to make themselves very unpleasant, and Eugene did not feel sure how far this feeling might not carry Claudia’s quick, fiery nature, more especially if she were offered a chance of punishing Eugene by accepting a suitor who was in many ways an object of her admiration and regard, and came to her with an indubitable halo of romance about him.  Eugene felt that his consideration for Stafford might, perhaps, turn out to be more than a graceful tribute to friendship; it might mean a real sacrifice, a sacrifice of immense gravity; and he did what most people would do—­he reconsidered the situation.

The matter was not, to his thinking, complicated by anything approaching to an implied pledge on his part.  Of course Stafford had not looked upon him as a possible rival; his engagement to Kate Bernard had seemed to put him hors de combat.  But he had been equally entitled to regard Stafford as out of the running; for surely Stafford’s vow was as binding as his promise.  They stood on an equality:  neither could reproach the other—­that is to say, each had matter of reproach against the other, but his mouth was closed.  There was then only friendship—­only the old bond that nothing was to come between them.  Did this bond carry with it the obligation of standing on one side in such a case as this?  Moreover, time was precious.  If he failed to seek out Claudia that very day, she, knowing he was at Territon Park, would be justly aggrieved by a new proof of indifference or disrespect.  And yet, if he were to wait for Stafford, that day must go by without his visit.  Eugene had hitherto lived pleasantly by means of never asking too much of himself, and in consequence being always tolerably equal to his own demands upon himself.  Quixotism was not to be expected of him.  A nice observance of honor was as much as he would be likely to attain to; and friendship would be satisfied if he gave the doubtful points against himself.

He sat down after breakfast, and wrote a long letter to Stafford.

After touching very lightly on Stafford’s position, and disclaiming not only any right to judge, but also any inclination to blame, he went on to tell in some detail the change that had occurred in his own situation, avowed his intention of gaining Claudia’s hand if he could, clearly implied his knowledge that Stafford’s heart was set on the same object, and ended with a warm declaration that the rivalry between them did not and should not alter his love, and that, if unsuccessful, he could desire to be beaten by no other man than Stafford.  He added more words of friendship, told Stafford that he should try his luck as soon as might be, and that he had Rickmansworth’s authority to tell him that, if he saw proper to come down for the same purpose, his coming would not be regarded as an intrusion by the master of the house.

Then he went and obtained the authority he had pledged, and sent his servant up to London with the letter, with instructions to deliver it instantly into Stafford’s own hand.  His distrust in the integrity of the postmaster’s daughter in such a matter prevented his sending any further message by the wires than one requesting Stafford to be at home to receive his letter between twelve and one, when his messenger might be expected to arrive.