ARNOLD'S mind was far from easy when he was left by himself againin the smoking-room.

After wasting some time in vainly trying to guess at the sourcefrom which Lady Lundie had derived her information, he put on hishat, and took the direction which led to Blanche's favorite walkat Ham Farm. Without absolutely distrusting her ladyship'sdiscretion, the idea had occurred to him that he would do well tojoin his wife and her step-mother. By making a third at theinterview between them, he might prevent the conversation fromassuming a perilously confidential turn.

The search for the ladies proved useless. They had not taken thedirection in which he supposed them to have gone.

He returned to the smoking-room, and composed himself to wait forevents as patiently as he might. In this passive position--withhis thoughts still running on Lady Lundie--his memory reverted toa brief conversation between Sir Patrick and himself, occasioned,on the previous day, by her ladyship's announcement of herproposed visit to Ham Farm. Sir Patrick had at once expressed hisconviction that his sister-in-law's journey south had someacknowledged purpose at the bottom of it.

"I am not at all sure, Arnold" (he had said), "that I have donewisely in leaving her letter unanswered. And I am stronglydisposed to think that the safest course will be to take her intothe secret when she comes to-morrow. We can't help the positionin which we are placed. It was impossible (without admitting yourwife to our confidence) to prevent Blanche from writing thatunlucky letter to her--and, even if we had prevented it, she musthave heard in other ways of your return to England. I don't doubtmy own discretion, so far; and I don't doubt the convenience ofkeeping her in the dark, as a means of keeping her from meddlingin this business of yours, until I have had time to set it right.But she may, by some unlucky accident, discover the truth forherself--and, in that case, I strongly distrust the influencewhich she might attempt to exercise on Blanche's mind."

Those were the words--and what had happened on the day after theyhad been spoken? Lady Lundie _had_ discovered the truth; and shewas, at that moment, alone somewhere with Blanche. Arnold took uphis hat once more, and set forth on the search for the ladies inanother direction.

The second expedition was as fruitless as the first. Nothing wasto be seen, and nothing was to be heard, of Lady Lundie andBlanche.

Arnold's watch told him that it was not far from the time whenSir Patrick might be expected to return. In all probability,while he had been looking for them, the ladies had gone back bysome other way to the house. He entered the rooms on theground-floor, one after another. They were all empty. He went upstairs, and knocked at the door of Blanche's room. There was noanswer. He opened the door and looked in. The room was empty,like the rooms down stairs. But, close to the entrance, there wasa trifling circumstance to attract notice, in the shape of a notelying on the carpet. He picked it up, and saw that it wasaddressed to him in the handwriting of his wife.

He opened it. The note began, without the usual form of address,in these words:

"I know the abominable secret that you and my uncle have hiddenfrom me. I know _your_ infamy, and _her_ infamy, and the positionin which, thanks to you and to her, I now stand. Reproaches wouldbe wasted words, addressed to such a man as you are. I writethese lines to tell you that I have placed myself under mystep-mother's protection in London. It is useless to attempt tofollow me. Others will find out whether the ceremony of marriagewhich you went through with me is binding on you or not. Formyself, I know enough already. I have gone, never to come back,and never to let you see me again.--Blanche."

Hurrying headlong down the stairs with but one clear idea in hismind--the idea of instantly following his wife--Arnoldencountered Sir Patrick, standing by a table in the hall, onwhich cards and notes left by visitors were usually placed, withan open letter in his hand. Seeing in an instant what hadhappened, he threw one of his arms round Arnold, and stopped himat the house-door.

"You are a man," he said, firmly. "Bear it like a man."

Arnold's head fell on the shoulder of his kind old friend. Heburst into tears.

Sir Patrick let the irrepressible outbreak of grief have its way.In those first moments, silence was mercy. He said nothing. Theletter which he had been reading (from Lady Lundie, it isneedless to say), dropped unheeded at his feet.

Arnold lifted his head, and dashed away the tears.

"I am ashamed of myself," he said. "Let me go."

"Wrong, my poor fellow--doubly wrong!" returned Sir Patrick."There is no shame in shedding such tears as those. And there isnothing to be done by leaving _me._"

"I must and will see her!"

