A week passed thus, and at the close, Eustace was not only permitted to leave his bed, but was removed during the day to a lower room, opening upon an enclosed court, into which, though still feeble, he was permitted to stroll at his pleasure, undisturbed by the sight or presence of any of the wretched inmates of the establishment. Here his proud form at length one day confronted the doctor; and as he drew near, to inquire after his patient, Eustace thus accosted him:

"Having so far recovered, Doctor, I suppose you will now be so good as to satisfy my mind by answering a few questions I am naturally anxious to put to you. First of all, how long may I have remained in that house before I became conscious of being chained up like a wild beast in his den?"

"My dear Sir, it is our practice never to allow our patients to agitate or excite themselves by any discussion upon the subject of their late illnesses; but I may tell you so far, that you came under my charge here the night before the day from which I may date the period of your convalescence."

"And in what state was I conveyed here? I now seem to have some slight recollection of feeling myself borne along in a carriage; but it is all confused like the rest."

"No doubt, Sir; but your question I must beg to decline answering: it is one of those which are forbidden."

"And by whose authority was I committed to this place, may I be permitted to inquire that?"

The doctor hesitated, but looking on his patient, there was something in his countenance and demeanour which seemed to exert its due weight on one—the secret of whose profession was influence over others, and a thorough knowledge of the workings of the countenances of those with whom they have to deal.

"By the proper authorities in such cases, Sir—the certificates of two medical practitioners and your near relation."

"My father, I conclude?"

"No, Sir; the party who stood forward on this occasion, was your brother."

"My brother!"

Those words were repeated as if with them a weight of lead had fallen on the listener's heart, and stunned it.

Eustace Trevor stood transfixed for a moment, in silent thought; then turning from the doctor's inquisitive gaze, took two or three turns along the grass, with folded arms, and head sunk low upon his bosom.

At last he paused, and stood once more before the doctor, who still remained steadfastly regarding him.

"I suppose, at any rate, that now, Sir, there can be no reason for my remaining any longer under your charge?"

"I hope, indeed, Mr. Trevor, that there may be but a very little time necessary."

"Necessary! No, I should think not. To-night, Sir, it is my wish to leave your establishment."

The doctor smiled soothingly.

"Come, my dear Sir, not quite so fast as all that—you are not quite—quite well yet."

"Quite well, Sir, as far as concerns your branch of the profession; and when I tell you that, it is my firm conviction that I never ought to have been here, and that I shall take care to make this generally known, I think you will see the expediency of making no attempt to detain me, contrary to my inclination."

The doctor again smiled compassionately. When were his unhappy patients ever known to remain, according to their own pleasure, within those walls?

"Very well, Sir—very well; no threats are needed—I only wait your friends' consent."

"My friends!" and there was a mournful intonation on these words. "Well, Sir," with a commanding air, "be so good as to gain that consent as soon as possible—my father's, my brother's, and of one called Mabel Marryott, I conclude. I might not be so inclined to await patiently their decision, were I not unwilling," glancing at the high wall surrounding him, and towards the spot where he knew a keeper, in the absence of the doctor, watched his movements unseen, "to employ that physical force, which I see is expected in this place."

The doctor bowed complacently and withdrew, after stealing a significant look at his attendant minister. But the warning it intended to imply, was not needed. The spirit of Eugene Trevor was bowed down to the very dust with its load of bitterness.

He returned into the house, and remained that evening plunged in a dark dejection, which he felt the necessity of shaking off, lest that horrible thing should indeed creep over his mind, of which he was accused.

The following morning he again made application to Dr. Miller concerning his release, but received only an equivocal reply.

His brother was from home, and the necessary answer was not to be obtained; his father—he was ill, and they feared to bring the subject before him. Eustace reasoned, then commanded as to the expediency of waiving all such forms, and his dismissal being given without further prevarication or delay. This was declined civilly, as to a reasonable being; but still the mind of the unfortunate prisoner was irritated and goaded, by perceiving that every precaution was taken for the security of his person. He was loth to having recourse to any violent attempt to perpetrate his escape; but when one day, after time had gone on, and he plainly saw that some other authority than the doctor's influenced his detention; a feeling almost of real distraction began to take possession of his mind, and he determined that those hated walls should hold him no longer—that like a very madman, if it must be so, he would break his bonds and make the very neighbourhood ring with the wrongs he had received.

Though his noble spirit pined, his physical strength was returning. He often measured with his eye the form of the keeper, who so skilfully managed to dog his steps and movements, and thought how little it would take him, if it ever was needed, to fell that, comparatively speaking, puny form to the ground, or that of any one who attempted to oppose his lawful exit from that house. A providential accident came at length to his aid.

One afternoon, when seated drearily, meditating over his fate, and endeavouring to invent expedients for his immediate emancipation, in the private sitting-room accorded to him, he heard a noise in the passage—a scraping of feet and sounds of horrid laughter. All this had become natural to his ear; but it just occurred to him to look out of the door into the anteroom, where his constant attachÉ was generally in attendance. He was gone. Some peculiar exigency had demanded his immediate services towards the unfortunate, whose voice he had just heard.

A few hasty strides and Eustace was in the outer corridor: it was empty. He stood one second irresolute, which way to turn; then offered up a silent prayer to Heaven and started forward, he knew not whither.