hould
make some apology to Mrs. Finn. Each moment of procrastination was
a prick to his conscience. He now therefore dragged out from the
secrecy of some close drawer Mrs. Finn's letter and read it through
to himself once again. Yes--it was true that he had condemned her,
and that he had punished her. Though he had done nothing to her, and
said nothing, and written but very little, still he had punished her
most severely.

She had written as though the matter was almost one of life and death
to her. He could understand that too. His uncle's conduct to this
woman, and his wife's, had created the intimacy which had existed.
Through their efforts she had become almost as one of the family. And
now to be dismissed, like a servant who had misbehaved herself! And
then her arguments in her own defence were all so good,--if only that
which Lady Cantrip had laid down as law was to be held as law. He
was aware now that she had had no knowledge of the matter till his
daughter had told her of the engagement at Matching. Then it was
evident also that she had sent this Tregear to him immediately on her
return to London. And at the end of the letter she accused him of
what she had been pleased to call his usual tenacity in believing ill
of her! He had been obstinate,--too obstinate in this respect, but he
did not love her the better for having told him of it.

At last he did put his apology into words.

MY DEAR MRS. FINN,

I believe I had better acknowledge to you at once that I
have been wrong in my judgment as to your conduct in a
certain matter. You tell me that I owe it to you to make
this acknowledgment,--and I make it. The subject is, as
you may imagine, so painful that I will spare myself, if
possible, any further allusion to it. I believe I did you
a wrong, and therefore I write to ask your pardon.

I should perhaps apologise also for delay in my reply. I
have had much to think of in this matter, and have many
others also on my mind.

Believe me to be,
Yours faithfully,

OMNIUM.

It was very short, and as being short was infinitely less troublesome
at the moment than a fuller epistle; but he was angry with himself,
knowing that it was too short, feeling that it was ungracious. He
should have expressed a hope that he might soon see her again,--only
he had no such wish. There had been times at which he had liked her,
but he knew that he did not like her now. And yet he w