She left me abruptly, her naturally firm voice faltering as she spoke those last words.  A sensitive, vehement, passionate nature—­ a woman of ten thousand in these trivial, superficial times.  I had known her from her earliest years—­I had seen her tested, as she grew up, in more than one trying family crisis, and my long experience made me attach an importance to her hesitation under the circumstances here detailed, which I should certainly not have felt in the case of another woman.  I could see no cause for any uneasiness or any doubt, but she had made me a little uneasy, and a little doubtful, nevertheless.  In my youth, I should have chafed and fretted under the irritation of my own unreasonable state of mind.  In my age, I knew better, and went out philosophically to walk it off.

II

We all met again at dinner-time.

Sir Percival was in such boisterous high spirits that I hardly recognised him as the same man whose quiet tact, refinement, and good sense had impressed me so strongly at the interview of the morning.  The only trace of his former self that I could detect reappeared, every now and then, in his manner towards Miss Fairlie.  A look or a word from her suspended his loudest laugh, checked his gayest flow of talk, and rendered him all attention to her, and to no one else at table, in an instant.  Although he never openly tried to draw her into the conversation, he never lost the slightest chance she gave him of letting her drift into it by accident, and of saying the words to her, under those favourable circumstances, which a man with less tact and delicacy would have pointedly addressed to her the moment they occurred to him.  Rather to my surprise, Miss Fairlie appeared to be sensible of his attentions without being moved by them.  She was a little confused from time to time when he looked at her, or spoke to her; but she never warmed towards him.  Rank, fortune, good breeding, good looks, the respect of a gentleman, and the devotion of a lover were all humbly placed at her feet, and, so far as appearances went, were all offered in vain.

On the next day, the Tuesday, Sir Percival went in the morning (taking one of the servants with him as a guide) to Todd’s Corner.  His inquiries, as I afterwards heard, led to no results.  On his return he had an interview with Mr. Fairlie, and in the afternoon he and Miss Halcombe rode out together.  Nothing else happened worthy of record.  The evening passed as usual.  There was no change in Sir Percival, and no change in Miss Fairlie.

The Wednesday’s post brought with it an event—­the reply from Mrs. Catherick.  I took a copy of the document, which I have preserved, and which I may as well present in this place.  It ran as follows—­

“Madam,—­I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, inquiring whether my daughter, Anne, was placed under medical superintendence with my knowledge and approval, and whether the share taken in the matter by Sir Percival Glyde was such as to merit the expression of my gratitude towards that gentleman.  Be pleased to accept my answer in the affirmative to both those questions, and believe me to remain, your obedient servant,