her mother told her, or Rachel heard what passed—­I can’t say which.  She took her own romantic, high-flown view of the matter.  I was “heartless”; I was “dishonourable”; I had “no principle”; there was “no knowing what I might do next”—­in short, she said some of the severest things to me which I had ever heard from a young lady’s lips.  The breach between us lasted for the whole of the next day.  The day after, I succeeded in making my peace, and thought no more of it.  Had Rachel reverted to this unlucky accident, at the critical moment when my place in her estimation was again, and far more seriously, assailed?  Mr. Bruff, when I had mentioned the circumstances to him, answered the question at once in the affirmative.

“It would have its effect on her mind,” he said gravely.  “And I wish, for your sake, the thing had not happened.  However, we have discovered that there was a predisposing influence against you—­and there is one uncertainty cleared out of our way, at any rate.  I see nothing more that we can do now.  Our next step in this inquiry must be the step that takes us to Rachel.”

He rose, and began walking thoughtfully up and down the room.  Twice, I was on the point of telling him that I had determined on seeing Rachel personally; and twice, having regard to his age and his character, I hesitated to take him by surprise at an unfavourable moment.

“The grand difficulty is,” he resumed, “how to make her show her whole mind in this matter, without reserve.  Have you any suggestions to offer?”

“I have made up my mind, Mr. Bruff, to speak to Rachel myself.”

“You!” He suddenly stopped in his walk, and looked at me as if he thought I had taken leave of my senses.  “You, of all the people in the world!” He abruptly checked himself, and took another turn in the room.  “Wait a little,” he said.  “In cases of this extraordinary kind, the rash way is sometimes the best way.”  He considered the question for a moment or two, under that new light, and ended boldly by a decision in my favour.  “Nothing venture, nothing have,” the old gentleman resumed.  “You have a chance in your favour which I don’t possess—­and you shall be the first to try the experiment.”

“A chance in my favour?” I repeated, in the greatest surprise.

Mr. Bruff’s face softened, for the first time, into a smile.

“This is how it stands,” he said.  “I tell you fairly, I don’t trust your discretion, and I don’t trust your temper.  But I do trust in Rachel’s still preserving, in some remote little corner of her heart, a certain perverse weakness for you.  Touch that—­and trust to the consequences for the fullest disclosures that can flow from a woman’s lips!  The question is—­how are you to see her?”

“She has been a guest of yours at this house,” I answered.  “May I venture to suggest—­if nothing was said about me beforehand—­that I might see her here?”

“Cool!” said Mr. Bruff.  With that one word of comment on the reply that I had made to him, he took another turn up and down the room.