said.
'Shall I tell you the fancy that has taken possession of me now? I can't
help thinking that something has happened since we last saw each other
which you have not told me yet.

"'Something _has_ happened,' he answered. 'And it is something which you
ought to know.'

"With those words he took out his pocket-book, and produced two written
papers from it. One he looked at and put back. The other he placed on
the table.

"'Before I tell you what this is, and how it came into my possession,'
he said, 'I must own something that I have concealed from you. It is no
more serious confession than the confession of my own weakness.'

"He then acknowledged to me that the renewal of his friendship with
Armadale had been clouded, through the whole period of their intercourse
in London, by his own superstitious misgivings. He had obeyed the
summons which called him to the rector's bedside, with the firm
intention of confiding his previsions of coming trouble to Mr. Brock;
and he had been doubly confirmed in his superstition when he found that
Death had entered the house before him, and had parted them, in this
world, forever. More than this, he had traveled back to be present at
the funeral, with a secret sense of relief at the prospect of being
parted from Armadale, and with a secret resolution to make the
after-meeting agreed on between us three at Naples a meeting that should
never take place. With that purpose in his heart, he had gone up alone
to the room prepared for him on his arrival at the rectory, and had
opened a letter which he found waiting for him on the table. The letter
had only that day been discovered--dropped and lost--under the bed on
which Mr. Brock had died. It was in the rector's handwriting throughout;
and the person to whom it was addressed was Midwinter himself.

"Having told me this, nearly in the words in which I have written it, he
gave me the written paper that lay on the table between us.

"'Read it,' he said; 'and you will not need to be told that my mind
is at peace again, and that I took Allan's hand at parting with a heart
that was worthier of Allan's love.'

"I read the letter. There was no superstition to be conquered in _my_
mind; there were no old feelings of gratitude toward Armadale to be
roused in _my_ heart; and yet, the effect which the letter had had on
Midwinter was, I firmly believe, more than matched by the effect that
the letter now produced on me.

"It was vain to ask hi