Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently cooled by discovering that Sir Charles had been taken to a mad-house.
Lady Bassett saw and sighed, and said she would take Moss to show her the way.
At eleven o'clock next morning a light carriage and pair came round to the Hall gate, and a large basket, a portmanteau, and a bag were placed on the roof under care of Moss; smaller packages were put inside; and Lady Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black.
They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The lodge-gate was open, to Lady Bassett's surprise, and they drove through some pleasant grounds to a large white house.
The place at first sight had no distinctive character: great ingenuity had been used to secure the inmates without seeming to incarcerate them. There were no bars to the lower front windows, and the side windows, with their defenses, were shrouded by shrubs. The sentinels were out of sight, or employed on some occupation or other, but within call. Some patients were playing at cricket; some ladies looking on; others strolling on the gravel with a nurse, dressed very much like themselves, who did not obtrude her functions unnecessarily. All was apparent indifference, and Argus-eyed vigilance. So much for the surface.
Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked rooms had violent and miserable inmates.
The hall door opened as the carriage drew up; a respectable servant came forward.
Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, “I am come to see my husband, sir.”
The man never moved a muscle, but said, “You must wait, if you please, till I take your card in.”
He soon returned, and said, “Dr. Suaby is not here, but the gentleman in charge will see you.”