SIR PATRICK made a bad breakfast. Blanche's absence fretted him,and Anne Silvester's letter puzzled him.

He read it, short as it was, a second time, and a third. If itmeant any thing, it meant that the motive at the bottom of Anne'sflight was to accomplish the sacrifice of herself to thehappiness of Blanche. She had parted for life from his niece forhis niece's sake! What did this mean? And how was it to bereconciled with Anne's position--as described to him by Mrs.Inchbare during his visit to Craig Fernie?

All Sir Patrick's ingenuity, and all Sir Patrick's experience,failed to find so much as the shadow of an answer to thatquestion.

While he was still pondering over the letter, Arnold and thesurgeon entered the breakfast-room together.

"Have you heard about Blanche?" asked Arnold, excitedly. "She isin no danger, Sir Patrick--the worst of it is over now."

The surgeon interposed before Sir Patrick could appeal to him.

"Mr. Brinkworth's interest in the young lady a little exaggeratesthe state of the case," he said. "I have seen her, at LadyLundie's request; and I can assure you that there is not theslightest reason for any present alarm. Miss Lundie has had anervous attack, which has yielded to the simplest domesticremedies. The only anxiety you need feel is connected with themanagement of her in the future. She is suffering from somemental distress, which it is not for me, but for her friends, toalleviate and remove. If you can turn her thoughts from thepainful subject--whatever it may be--on which they are dwellingnow, you will do all that needs to be done." He took up anewspaper from the table, and strolled out into the garden,leaving Sir Patrick and Arnold together.

"You heard that?" said Sir Patrick.

"Is he right, do you think?" asked Arnold.

"Right? Do you suppose a man gets _his_ reputation by makingmistakes? You're one of the new generation, Master Arnold. Youcan all of you stare at a famous man; but you haven't an atom ofrespect for his fame. If Shakspeare came to life again, andtalked of playwriting, the first pretentious nobody who satopposite at dinner would differ with him as composedly as hemight differ with you and me. Veneration is dead among us; thepresent age has buried it, without a stone to mark the place. Somuch for that! Let's get back to Blanche. I suppose you can guesswhat the painful subject is that's dwelling on her mind? MissSilvester has baffled me, and baffled the Edinburgh police.Blanche discovered that we had failed last night and Blanchereceived that letter this morning."

He pushed Anne's letter across the breakfast-table.

Arnold read it, and handed it back without a word. Viewed by thenew light in which he saw Geoffrey's character after the quarrelon the heath, the letter conveyed but one conclusion to his mind.Geoffrey had deserted her.

"Well?" said Sir Patrick. "Do you understand what it means?"

"I understand Blanche's wretchedness when she read it."

He said no more than that. It was plain that no information whichhe could afford--even if he had considered himself at liberty togive it--would be of the slightest use in assisting Sir Patrickto trace Miss Silvester, under present circumstances, Therewas--unhappily--no temptation to induce him to break thehonorable silence which he had maintained thus far. And--moreunfortunately still--assuming the temptation to present itself,Arnold's capacity to resist it had never been so strong acapacity as it was now.

To the two powerful motives which had hitherto tied histongue--respect for Anne's reputation, and reluctance to revealto Blanche the deception which he had been compelled to practiceon her at the inn--to these two motives there was now added athird. The meanness of betraying the confidence which Geoffreyhad reposed in him would be doubled meanness if he proved falseto his trust after Geoffrey had personally insulted him. Thepaltry revenge which that false friend had unhesitatinglysuspected him of taking was a revenge of which Arnold's naturewas simply incapable. Never had his lips been more effectuallysealed than at this moment--when his whole future depended on SirPatrick's discovering the part that he had played in past eventsat Craig Fernie.

"Yes! yes!" resumed Sir Patrick, impatiently. "Blanche's distressis intelligible enough. But here is my niece apparentlyanswerable for this unhappy woman's disappearance. Can youexplain what my niece has got to do with it?"

"I! Blanche herself is completely mystified. How should _I_know?"

Answering in those terms, he spoke with perfect sincerity. Anne'svague distrust of the position in which they had innocentlyplaced themselves at the inn had produced no corresponding effecton Arnold at the time. He had not regarded it; he had not evenunderstood it. As a necessary result, not the faintest suspicionof the motive under which Anne was acting existed in his mindnow.

Sir Patrick put the letter into his pocket-book, and abandonedall further attempt at interpreting the meaning of it in despair.

"Enough, and more than enough, of groping in the dark," he said."One point is clear to me after what has happened up stairs thismorning. We must accept the position in which Miss Silvester hasplaced us. I shall give up all further effort to trace her fromthis moment."

"Surely that will be a dreadful disappointment to Blanche, SirPatrick?"

"I don't deny it. We must face that result."

"If you are sure there is nothing else to be done, I suppose wemust."

"I am not sure of any thing of the so rt, Master Arnold! Thereare two chances still left of throwing light on this matter,which are both of them independent of any thing that MissSilvester can do to keep it in the dark."

"Then why not try them, Sir? It seems hard to drop Miss Silvesterwhen she is in trouble."

