“Dr. Morton,” said Lady Dudleigh, solemnly, “beware how you detain me. Let me go, or you shall repent it. I don't know what your motive is, but it will be a dangerous thing for you. I am Lady Dudleigh, and if you dare to interfere with my movements you shall suffer.”
“Oh yes, oh yes,” said the doctor. “You are Lady Dudleigh. Oh, of course. And now come, Lady Dudleigh; you shall be treated just like a lady, and have a nice room, and—”
“What do you mean?” cried Lady Dudleigh, indignantly. “This insolence is insufferable.”
“Oh yes,” said the doctor; “it'll be all right, you know. Come, now; go like a good lady to your room.”
“Are you mad?” exclaimed Lady Dudleigh, in amazement.
The doctor smiled and nodded.
“What do you intend to do?” asked Lady Dudleigh, restraining herself with a strong effort.
“Oh, nothing; we shall put you in a nice room, you know—all so pleasant—for you are not very well; and so. Susan, you just take the lady's hand, and, Martha, you take the other, and we'll show her the way to her room.”
At this each of the women seized one of Lady Dudleigh's hands quickly and dextrously, the result of long practice, and then they drew her out of the room. Lady Dudleigh resisted, but her strength was useless. She was dragged along helplessly, while all the time the doctor walked after her, prattling in his usual way about “the nice room,” and how “comfortable” she would find it. At length they reached a room, and she was taken in. One of the women entered with her. Lady Dudleigh looked around, and saw that the walls were bare and whitewashed; the floor was uncarpeted; an iron bedstead and some simple furniture were around her, and a small grated window gave light.
It looked dreary enough, and sufficiently prison-like to appall any one who might be thus suddenly thrust in there. Lady Dudleigh sank into a chair exhausted, and the woman began to make her bed.