Cautiously ascending the eminence of the beach, Captain Wragge looked toward Sea-view Cottage before he showed himself on the Parade.  Noel Vanstone had reached home again; he was just entering his own door.

“If all your money was offered me to stand in your shoes,” said the captain, looking after him—­“rich as you are, I wouldn’t take it!”

CHAPTER VIII.

ON returning to the house, Captain Wragge received a significant message from the servant.  “Mr. Noel Vanstone would call again at two o’clock that afternoon, when he hoped to have the pleasure of finding Mr. Bygrave at home.”

The captain’s first inquiry after hearing this message referred to Magdalen.  “Where was Miss Bygrave?” “In her own room.”  “Where was Mrs. Bygrave?” “In the back parlor.”  Captain Wragge turned his steps at once in the latter direction, and found his wife, for the second time, in tears.  She had been sent out of Magdalen’s room for the whole day, and she was at her wits’ end to know what she had done to deserve it.  Shortening her lamentations without ceremony, her husband sent her upstairs on t he spot, with instructions to knock at the door, and to inquire whether Magdalen could give five minutes’ attention to a question of importance which must be settled before two o’clock.

The answer returned was in the negative.  Magdalen requested that the subject on which she was asked to decide might be mentioned to her in writing.  She engaged to reply in the same way, on the understanding that Mrs. Wragge, and not the servant, should be employed to deliver the note and to take back the answer.

Captain Wragge forthwith opened his paper-case and wrote these lines:  “Accept my warmest congratulations on the result of your interview with Mr. N. V. He is coming again at two o’clock—­no doubt to make his proposals in due form.  The question to decide is, whether I shall press him or not on the subject of settlements.  The considerations for your own mind are two in number.  First, whether the said pressure (without at all underrating your influence over him) may not squeeze for a long time before it squeezes money out of Mr. N. V. Secondly, whether we are altogether justified—­considering our present position toward a certain sharp practitioner in petticoats—­in running the risk of delay.  Consider these points, and let me have your decision as soon as convenient.”

The answer returned to this note was written in crooked, blotted characters, strangely unlike Magdalen’s usually firm and clear handwriting.  It only contained these words:  “Give yourself no trouble about settlements.  Leave the use to which he is to put his money for the future in my hands.”

“Did you see her?” asked the captain, when his wife had delivered the answer.

“I tried,” said Mrs. Wragge, with a fresh burst of tears—­“but she only opened the door far enough to put out her hand.  I took and gave it a little squeeze—­and, oh poor soul, it felt so cold in mine!”