' Her door was
locked, but Mr. Dean put his shoulder against it. In spite of the
noise, she did not awake--a very few more grains would have killed
her."
"Grains of what?"
"Chloral, Sir Owen. We thought she was dead. Mr. Dean went for the
doctor. He looked very grave when he saw her; I could see he thought
she was dead; but after examining her he said, 'She has a young
heart, and will get over it.'"
"So that is your story, Merat?"
"Yes, Sir Owen, that is the story. There is no doubt about it she
tried to kill herself, the doctor says."
"So, Merat, you think it was for Mr. Dean. Don't you know
mademoiselle has taken a religious turn?"
"I know it, Sir Owen."
And he attributed the present misfortune to Monsignor, who had
destroyed Evelyn's mind with ceremonies and sacraments.
"Good God! these people should be prosecuted." And he railed against
the prelate and against religion, stopping only now and again when
Merat went to her mistress's door, thinking she heard her call. "You
say it was between eleven and twelve she came back?"
"It was after twelve, Sir Owen."
"Now where could she have been all that time, and in the rain,
thinking how she might kill herself?"
"It couldn't have been anything else, Sir Owen.
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