’I can state none beyond my own very strong impression that she does not love me well enough to marry me.’

’Then I think that ground is worth nothing at all.  I am tolerably correct in my judgement of people; and if I am not very much deceived in Tina, she looks forward to nothing else but to your being her husband.  Leave me to manage the matter as I think best.  You may rely on me that I shall do no harm to your cause, Maynard.’

Mr. Gilfil, afraid to say more, yet wretched in the prospect of what might result from Sir Christopher’s determination, quitted the library in a state of mingled indignation against Captain Wybrow, and distress for himself and Caterina.  What would she think of him?  She might suppose that he had instigated or sanctioned Sir Christopher’s proceeding.  He should perhaps not have an opportunity of speaking to her on the subject in time; he would write her a note, and carry it up to her room after the dressing-bell had rung.  No; that would agitate her, and unfit her for appearing at dinner, and passing the evening calmly.  He would defer it till bed-time.  After prayers, he contrived to lead her back to the drawing-room, and to put a letter in her hand.  She carried it up to her own room, wondering, and there read,—­

’Dear Caterina, Do not suspect for a moment that anything Sir Christopher may say to you about our marriage has been prompted by me.  I have done all I dare do to dissuade him from urging the subject, and have only been prevented from speaking more strongly by the dread of provoking questions which I could not answer without causing you fresh misery.  I write this, both to prepare you for anything Sir Christopher may say, and to assure you—­but I hope you already believe it—­that your feelings are sacred to me.  I would rather part with the dearest hope of my life than be the means of adding to your trouble.

’It is Captain Wybrow who has prompted Sir Christopher to take up the subject at this moment.  I tell you this, to save you from hearing it suddenly when you are with Sir Christopher.  You see now what sort of stuff that dastard’s heart is made of.  Trust in me always, dearest Caterina, as—­whatever may come—­your faithful friend and brother,

‘Maynard Gilfil.’

Caterina was at first too terribly stung by the words about Captain Wybrow to think of the difficulty which threatened her—­to think either of what Sir Christopher would say to her, or of what she could say in reply.  Bitter sense of injury, fierce resentment, left no room for fear.  With the poisoned garment upon him, the victim writhes under the torture—­he has no thought of the coming death.

Anthony could do this!—­Of this there could be no explanation but the coolest contempt for her feelings, the basest sacrifice of all the consideration and tenderness he owed her to the ease of his position with Miss Assher.  No.  It was worse than that:  it was deliberate, gratuitous cruelty.  He wanted to show her how he despised her; he wanted to make her feel her folly in having ever believed that he loved her.