"I must, and I will," he said firmly. "Now listen to me. My father was not, as I have said, a wealthy man, and on his death I inherited little beyond good principles and good books. The waiting period for financial success was long, but latterly I have made money. I have L7,000 in the bank, and a good income. And my judgment agrees with yours: I must part with my marbles." "Oh, Mr. Derwent," I exclaimed; "think well before you take so serious a step! What is my hasty decision worth? It was given on the spur of the moment: it was the immature judgment of an inexperienced woman!" "It was the spontaneous expression of pure, instinctive truth," he replied. "Yet do not feel any sense of responsibility. I had already reached the same conclusion: you merely confirmed it, and in doing so helped and strengthened me--though the decision set back a hope that had arisen within me." "But, Mr. Derwent"--I was groping around vainly for a loophole of escape--"this Mr. Mainwaring, is he poor? does he need the money? will he use it well?" "What does that matter?" he replied. "His wealth or poverty cannot affect the question of right or wrong. The money is his by right. _I_ robbed him of it by forensic cunning and rhetoric, and I will repay him. As a matter of fact he is fabulously wealthy, and L7,000 is to him a mere drop in an ocean. And he spends his money on horses and dissipation. He is a bigger scoundrel than Lessingham, and that is saying much." "But what a shame, Mr. Derwent! It does not seem right." "It can never be wrong to do right. Besides, I misled you at the outset of our conversation--misled you purposely. I could not change my mind now if I wished to do so, for I posted Mainwaring a cheque for the full amount this morning." I felt ready to cry, but there was as much joy as sorrow in my breast. I believe I smiled, and I held out my hand, which he grasped and retained a moment. At that instant a telegraph boy pushed open the gate and advanced towards me. "Miss Holden?" he inquired. I took the envelope and tore it open. It contained only a brief message: "Zermatt. _July_ 22_nd._ "Please come soon as possible. See Derwent. "EVANS. Hotel Victoria." I burst into tears, and went into the house. CHAPTER XXI AT ZERMATT I cannot truthfully say that sad thoughts were uppermost during the hours that followed. After all, it was my first trip to the Continent, and although I am thirty-six years old, and might be expected to have got over mere juvenile excitements, I confess to a feeling of cheerful anticipation. Of course the squire was always in the background of my thoughts, but I had no sense of apprehension such as sometimes oppresses one before an approaching calamity.