‘Well, perhaps I was,’ simpered Downe, trying to wear an aspect of being the last man in the world to feel pride. ‘However, she will be likely to find out what ruffles Mrs. Barnet. Perhaps it is some misunderstanding, you know—something that she is too proud to ask you to explain, or some little thing in your conduct that irritates her because she does not fully comprehend you. The truth is, Emily would have been more ready to make advances if she had been quite sure of her fitness for Mrs. Barnet’s society, who has of course been accustomed to London people of good position, which made Emily fearful of intruding.’ Barnet expressed his warmest thanks for the well-intentioned proposition. There was reason in Mrs. Downe’s fear—that he owned. ‘But do let her call,’ he said. ‘There is no woman in England I would so soon trust on such an errand. I am afraid there will not be any brilliant result; still I shall take it as the kindest and nicest thing if she will try it, and not be frightened at a repulse.’ When Barnet and Downe had parted, the former went to the Town Savings-Bank, of which he was a trustee, and endeavoured to forget his troubles in the contemplation of low sums of money, and figures in a network of red and blue lines. He sat and watched the working-people making their deposits, to which at intervals he signed his name. Before he left in the afternoon Downe put his head inside the door. ‘Emily has seen Mrs. Barnet,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘She has got Mrs. Barnet’s promise to take her for a drive down to the shore to-morrow, if it is fine. Good afternoon!’ Barnet shook Downe by the hand without speaking, and Downe went away. CHAPTER IV