“Why will you meddle?” it asked.  “This is a very dubious matter, and common prudence suggests a little consideration.  It will be far wiser to let Hyde take the first step.  If the letter he has received is so worded, that he knows it is your letter, it is his place to make the transfer—­and he will be sure to do it.  Why should you continue the chase? let the favoured one look after his own affairs—­being a lawyer, you may well tell yourself, that it is not your interest to move the question.”

And he hesitated and then sat down, and as there is wickedness even in hesitating about a wicked act, Rem easily drifted from the negative to the positive of the crime contemplated.

“I had better keep it,” he mused, “and see what will come of the keeping.  All things are fair in love and war”—­a stupid and slanderous assertion, as far as love is concerned, for love that is noble and true, will not justify anything which Christian ethics do not justify.

He suffered in this decision, suffered in his own way quite as much as Hyde did.  Cornelia had been his dream from his youth up, and Hyde had been his aversion from the moment he first saw him.  The words were not to seek with which he expressed himself, and they were such words as do not bear repeating.  But of all revelations, the revelation of grief is the plainest.  He saw clearly in that hour that Cornelia had never loved him, that his hopes had always been vain, and he experienced all the bitterness of being slighted and humbled for an enemy.

After a little while he remembered that Hyde might possibly do the thing which he had resolved not to do.  Involuntarily he did Hyde this justice, and he said to himself, “if there is anything in the letter intended for me, which determines its ownership, Hyde will bring it.  He will understand that I have the answer to his proposal, and demand it from me—­and whether I shall feel in a mood to give it to him, will depend on the manner in which the demand is made.  If he is in one of his lordly ways he will get no satisfaction from me.  I am not apt to give myself, nor anything I have, away; in fact it will be best not to see him—­if he holds a letter of mine he may keep it.  I know its tenor and I am not eager to know the very words in which my lady says ‘No.’  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!” he laughed, “I will go to the Swamp; my scented rival in his perfumed clothing, will hardly wish the smell of the tanning pits to come between him and his gentility.”

The thought of Hyde’s probable visit and this way of escaping it made him laugh again; but it was a laughter that had that something terrible in it which makes the laughter of the insane and drunken and cruel, worse than the bitterest lamentation.  He felt a sudden haste to escape himself, and seizing his hat walked rapidly to his father’s office.  Peter looked up as he entered, and the question in his eyes hardly needed the simple interrogatary—­