“There is,” said Charnock, who hesitated for a few moments. “I want you to go and see Helen Dalton. She's the girl I ought to have married, and doesn't live very far from your friends.”
“Ah!” said Festing with a start. “It was her portrait you meant to burn?”
Charnock gave him a sharp glance. “Just so. I imagine I did burn it, because I couldn't find it afterwards.”
There was silence for a few moments while Festing wondered whether the other suspected him. Bob had an air of frankness, but was sometimes cunning. This, however, was not important, and Festing was strongly moved by the thought that he might see the girl.
“Why do you want me to go?” he asked.
“In order that you can tell her how I was situated. I want her to know why I was forced to give her up.”
“But you have written and stated your reasons.”
“Of course. But I've no talent for explanation, and in a letter you say too little or too much; probably I didn't say enough. Then you can't tell how far the person written to will understand, and questions rise. But will you go?”
Festing wanted to go, although he saw his task might be embarrassing. He had been some time in Western Canada, where people are frank and do not shrink from dealing with delicate matters. Then Charnock was his friend.
“It will be an awkward job, but you can indicate the line you think I ought to take.”