Old Mr. Ablewhite never made his appearance that night.  But I knew the importance which his worldly greed attached to his son’s marriage with Miss Verinder—­and I felt a positive conviction (do what Mr. Godfrey might to prevent it) that we should see him the next day.  With his interference in the matter, the storm on which I had counted would certainly come, and the salutary exhaustion of Rachel’s resisting powers would as certainly follow.  I am not ignorant that old Mr. Ablewhite has the reputation generally (especially among his inferiors) of being a remarkably good-natured man.  According to my observation of him, he deserves his reputation as long as he has his own way, and not a moment longer.

The next day, exactly as I had foreseen, Aunt Ablewhite was as near to being astonished as her nature would permit, by the sudden appearance of her husband.  He had barely been a minute in the house, before he was followed, to my astonishment this time, by an unexpected complication in the shape of Mr. Bruff.

I never remember feeling the presence of the lawyer to be more unwelcome than I felt it at that moment.  He looked ready for anything in the way of an obstructive proceeding—­capable even of keeping the peace with Rachel for one of the combatants!

“This is a pleasant surprise, sir,” said Mr. Ablewhite, addressing himself with his deceptive cordiality to Mr. Bruff.  “When I left your office yesterday, I didn’t expect to have the honour of seeing you at Brighton to-day.”

“I turned over our conversation in my mind, after you had gone,” replied Mr. Bruff.  “And it occurred to me that I might perhaps be of some use on this occasion.  I was just in time to catch the train, and I had no opportunity of discovering the carriage in which you were travelling.”

Having given that explanation, he seated himself by Rachel.  I retired modestly to a corner—­with Miss Jane Ann Stamper on my lap, in case of emergency.  My aunt sat at the window; placidly fanning herself as usual.  Mr. Ablewhite stood up in the middle of the room, with his bald head much pinker than I had ever seen it yet, and addressed himself in the most affectionate manner to his niece.

“Rachel, my dear,” he said, “I have heard some very extraordinary news from Godfrey.  And I am here to inquire about it.  You have a sitting-room of your own in this house.  Will you honour me by showing me the way to it?”

Rachel never moved.  Whether she was determined to bring matters to a crisis, or whether she was prompted by some private sign from Mr. Bruff, is more than I can tell.  She declined doing old Mr. Ablewhite the honour of conducting him into her sitting-room.

“Whatever you wish to say to me,” she answered, “can be said here—­in the presence of my relatives, and in the presence” (she looked at Mr. Bruff) “of my mother’s trusted old friend.”

“Just as you please, my dear,” said the amiable Mr. Ablewhite.  He took a chair.  The rest of them looked at his face—­as if they expected it, after seventy years of worldly training, to speak the truth.  I looked at the top of his bald head; having noticed on other occasions that the temper which was really in him had a habit of registering itself there.