"We can't help her against her own will," rejoined Sir Patrick."And we can't run the risk, after that nervous attack thismorning, of subjecting Blanche to any further suspense. I havethought of my niece's interests throughout this business; and ifI now change my mind, and decline to agitate her by moreexperiments, ending (quite possibly) in more failures, it isbecause I am thinking of her interests still. I have no othermotive. However numerous my weaknesses may be, ambition todistinguish myself as a detective policeman is not one of them.The case, from the police point of view, is by no means a lostcase. I drop it, nevertheless, for Blanche's sake. Instead ofencouraging her thoughts to dwell on this melancholy business, wemust apply the remedy suggested by our medical friend."

"How is that to be done?" asked Arnold.

The sly twist of humor began to show itself in Sir Patrick'sface.

"Has she nothing to think of in the future, which is a pleasantersubject of reflection than the loss of her friend?" he asked."You are interested, my young gentleman, in the remedy that is tocure Blanche. You are one of the drugs in the moral prescription.Can you guess what it is?"

Arnold started to his feet, and brightened into a new being.

"Perhaps you object to be hurried?" said Sir Patrick.

"Object! If Blanche will only consent, I'll take her to church assoon as she comes down stairs!"

"Thank you!" said Sir Patrick, dryly. "Mr. Arnold Brinkworth, mayyou always be as ready to take Time by the forelock as you arenow! Sit down again; and don't talk nonsense. It is justpossible--if Blanche consents (as you say), and if we can hurrythe lawyers--that you may be married in three weeks' or a month'stime."

"What have the lawyers got to do with it?"

"My good fellow, this is not a marriage in a novel! This is themost unromantic affair of the sort that ever happened. Here are ayoung gentleman and a young lady, both rich people; both wellmatched in birth and character; one of age, and the othermarrying with the full consent and approval of her guardian. Whatis the consequence of this purely prosaic state of things?Lawyers and settlements, of course!"

"Come into the library, Sir Patrick; and I'll soon settle thesettlements! A bit of paper, and a dip of ink. 'I hereby giveevery blessed farthing I have got in the world to my dearBlanche.' Sign that; stick a wafer on at the side; clap yourfinger on the wafer; 'I deliver this as my act and deed;' andthere it is--done!"

"Is it, really? You are a born legislator. You create and codifyyour own system all in a breath. Moses-Justinian-Mahomet, give meyour arm! There is one atom of sense in what you have just said.'Come into the library'--is a suggestion worth attending to. Doyou happen, among your other superfluities, to have such a thingas a lawyer about you?"

"I have got two. One in London, and one in Edinburgh."

"We will take the nearest of the two, because we are in a hurry.Who is the Edinburgh lawyer? Pringle of Pitt Street? Couldn't bea better man. Come and write to him. You have given me yourabstract of a marriage settlement with the brevity of an ancientRoman. I scorn to be outdone by an amateur lawyer. Here is _my_abstract: You are just and generous to Blanche; Blanche is justand generous to you; and you both combine to be just and generoustogether to your children. There is a model settlement! and thereare your instructions to Pringle of Pitt Street! Can you do it byyourself? No; of course you can't. Now don't be slovenly-minded!See the points in their order as they come. You are going to bemarried; you state to whom, you add that I am the lady'sguardian; you give the name and address of my lawyer inEdinburgh; you write your instructions plainly in the fewestwords, and leave details to your legal adviser; you refer thelawyers to each other; you request that the draft settlements beprepared as speedily as possible, and you give your address atthis house. There are the heads. Can't you do it now? Oh, therising generation! Oh, the progress we are making in theseenlightened modern times! There! there! you can marry Blanche,and make her happy, and increase the population--and all withoutknowing how to write the English language. One can only say withthe learned Bevorskius, looking out of his window at theillimitable loves of the sparrows, 'How merciful is Heaven to itscreatures!' Take up the pen. I'll dictate! I'll dictate!"

Sir Patrick read the letter over, approved of it, and saw it safein the box for the post. This done, he peremptorily forbadeArnold to speak to his niece on the subject of the marriagewithout his express permission. "There's somebody else's consentto be got," he said, "besides Blanche's consent and mine."

"Lady Lundie?"

"Lady Lundie. Strictly speaking, I am the only authority. But mysister-in-law is Blanche's step-mother, and she is appointedguardian in the event of my death. She has a right to beconsulted--in courtesy, if not in law. Would you like to do it?"

Arnold's face fell. He looked at Sir Patrick in silent dismay.

"What! you can't even speak to such a perfectly pliable person asLady Lundie? You may have been a very useful fellow at sea. Amore helpless young man I never met with on shore. Get out withyou into the garden among the other sparrows! Somebody mustconfront her ladyship. And if you won't--I must."

He pushed Arnold out of the library, and applied meditatively tothe knob of his cane. His gayety disappeared, now that he wasalone. His experience of Lady Lundie's character told him that,in attempting to win her approval to any scheme for hurryingBlanche's marriage, he was undertaking no easy task. "I suppose,"mused Sir Patrick, thinking of his late brother--"I suppose poorTom had some way of managing her. How did he do it, I wonder? Ifshe had been the wife of a bricklayer, she is the sort of womanwho would have been kept in perfect order by a vigorous andregular application of her husband's fist. But Tom wasn't abricklayer. I wonder how Tom did it?" After a little hardthinking on this point Sir Patrick gave up the problem as beyondhuman solution. "It must be done," he concluded. "And my ownmother-wit must help me to do it."

In that resigned frame of mind he knocked at the door of LadyLundie's boudoir.