"Read that," said Sir Patrick, pointing to the letter on thefloor. "See your wife? Your wife is with the woman who haswritten those lines. Read them."

Arnold read them.

"DEAR SIR PATRICK,--If you had honored me with your confidence, Ishould have been happy to consult you before I interfered torescue Blanche from the position in which Mr. Brinkworth hasplaced her. As it is, your late brother's child is under myprotection at my house in London. If _you_ attempt to exerciseyour authority, it must be by main force--I will submit tonothing less. If Mr. Brinkworth attempts to exercise _his_authority, he shall establish his right to do so (if he can) in apolice-court.

"Very truly yours, JULIA LUNDIE.

Arnold's resolution was not to be shaken even by this. "What do Icare," he burst out, hotly, "whether I am dragged through thestreets by the police or not! I _will_ see my wife. I _will_clear myself of the horrible suspicion she has about me. You haveshown me your letter. Look at mine!"

Sir Patrick's clear sense saw the wild words that Blanche hadwritten in their true light.

"Do you hold your wife responsible for that letter?" be asked. "Isee her step-mother in every line of it. You descend to somethingunworthy of you, if you seriously defend yourself against _this!_You can't see it? You persist in holding to your own view? Write,then. You can't get to her--your letter may. No! When you leavethis house, you leave it with me. I have conceded something on myside, in allowing you to write. I insist on your concedingsomething, on your side, in return. Come into the library! Ianswer for setting things right between you and Blanche, if youwill place your interests in my hands. Do you trust me or not?"

Arnold yielded. They went into the library together. Sir Patrickpointed to the writing-table. "Relieve your mind there," he said."And let me find you a reasonable man again when I come back."

When he returned to the library the letter was written; andArnold's mind was so far relieved--for the time at least.

"I shall take your letter to Blanche myself," said Sir Patrick,"by the train that leaves for London in half an hour's time."

"You will let me go with you?"

"Not to-day. I shall be back this evening to dinner. You shallhear all that has happened; and you shall accompany me to Londonto-morrow--if I find it necessary to make any lengthened staythere. Between this and then, after the shock that you havesuffered, you will do well to be quiet here. Be satisfied with myassurance that Blanche shall have your letter. I will force myauthority on her step-mother to that extent (if her step-motherresists) without scruple. The respect in which I hold the sexonly lasts as long as the sex deserves it--and does _not_ extendto Lady Lundie. There is no advantage that a man can take of awoman which I am not fully prepared to take of my sister-in-law."

With that characteristic farewell, he shook hands with Arnold,and departed for the station.

At seven o'clock the dinner was on the table. At seven o'clockSir Patrick came down stairs to eat it, as perfectly dressed asusual, and as composed as if nothing had happened.

"She has got your letter," he whispered, as he took Arnold's arm,and led him into the dining-room.

"Did she say any thing?"

"Not a word."

"How did she look?"

"As she ought to look--sorry for what she has done."

The dinner began. As a matter of necessity, the subject of SirPatrick's expedition was dropped while the servants were in theroom--to be regularly taken up again by Arnold in the intervalsbetween the courses. He began when the soup was taken away.

"I confess I had hoped to see Blanche come back with you!" hesaid, sadly enough.

"In other words," returned Sir Patrick, "you forgot the nativeobstinacy of the sex. Blanche is beginning to feel that she hasbeen wrong. What is the necessary consequence? She naturallypersists in being wrong. Let her alone, and leave your letter tohave its effect. The serious difficulties in our way don't restwith Blanche. Content yourself with knowing that."

The fish came in, and Arnold was silenced--until his nextopportunity came with the next interval in the course of thedinner.

"What are the difficulties?" he asked

"The difficulties are my difficulties and yours," answered SirPatrick. "My difficulty is, that I can't assert my authority, asguardian, if I assume my niece (as I do) to be a married woman.Your difficulty is, that you can't assert your authority as herhusband, until it is distinctly proved that you and MissSilvester are not man and wife. Lady Lundie was perfectly awarethat she would place us in that position, when she removedBlanche from this house. She has cross-examined Mrs. Inchbare;she has written to your steward for the date of your arrival atyour estate; she has done every thing, calculated every thing,and foreseen every thing--except my excellent temper. The onemistake she has made, is in thinking she could get the better of_that._ No, my dear boy! My trump card is my temper. I keep it inmy hand, Arnold--I keep it in my hand!"

