"But--there remains Katrine, and Katrine's duty is so much more complicated! She has written, as you prophesied, four separate letters, all well spelt, and punctuated, and admirably composed, the sentences rounded to a marvel, but alas! each separate one said a different thing, and was afterwards torn up for a different reason. "Number one was haughty and firm: firm, without a quaver of doubt. `Miss Beverley was surprised that Captain Blair could suppose for a moment, that etc., etc.. Miss Beverley could certainly not consent to sacrifice the dignity and self-respect so dear to the heart of every true etc.' "So far, so good, but Katrine here came to the conclusion that Miss Beverley was a hopeless prig, and effort number one was destroyed forthwith. Number two was also firm, but more affable in tone. "Miss Beverley had been duly amused by the perusal of Captain Blair's letter. She realised that it had been written on the spur of an impulse, and that he had not intended his suggestion to be taken seriously. She would proceed to banish it from her mind, as she felt sure he would now wish her to do. "Here again Katrine interfered, rated Miss Beverley as a hypocrite, declared that she believed nothing of the sort, and sent the second missive packing after the first. "The third and fourth attempts were destroyed for--er--_other_ reasons! One flies at times from one extreme to another. Here now beginning the fifth. "If you are sure; if you are _quite_ sure that my letters would be a help, I should like to say yes, but conscience pricks.--the Cranford conscience which sees not only straight ahead, but round every conceivable niche and corner. "Take first your own point of view! Suppose a moment that I _did_ write, you might be horribly disappointed with my letters! You have enjoyed my weekly effusions to Dorothea, but you must remember that she and I are the friends of years, who have shared together all the big experiences of our lives, so that we have a thousand mutual links and interests. Also,--and the importance of this there is no denying--we are both women! When writing to Dorothea I can be just as frivolous, as morbid, as unreasonable as I please. She understands; she's been there herself. But no mere man-- "Suppose my letters were insufferably flat and tame, what a position for the Lonely Fellow to find himself bound to reply in kind! He ought seriously to consider this point. "Then there's my own position, and with myself goes irrevocably Martin, my brother. "Am I _quite_ justified in taking up any interest, which must more or less engross my thoughts, and distract them from what is my real life work?