’Nobody was with him.  Phil told me so.  No one, that is, but a young lieutenant and his own servant.  It was very sad.  He had D.T., and all that sort of thing.’

‘And where was she?’

‘At Jericho, for anything that I know.’

‘Will you find out?’ Then Mr Joseph Green thought for a moment of his capabilities in that line, and having made an engagement to dine with his friend at his club on the evening before Will left London, said at last that he thought he could find out through certain mutual friends who had known the Berdmores in the old days.  ‘But the fact is,’ said the lawyer, ’that the world is so good- natured instead of being ill-natured, as people say that it always forgets those who want to be forgotten.’

We must now go back for a few moments to Captain Aylmer and his affairs.  Having given a full month to the consideration of his position as regarded Miss Amedroz, he made up his mind to two things.  In the first place, he would at once pay over to her the money which was to be hers as her aunt’s legacy, and then he would renew his offer.  To that latter determination he was guided by mixed motives by motives which, when joined together, rarely fail to be operative.  His conscience told him that he ought to do so and then the fact of her having, as it were, taken herself away from him, made him again wish to possess her.  And there was another cause which, perhaps, operated in the same direction.  He had consulted his mother, and she had strongly advised him to have nothing further to do with Miss Amedroz.  Lady Aylmer abused her dead sister heartily for having interfered in the matter, and endeavoured to prove to her son that he was released from his promise by having in fact performed it.  But on this point his conscience interfered backed by his wishes and he made his resolve as has been above stated.  On leaving Mr Green’s chambers he went to his own lodgings, and wrote his letter as follows: 

’Mount Street, December, 186

Dearest Clara,

When you parted from me at Perivale you said certain things about our engagement which I have come to understand better since then, than I did at the time.  It escaped from me that my dear aunt and I had had some conversation about you, and that I had told her what was my intention.  Something was said about a promise, and I think it was that word which made you unhappy.  At such a time as that when I and my aunt were talking together, and when she was, as she well knew, on her deathbed, things will be said which would not be thought of in other circumstances.  I can only assure you now, that the promise I gave her was a promise to do that which I had previously resolved upon doing.  If you can believe what I say on this head, that ought to be sufficient to remove the feeling which induced you to break our engagement.