The next course came in--and there was an end of the subjectagain. Sir Patrick enjoyed his mutton, and entered on a long andinteresting narrative of the history of some rare white Burgundyon the table imported by himself. Arnold resolutely resumed thediscussion with the departure of the mutton.

"It seems to be a dead lock," he said.

"No slang!" retorted Sir Patrick.

"For Heaven's sake, Sir, consider my anxiety, and tell me whatyou propose to do!"

"I propose to take you to London with me to-morrow, on thiscondition--that you promise me, on your word of honor, not toattempt to see your wife before Saturday next."

"I shall see her then?"

"If you give me your promise."

"I do! I do!"

The next course came in. Sir Patrick entered on the question ofthe merits of the partridge, viewed as an eatable bird, "Byhimself, Arnold--plainly roasted, and tested on his ownmerits--an overrated bird. Being too fond of shooting him in thiscountry, we become too fond of eating him next. Properlyunderstood, he is a vehicle for sauce and truffles--nothing more.Or no--that is hardly doing him justice. I am bound to add thathe is honorably associated with the famous French receipt forcooking an olive. Do you know it?"

There was an end of the bird; there was an end of the jelly.Arnold got his next chance--and took it.

"What is to be done in London to-morrow?" he asked.

"To-morrow," answered Sir Patrick, "is a memorable day in ourcalendar. To-morrow is Tuesday--the day on which I am to see MissSilvester."

Arnold set down the glass of wine which he was just raising tohis lips.

"After what has happened," he said, "I can hardly bear to hearher name mentioned. Miss Silvester has parted me from my wife."

"Miss Silvester may atone for that, Arnold, by uniting youagain."

"She has been the ruin of me so far."

"She may be the salvation of you yet."

The cheese came in; and Sir Patrick returned to the Art ofCookery.

"Do you know the receipt for cooking an olive, Arnold?"

"No."

"What _does_ the newgeneration know? It knows how to row, how to shoot, how to playat cricket, and how to bat. When it has lost its muscle and lostits money--that is to say, when it has grown old--what ageneration it will be! It doesn't matter: I sha'n't live to seeit. Are you listening, Arnold?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How to cook an olive! Put an olive into a lark, put a lark intoa quail; put a quail into a plover; put a plover into apartridge; put a partridge into a pheasant; put a pheasant into aturkey. Good. First, partially roast, then carefully stew--untilall is thoroughly done down to the olive. Good again. Next, openthe window. Throw out the turkey, the pheasant, the partridge,the plover, the quail, and the lark. _Then, eat the olive._ Thedish is expensive, but (we have it on the highest authority) wellworth the sacrifice. The quintessence of the flavor of six birds,concentrated in one olive. Grand idea! Try another glass of thewhite Burgundy, Arnold."

At last the servants left them--with the wine and dessert on thetable.

"I have borne it as long as I can, Sir," said Arnold. "Add to allyour kindness to me by telling me at once what happened at LadyLundie's."

It was a chilly evening. A bright wood fire was burning in theroom. Sir Patrick drew his chair to the fire.

