ertained that every possible
explanation of the circumstances would be readily afforded by Sir
Percival Glyde, having all been fully noticed, as I understand, in the
narrative which precedes this.

On the Saturday Mr. Hartright had left before I got down to breakfast.
Miss Fairlie kept her room all day, and Miss Halcombe appeared to me to
be out of spirits. The house was not what it used to be in the time of
Mr. and Mrs. Philip Fairlie. I took a walk by myself in the forenoon,
and looked about at some of the places which I first saw when I was
staying at Limmeridge to transact family business, more than thirty
years since. They were not what they used to be either.

At two o'clock Mr. Fairlie sent to say he was well enough to see me.
HE had not altered, at any rate, since I first knew him. His talk was
to the same purpose as usual--all about himself and his ailments, his
wonderful coins, and his matchless Rembrandt etchings. The moment I
tried to speak of the business that had brought me to his house, he
shut his eyes and said I "upset" him. I persisted in upsetting him by
returning again and again to the subject. All I could ascertain was
that he looked on his niece's marriage as a settled thing, that her
father had sanctioned it, that he sanctioned it himself, that it was a
desirable marriage, and that he should be personally rejoiced when the
worry of it was over. As to the settlements, if I would consult his
niece, and afterwards dive as deeply as I pleased into my own knowledge
of the family affairs, and get everything ready, and limit his share in
the business, as guardian, to saying Yes, at the right moment--why, of
course he would meet my views, and everybody else's views, with
infinite pleasure. In the meantime, there I saw him, a helpless
sufferer, confined to his room. Did I think he looked as if he wanted
teasing? No. Then why tease him?

I might, perhaps, have been a little astonished at this extraordinary
absence of all self-assertion on Mr. Fairlie's part, in the character
of guardian, if my knowledge of the family affairs had not been
sufficient to remind me that he was a single man, and that he had
nothing more than a life-interest in the Limmeridge property. As
matters stood, therefore, I was neither surprised nor disappointed at
the result of the interview. Mr. Fairlie had simply justified my
expectations--and there was an end of it.

Sunday was a dull day, out of doors and in. A lett