The events of the last few months had shaken his nerve, and he was apt at times to give way to despondency.
Mr. Brock did not seem in a hurry to come to his decision. One, two, three days passed before word came to the Manor House. Having implicit faith in the vicar's judgment, Mallow did not urge him at all. He did not even go near the Vicarage, but curbed his impatience and that of Olive as best he could. Virtue was rewarded--if reward it was--for on the fourth day the document was delivered to Miss Bellairs, with a letter from the vicar.
"I send you the history of your father in India," wrote Mr. Brock, "though it is somewhat against my better judgment. I do so, however, as I can guess that your curiosity will allow you no rest. I give you the opportunity of appeasing it. Still, even at this eleventh hour, I would most earnestly advise you to put the enclosed paper in the fire unread. Its perusal can only give you pain, and remove from its pedestal the idol of your youth."
All this, and much more, Mr. Brock wrote, and Mallow read. He was alone with Olive in the library. He looked questioningly at her. She was silent, and for answer placed the document in his hands.
"Am I to read it?" he asked. Olive bent her head. "As you think wise, dear; or shall we burn it, as Mr. Brock advises, unread?"
Olive clasped her hands tightly together. The question was a weighty one. She hesitated. Then she crossed the Rubicon.
"Read," she said, in low tones; "at whatever cost, read."
Mallow silently spread out the paper and began.