"This is exactly what happened," he said. "I found company atLady Lundie's, to begin with. Two perfect strangers to me.Captain Newenden, and his niece, Mrs. Glenarm. Lady Lundieoffered to see me in another room; the two strangers offered towithdraw. I declined both proposals. First check to her ladyship!She has reckoned throughout, Arnold, on our being afraid to facepublic opinion. I showed her at starting that we were as ready toface it as she was. 'I always accept what the French callaccomplished facts,' I said. 'You have brought matters to acrisis, Lady Lundie. So let it be. I have a word to say to myniece (in your presence, if you like); and I have another word tosay to you afterward--without presuming to disturb your guests.'The guests sat down again (both naturally devoured by curiosity).Could her ladyship decently refuse me an interview with my ownniece, while two witnesses were looking on? Impossible. I sawBlanche (Lady Lundie being present, it is needless to say) in theback drawing-room. I gave her your letter; I said a good word foryou; I saw that she was sorry, though she wouldn't own it--andthat was enough. We went back into the front drawing-room. I hadnot spoken five words on our side of the question before itappeared, to my astonishment and delight, that Captain Newendenwas in the house on the very question that had brought me intothe house--the question of you and Miss Silvester. My business,in the interests of _my_ niece, was to deny your marriage to thelady. His business, in the interests of _his_ niece, was toassert your marriage to the lady. To the unutterable disgust ofthe two women, we joined issue, in the most friendly manner, onthe spot. 'Charmed to have the pleasure of meeting you, CaptainNewenden.'--'Delighted to have the honor of making youracquaintance, Sir Patrick.'--'I think we can settle this in twominutes?'--'My own idea perfectly expressed.'--'State yourposition, Captain.'--'With the greatest pleasure. Here is myniece, Mrs. Glenarm, engaged to marry Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn. Allvery well, but there happens to be an obstacle--in the shape of alady. Do I put it plainly?'--'You put it admirably, Captain; butfor the loss to the British navy, you ought to have been alawyer. Pray, go on.'--'You are too good, Sir Patrick. I resume.Mr. Delamayn asserts that this person in the back-ground has noclaim on him, and backs his assertion by declaring that she ismarried already to Mr. Arnold Brinkworth. Lady Lundie and myniece assure me, on evidence which satisfies _them,_ that theassertion is true. The evidence does not satisfy _me._ 'I hope,Sir Patrick, I don't strike you as being an excessively obstinateman?'--'My dear Sir, you impress me with the highest opinion ofyour capacity for sifting human testimony! May I ask, next, whatcourse you mean to take?'--'The very thing I was going tomention, Sir Patrick! This is my course. I refuse to sanction myniece's engagement to Mr. Delamayn, until Mr. Delamayn hasactually proved his statement by appeal to witnesses of thelady's marriage. He refers me to two witnesses; but declinesacting at once in the matter for himself, on the ground that heis in training for a foot-race. I admit that that is an obstacle,and consent to arrange for bringing the two witnesses to Londonmyself. By this post I have written to my lawyers in Perth tolook the witnesses up; to offer them the necessary terms (at Mr.Delamayn's expense) for the use of their time; and to producethem by the end of the week. The footrace is on Thursday next.Mr. Delamayn will be able to attend after that, and establish hisown assertion by his own witnesses. What do you say, Sir Patrick,to Saturday next (with Lady Lundie's permission) in thisroom?'--There is the substance of the captain's statement. He isas old as I am and is dressed to look like thirty; but a verypleasant fellow for all that. I struck my sister-in-law dumb byaccepting the proposal without a moment's hesitation. Mrs.Glenarm and Lady Lundie looked at each other in mute amazement.Here was a difference about which two women would have mortallyquarreled; and here were two men settling it in the friendliestpossible manner. I wish you had seen Lady Lundie's face, when Ideclared myself deeply indebted to Captain Newenden for renderingany prolonged interview with her ladyship quite unnecessary.'Thanks to the captain,' I said to her, in the most cordialmanner, 'we have absolutely nothing to discuss. I shall catch thenext train, and set Arnold Brinkworth's mind quite at ease.' Tocome back to serious things, I have engaged to produce you, inthe presence of every body--your wife included--on Saturday next.I put a bold face on it before the others. But I am bound to tell_you_ that it is by no means easy to say--situated as we arenow--what the result of Saturday's inquiry will be. Every thingdepends on the issue of my interview with Miss Silvesterto-morrow. It is no exaggeration to say, Arnold, that your fateis in her hands."

"I wish to heaven I had never set eyes on her!" said Arnold.

"Lay the saddle on the right horse," returned Sir Patrick. "Wishyou had never set eyes on Geoffrey Delamayn."

Arnold hung his head. Sir Patrick's sharp tongue had got thebetter of him once more.