“He does, does he?” replied Mrs Forster, catching her breath, and grinding her teeth as she jumped off the bed.

“Now, my dear Mrs Forster, it’s no use minding what they say; all you have to do is to escape as soon as possible; the magistrate’s warrant may arrive this minute, and then it will be too late; so come down at once:—­how lucky that you have escaped! it must be a dreadful thing to be hanged!”

This last remark, always brought forward by Miss Dragwell when she had a point to carry, induced Mrs Forster to hasten downstairs to the post-chaise, which she found already occupied by Mr Ramsden’s servant.  As soon as she entered, it was driven off with speed in the direction already communicated to the post-boy.

We shall leave the town of Overton to recover its quiet,—­for such a bustle had not occurred for many years,—­and Miss Dragwell to exult in the success of her plot, while we follow Mrs Forster to her new quarters.

The chaise rattled on,—­Mr Ramsden’s servant crouching in a corner, as far as possible from Mrs Forster, evidently about as well pleased with his company as one would be in a pitfall with a tiger.  At last it stopped at the door of the lunatic asylum, and the post-boy dismounting from his reeking horses, pulled violently at a large bell, which answered with a most lugubrious tolling, and struck awe into the breast of Mrs Forster.

When the door was opened, Mr Ramsden’s servant alighted, and went in to deliver his letter to the doctor.  The doctor was not at home; he had obtained his furlough of three weeks, and was very busy with his fishing-rod some thirty miles distant; but the keepers were in attendance, and, as Mr Ramsden’s servant stated the insanity of Mrs Forster, and that she had been sent there by his master, they raised no objections to her reception.  In a few minutes the servant reappeared with two keepers, who handed Mrs Forster out of the chaise, and conducted her to a receiving-room, where Mrs Forster waited some minutes in expectation of the appearance of Dr Beddington.  In the meantime, Mr Ramsden’s servant, having no further communication to make, left the letter for Dr Beddington, and returned in the chaise to Overton.

After a quarter of an hour had elapsed, Mrs Forster inquired of one of the keepers who had, much to her annoyance, taken a chair close to her, whether the doctor intended to come.

“He’ll come by-and-bye, good woman.  How do you feel yourself now?”

“Very cold—­very cold, indeed,” replied Mrs Forster, shivering.

“That’s what the poor brutes always complain of—­aren’t it, Jim?” observed another keeper, who had just entered.  “Where be we to stow her?”

“I sent Tom to get No. 14 ready.”

“Why, you don’t think that I’m mad!” cried Mrs Forster, with terror.

“So, softly—­so—­so,” said the keeper next to her, patting her, as he would soothe a fractious child.