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The thought had not even occurred to him. But here she met with a check. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. He was not able to recognize, as the doctor did, that she was only a natural woman. ‘A devil is just what you are. D.
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