I rested a day at Paris and wrote three letters.

One to Benjamin, telling him to expect me the next evening. One to Mr. Playmore, warning him, in good time, that I meant to make a last effort to penetrate the mystery at Gleninch. One to Eustace (of a few lines only), owning that I had helped to nurse him through the dangerous part of his illness; confessing the one reason which had prevailed with me to leave him; and entreating him to suspend his opinion of me until time had proved that I loved him more dearly than ever. This last letter I inclosed to my mother-in-law, leaving it to her discretion to choose the right time for giving it to her son. I positively forbade Mrs. Macallan, however, to tell Eustace of the new tie between us. Although he had separated himself from me, I was determined that he should not hear it from other lips than mine. Never mind why. There are certain little matters which I must keep to myself; and this is one of them.

My letters being written, my duty was done. I was free to play my last card in the game—the darkly doubtful game which was neither quite for me nor quite against me as the chances now stood.

[ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]

CHAPTER XXXIX. ON THE WAY TO DEXTER.

“I DECLARE to Heaven, Valeria, I believe that monster’s madness is infectious—and you have caught it!”

This was Benjamin’s opinion of me (on my safe arrival at the villa) after I had announced my intention of returning Miserrimus Dexter’s visit, in his company.

Being determined to carry my point, I could afford to try the influence of mild persuasion. I begged my good friend to have a little patience with me. “And do remember what I have already told you,” I added. “It is of serious importance to me to see Dexter again.”

I only heaped fuel on the fire. “See him again?” Benjamin repeated indignantly. “See him, after he grossly insulted you, under my roof, in this very room? I can’t be awake; I must be asleep and dreaming!”

It was wrong of me, I know. But Benjamin’s virtuous indignation was so very virtuous that it let the spirit of mischief loose in me. I really could not resist the temptation to outrage his sense of propriety by taking an audaciously liberal view of the whole matter.