he
was waiting until we got into the tunnel;
my heart beat as hard and fast as the engine
itself puffed and panted—but I made my
preparations for defence. Directly we got into
the dark, I brought my umbrella forward so
as to put it up at the shortest notice, and
made myself ready to scream; moreover,
having read of the power of the human eye
upon these persons, I stared at him hard and
continuously, and to this, in a great measure,
I attribute my safety; for I observed throughout
the journey he would cast down his eyes,
as if cowed, whenever he perceived mine
fixed upon him. Presently he observed, that
the day was likely to turn out fine after all,
which was itself as mad a speech as could be
made, considering that it was raining at that
minute harder than ever; but I said, 'I think
so, too, sir;' for it is always best to agree
with this sort of people, I had been told,
under every circumstance. After a good
deal of conversation, conducted with some
skill on my part, I think, he asked all of a
sudden if I was going to London; to which I
answered that I certainly was; although, of
course, I intended to get out at the very next
place we stopped at sooner than travel another
mile with him. He then said, he was very
glad to hear it, and hoped that no damp and
disagreeable strangers might get into our
carriage on the road. At Swindon I thought
to have escaped, under pretence of getting
refreshment; but, he insisted with great politeness
—which, however, was just of that kind
which might have changed to the wildest
ferocity had I objected—on bringing the
provisions to the carriage door. I was not really
in the least hungry, yet he made me take
oxtail soup, and buns, and a glass of cherry
brandy there and then, and afterwards a
couple of oranges, and I don't know how
many pears, which he produced from his
pockets. He drank such a deal himself, too,
out of a case-bottle, that I was afraid it must
have developed his most frightful symptoms;
once, indeed, after a long draught at it, he
softly though distinctly exclaimed 'hooray!'
but, finding my eye as usual upon him, he
apologised. He offered me his newspaper,
which was that very unladylike one called
Bell's Life, and I dared not refuse to accept it
for the world—ay, and even to read it, too—for
he asked me whether something or other on
greyhound puppies was not a capital article,
and I had to give a most favourable and
detailed opinion on it. At the few stations
we stopped at he made me look out with him
at the window, to give the idea that the
carriage was fully occupied, so that I myself
helped to put aid out of the question. I
really kept him in the most capital humour—
but, O James, at what a trial to my poor
nerves!—and only once ventured to cross
him, when he offered me a drop out of his
bottle, because I looked pale, he said. He was
not angry at my refusal, but finished it
himself instead, wishing me happy returns of the
day, and many of them—though it was not
my birthday, nor anything of the sort. Soon
after that, the dreadful man fell asleep, nor
did he wake again until he arrived at
Paddington, and I saw you."

"Bless me, my dear aunt, what a terrible
adventure! But are you sure the man was
mad after all?"

"Why, I suppose, nephew James, I know
mad people from sane people, and though I
am getting old, I think I've got my hearing.
Didn't I tell you at first what John said when
he put me into that place to be murdered?