What was the truth of it? It was not possible to believe that the notice to the Consulate was a mere maneuver, a pretense, and a sham. She was neither so cold-blooded nor so foolish as that--and Octon would have ridiculed such a sham out of existence. The notice to the Consulate showed that her long hesitation had at last ended--possibly on Octon's entreaties, though I continued to doubt that--possibly for conscience' sake, possibly from regard for the world's opinion. She had made up her mind to let go her "precarious liberty." But for this stroke of fate she would have become Octon's wife. How did the stroke of fate leave her? Or, rather, leave her fame? Of herself I knew nothing--save that she would be alone. She loved an equipoise. Her fame was balanced in one now. Fillingford and Lady Sarah, Mrs. Jepps and Alison, would think still what they had thought; probably the bulk of opinion would be with them. But we had a case. We could brazen it out. Bertram Ware could still be provisional, Lady Aspenick could use the road through the park--even Eunice might ride with her; and old Mr. Dormer would scarcely strain the proprieties to breaking point if he permitted himself to be accompanied by his wife. The verdict could be "Not Proven." A week later the French authorities forwarded to me a letter from Octon--found on his table at the hotel and written the evening before the meeting: "MY DEAR AUSTIN--I have to fight a fellow to-morrow--a very decent fellow--on the ostensible ground of my having spoken disrespectfully of the Pope, which naturally is not at all the real cause of quarrel. I rather think I shall be killed--first, for the sensible reason that he is angry (I hit him. 'Of course you did,' I hear you say) and a good shot; secondly, because she has at last elected to settle things and that offers a temptation to chance--not such a sensible reason--indeed an utterly nonsensical one, which accordingly entirely convinces me. I leave her to you. Don't try to marry her--it only worries her--but serve her well, and as you serve her, so may God Almighty, in whom I believe though you think I don't, serve you. You couldn't spend your life (you're not a great man, you know) to better account. How I have spent mine doesn't matter. I have on the credit side of the balance the discovery of five new insects. It is to be hoped that this will not be overlooked.--Yours, "L. O." New insects--five! Private faults--how many? What is the Table of Weights? That must be known, to strike the balance of Leonard Octon's life. CHAPTER XVII ONE OF TWO LEGACIES