And at last she recurred to that matter as to which she had been so anxious when she first opened her lover's letter. It will be remembered how assured she had expressed herself that Mr. Grey would not condescend to object to her travelling with her cousin. He had not so condescended. He had written on the matter with a pleasant joke, like a gentleman as he was, disdaining to allude to the past passages in the life of her whom he loved, abstaining even from expressing anything that might be taken as a permission on his part. There had been in Alice's words, as she told him of their proposed plan, a something that had betrayed a tremor in her thoughts. She had studiously striven so to frame her phrases that her tale might be told as any other simple statement,--as though there had been no trembling in her mind as she wrote. But she had failed, and she knew that she had failed. She had failed; and he had read all her effort and all her failure. She was quite conscious of this; she felt it thoroughly; and she knew that he was noble and a gentleman to the last drop of his blood. And yet--yet--yet there was almost a feeling of disappointment in that he had not written such a letter as Lady Macleod had anticipated.

And at last she reflected on his response to her travelling with her cousin. He had written on the matter with a pleasant joke, like a gentleman, without alluding to the past or implying that she needed his permission. When Alice had told him of their plan, she had tried to make it a simple, ordinary statement; but she knew that she had failed, and that he had read her failure. She was quite conscious of this; and she knew that he was a gentleman to the last drop of his blood. And yet - yet there was almost a feeling of disappointment that he had not written a disapproving letter such as Lady Macleod had anticipated.
