rent of your present negotiations, shall you have time to run up
to London? Only this: you will, I trust, not seek to see Natalie, or to
write to her, until we have come to an understanding. Again I thank you
for having spoken to me so early, before any mischief can have been
done. Think over what I have said, my dear friend; and remember, above
all things, where your chief duty lies.

"Yours sincerely, Ferdinand Lind."

* * * * *

He read this letter over two or three times, and the more he read it the
more he was impressed with the vexatious conviction that it would be an
uncommonly difficult thing to answer it. It was so reasonable, so
sensible, so plausible. Then his old suspicions returned. Why was this
man Lind so plausible? If he objected, why did he not say so outright?
All these specious arguments: how was one to turn and twist, evading
some, meeting others; and all the time taking it for granted that the
happiness of two people's lives was to be dependent on such
logic-chopping as could be put down on a sheet of paper?

Then he grew impatient. He would not answer the letter at all. Lind did
not understand. The matter had got far ahead of this clever
argumentation; he would appeal to Natalie herself; it was her "Yes" or
"No" that would be final; not any contest and balancing of words. There
were others he could recall, of more importance to him. He could almost
hear them now in the trembling, low voice: "_I will be your wife, or the
wife of no one. Dear friend, I can say no more._" And again, when she
gave him the forget-me-nots, "_Whatever happens, you will remember that
there was one who at least wished to be worthy of your love._" He could
remember the proud, brave look; again he felt the trembling of the hand
that timidly sought his for an instant; he could almost scent the
white-rose again, and hear the murmur of the people in the corridor. And
this was the woman, into whose eyes he had looked as if they were the
eyes of his wife, who was to be taken away from him by means of a couple
of sheets of note-paper all covered over with little specious
suggestions.

He thrust the letter into a pocket, and hurriedly proceeded with his
dressing, for he had a breakfast appointment. Indeed, before he was
ready, the porter came up and said that a gentleman had called for him,
and was waiting for him in the coffee-room.

"Ask him what he will have for breakfast, and let him