r a little while."

I went out. If, as soon as I got into the passage, I could have
transported Mr. Fairlie and Sir Percival Glyde to the uttermost ends of
the earth by lifting one of my fingers, that finger would have been
raised without an instant's hesitation. For once my unhappy temper now
stood my friend. I should have broken down altogether and burst into a
violent fit of crying, if my tears had not been all burnt up in the
heat of my anger. As it was, I dashed into Mr. Fairlie's room--called
to him as harshly as possible, "Laura consents to the
twenty-second"--and dashed out again without waiting for a word of
answer. I banged the door after me, and I hope I shattered Mr.
Fairlie's nervous system for the rest of the day.

28th.--This morning I read poor Hartright's farewell letter over again,
a doubt having crossed my mind since yesterday, whether I am acting
wisely in concealing the fact of his departure from Laura.

On reflection, I still think I am right. The allusions in his letter
to the preparations made for the expedition to Central America, all
show that the leaders of it know it to be dangerous. If the discovery
of this makes me uneasy, what would it make HER? It is bad enough to
feel that his departure has deprived us of the friend of all others to
whose devotion we could trust in the hour of need, if ever that hour
comes and finds us helpless; but it is far worse to know that he has
gone from us to face the perils of a bad climate, a wild country, and a
disturbed population. Surely it would be a cruel candour to tell Laura
this, without a pressing and a positive necessity for it?

I almost doubt whether I ought not to go a step farther, and burn the
letter at once, for fear of its one day falling into wrong hands. It
not only refers to Laura in terms which ought to remain a secret for
ever between the writer and me, but it reiterates his suspicion--so
obstinate, so unaccountable, and so alarming--that he has been secretly
watched since he left Limmeridge. He declares that he saw the faces of
the two strange men who followed him about the streets of London,
watching him among the crowd which gathered at Liverpool to see the
expedition embark, and he positively asserts that he heard the name of
Anne Catherick pronounced behind him as he got into the boat. His own
words are, "These events have a meaning, these events must lead to a
result. The mystery of Anne Catherick is NOT cleared up yet