Other things were happening which interfered with the confident calm essential to his comfort.  Since the vexatious little incident at Mrs. Toplady’s, he had not seen Iris Woolstan.  On the eve of his departure for Rivenoak, he wrote to her, a friendly letter in the usual strain, just to acquaint her with his movements, and to this letter there came no reply.  It was unlikely that Iris’s answer had somehow failed to reach hi in; of course she would address to Rivenoak.  No doubt she had discovered his little deception, and took it ill.  Iris was quite absurd enough to feel jealousy, and to show it.  Of all the women he knew, she had the most essentially feminine character.  Fortunately she was as weak as foolish; at any time, he could get the upper hand of her in a private interview.  But his sensibility made him restless in the thought that she was accusing him of ingratitude—­perhaps of behaviour unworthy a gentleman.  Yes, there was the true sting.  Dyce Lashmar prided himself on his intellectual lucidity, but still more on his possession of the instincts, of the mental and moral tone, which are called gentlemanly.  It really hurt him to think that anyone could plausibly assail his claims in this respect.

When he had been a week at Rivenoak, he again wrote to Mrs. Woolstan.  Of her failure to answer his last letter, he said nothing.  She had of course received the Hollingford Express, with the report of his speech on the 20th.  How did she like it?  Could she suggest any improvement?  She knew that he valued her opinion.  “Write,” he concluded, “as soon as you have leisure.  I shall be here, I think, for another week or so.  By the bye, I have taken to cycling, and I fancy it will be physically good for me.”

To this communication, Mrs. Woolstan replied She began with a few formal commendations of his speech.  “You are so kind as to ask if I can suggest any way in which it could have been improved, but of course I know that that is only a polite phrase.  I should not venture to criticise anything of yours now, even if I had the presumption to think that I was capable of saying anything worth your attention.  I am sure you need no advice from me, nor from anyone else, now that you have the advantage of Miss Bride’s counsels.  I regret very much that I have so slight an acquaintance with that lady, but Mrs. Toplady tells me that she is admirably suited to be your companion, and to encourage and help you in your career.  I shall have the pleasure of watching you from a distance, and of sincerely wishing you happiness as well as success.”

The formal style of this letter, so different from Iris’s ordinary effusions, made sufficient proof of the mood in which it was written.  Dyce bit his lips over it.  He had foreseen that Mrs. Woolstan would hear of his engagement, but had hoped it would not be just yet.  There was for the present no help; in her eyes he stood condemned of some thing more than indelicacy.  Fortunately, she was not the kind of woman—­he felt sure—­to be led into any vulgar retaliation.  All he could do was to write a very brief note, in which he expressed a hope of seeing her very soon.  “I shall have much to tell you,” he added, and tried to think that Iris would accept this as a significant promise.