"
"You are very excited; and it is my fault. You must be hungry too: you
have come a journey. There will be a reaction, and then you will be
hysterical. Your temperament is of that kind."
He rang a bell and ordered his maid-servant to bring some beef-wafers
and a pint of dry Champagne.
Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be quiet; "for," said he,
"I have a smattering of medicine, as well as of law and of human
nature. Sir Charles must correspond with you. Probably he has already
written you six letters complaining of this monstrous act--a sane man
incarcerated. Well, that class of letter goes into a letter-box in the
hall of an asylum, but it never reaches its address. Please take a pen
and write a formula." He dictated as follows:
"MY DEAR LOVE--The trifling illness I had when I came here is beginning
to give way to the skill and attention of the medical gentlemen here.
They are all most kind and attentive: the place, as it is conducted, is
a credit to the country."
Lady Bassett's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not this rather
artful?"
"And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage the writing of
letters, and then open them, and suppress whatever is disagreeable? May
every man who opens another man's letter find that letter a trap.
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