perfect labyrinth of troubles involved in this
proceeding that I determined to feel my ground, as it were. I wrote,
therefore, to dear Marian to beg (as she had no husband to lay claim to
her) that she would come here by herself, first, and talk the matter
over with me. If she could answer my objections to my own perfect
satisfaction, then I assured her that I would receive our sweet Laura
with the greatest pleasure, but not otherwise.

I felt, of course, at the time, that this temporising on my part would
probably end in bringing Marian here in a state of virtuous
indignation, banging doors. But then, the other course of proceeding
might end in bringing Sir Percival here in a state of virtuous
indignation, banging doors also, and of the two indignations and
bangings I preferred Marian's, because I was used to her. Accordingly
I despatched the letter by return of post. It gained me time, at all
events--and, oh dear me! what a point that was to begin with.

When I am totally prostrated (did I mention that I was totally
prostrated by Marian's letter?) it always takes me three days to get up
again. I was very unreasonable--I expected three days of quiet. Of
course I didn't get them.

The third day's post brought me a most impertinent letter from a person
with whom I was totally unacquainted. He described himself as the
acting partner of our man of business--our dear, pig-headed old
Gilmore--and he informed me that he had lately received, by the post, a
letter addressed to him in Miss Halcombe's handwriting. On opening the
envelope, he had discovered, to his astonishment, that it contained
nothing but a blank sheet of note-paper. This circumstance appeared to
him so suspicious (as suggesting to his restless legal mind that the
letter had been tampered with) that he had at once written to Miss
Halcombe, and had received no answer by return of post. In this
difficulty, instead of acting like a sensible man and letting things
take their proper course, his next absurd proceeding, on his own
showing, was to pester me by writing to inquire if I knew anything
about it. What the deuce should I know about it? Why alarm me as well
as himself? I wrote back to that effect. It was one of my keenest
letters. I have produced nothing with a sharper epistolary edge to it
since I tendered his dismissal in writing to that extremely troublesome
person, Mr. Walter Hartright.

My letter produced its effect. I heard nothing mor