Miss Halcombe promised to comply with his request.  He thanked her, nodded pleasantly, and left us, to go and establish himself in his own room.  As he opened the door the cross-grained greyhound poked out her sharp muzzle from under the sofa, and barked and snapped at him.

“A good morning’s work, Miss Halcombe,” I said, as soon as we were alone.  “Here is an anxious day well ended already.”

“Yes,” she answered; “no doubt.  I am very glad your mind is satisfied.”

“My mind!  Surely, with that note in your hand, your mind is at ease too?”

“Oh yes—­how can it be otherwise?  I know the thing could not be,” she went on, speaking more to herself than to me; “but I almost wish Walter Hartright had stayed here long enough to be present at the explanation, and to hear the proposal to me to write this note.”

I was a little surprised—­perhaps a little piqued also—­by these last words.

“Events, it is true, connected Mr. Hartright very remarkably with the affair of the letter,” I said; “and I readily admit that he conducted himself, all things considered, with great delicacy and discretion.  But I am quite at a loss to understand what useful influence his presence could have exercised in relation to the effect of Sir Percival’s statement on your mind or mine.”

“It was only a fancy,” she said absently.  “There is no need to discuss it, Mr. Gilmore.  Your experience ought to be, and is, the best guide I can desire.”

I did not altogether like her thrusting the whole responsibility, in this marked manner, on my shoulders.  If Mr. Fairlie had done it, I should not have been surprised.  But resolute, clear-minded Miss Halcombe was the very last person in the world whom I should have expected to find shrinking from the expression of an opinion of her own.

“If any doubts still trouble you,” I said, “why not mention them to me at once?  Tell me plainly, have you any reason to distrust Sir Percival Glyde?”

“None whatever.”

“Do you see anything improbable, or contradictory, in his explanation?”

“How can I say I do, after the proof he has offered me of the truth of it?  Can there be better testimony in his favour, Mr. Gilmore, than the testimony of the woman’s mother?”

“None better.  If the answer to your note of inquiry proves to be satisfactory, I for one cannot see what more any friend of Sir Percival’s can possibly expect from him.”

“Then we will post the note,” she said, rising to leave the room, “and dismiss all further reference to the subject until the answer arrives.  Don’t attach any weight to my hesitation.  I can give no better reason for it than that I have been over-anxious about Laura lately—­and anxiety, Mr. Gilmore, unsettles the strongest of us.”