When she had signed and sealed up this brief epistle, a mountain seemed to roll off her shoulders; her head became clear again: she _knew_ that what Philip and her mother would have wished had been done. A special messenger was sent off with it to Ringsford; for although the distance between the two places was only about three miles, the letter would not have been delivered until next day, had it gone by the ordinary post. * * * * * Mr Hadleigh read these few lines without any sign of disappointment. He read them more than once, and found in them something so quietly decisive, that he would have considered it an easier task to conquer Philip in his most obstinate mood, than to move this girl one hair’s-breadth from her resolve. He refolded the paper carefully and placed it in his pocket. Then he rang the bell. ‘Bid Toomey be ready to drive me over to catch the ten o’clock train,’ he said quietly to the servant who answered his summons. ‘A pity, a pity,’ he repeated to himself. ‘Fools both—they will not accept happiness when it is offered them. A pity, a pity.... They will have their way.’ The carriage conveyed him to Dunthorpe Station in good time for the train; and the train being a ‘fast,’ landed him at Liverpool Street Station before eleven o’clock. He walked slowly along Broad Street, a singular contrast to the hurry and bustle of the other passengers. He was not going in the direction of his own offices; and he did not look as if he were going on any particular business anywhere. He had the air of a man who was taking an enforced constitutional, and who by mistake had wandered into the city instead of into the park. He turned into Cornhill, and then into Golden Alley, which must have obtained its name when gold was only known in quartz; for it was a dull, gloomy-looking place, with dust-stained windows and metal plates up the sides of the doorways, so begrimed that it required an effort of the sight to decipher the names on them. But it was quiet and eminently respectable. Standing in Golden Alley, one had the sense of being in the midst of steady-going, long-established firms, who had no need of outward show to attract customers. Mr Hadleigh halted for a moment at one of the doors, and looked at a leaden-like plate, bearing the simple inscription, GRIBBLE & CO. He ascended one flight of stairs, and entered an office in which two clerks were busy at their desks, whilst a youth at another desk near the door was addressing envelopes with the eager rapidity of one who is paid so much per thousand. No one paid any attention to the opening of the door. ‘Is Mr Wrentham in?’ inquired Mr Hadleigh. At the sound of his voice, one of the clerks advanced obsequiously. ‘Yes, sir. He is engaged at present; but I will send in your name.’