I answered him—­more because my tongue is a woman’s, and must answer, than because I had anything convincing to say.  It was only too plain that the course Laura had adopted the day before had offered him the advantage if he chose to take it—­and that he had chosen to take it.  I felt this at the time, and I feel it just as strongly now, while I write these lines, in my own room.  The one hope left is that his motives really spring, as he says they do, from the irresistible strength of his attachment to Laura.

Before I close my diary for to-night I must record that I wrote to-day, in poor Hartright’s interest, to two of my mother’s old friends in London—­both men of influence and position.  If they can do anything for him, I am quite sure they will.  Except Laura, I never was more anxious about any one than I am now about Walter.  All that has happened since he left us has only increased my strong regard and sympathy for him.  I hope I am doing right in trying to help him to employment abroad—­I hope, most earnestly and anxiously, that it will end well.

11th.—­Sir Percival had an interview with Mr. Fairlie, and I was sent for to join them.

I found Mr. Fairlie greatly relieved at the prospect of the “family worry” (as he was pleased to describe his niece’s marriage) being settled at last.  So far, I did not feel called on to say anything to him about my own opinion, but when he proceeded, in his most aggravatingly languid manner, to suggest that the time for the marriage had better be settled next, in accordance with Sir Percival’s wishes, I enjoyed the satisfaction of assailing Mr. Fairlie’s nerves with as strong a protest against hurrying Laura’s decision as I could put into words.  Sir Percival immediately assured me that he felt the force of my objection, and begged me to believe that the proposal had not been made in consequence of any interference on his part.  Mr. Fairlie leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, said we both of us did honour to human nature, and then repeated his suggestion as coolly as if neither Sir Percival nor I had said a word in opposition to it.  It ended in my flatly declining to mention the subject to Laura, unless she first approached it of her own accord.  I left the room at once after making that declaration.  Sir Percival looked seriously embarrassed and distressed, Mr. Fairlie stretched out his lazy legs on his velvet footstool, and said, “Dear Marian! how I envy you your robust nervous system!  Don’t bang the door!”

On going to Laura’s room I found that she had asked for me, and that Mrs. Vesey had informed her that I was with Mr. Fairlie.  She inquired at once what I had been wanted for, and I told her all that had passed, without attempting to conceal the vexation and annoyance that I really felt.  Her answer surprised and distressed me inexpressibly—­it was the very last reply that I should have expected her to make.

“My uncle is right,” she said.  “I have caused trouble and anxiety enough to you, and to all about me.  Let me cause no more, Marian—­ let Sir Percival decide.”