to
make provision for her half-sister, Marian Halcombe. This was the fair
and proper settlement, but Sir Percival's solicitors insisted that the
principal should go to Sir Percival Glyde in the event of his surviving
Lady Glyde and there being no issue. I protested in vain, and this
iniquitous settlement, which placed every farthing of the L20,000 in Sir
Percival's pocket, and prevented Miss Fairlie providing for Miss
Halcombe, was duly signed.

_III.--The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe in a Series of Extracts
from Her Diary_

_Limmeridge House, November 9_. I have secured for poor Walter Hartright
a position as draughtsman on an expedition which is to start immediately
for central South America. Change of scene may really be the salvation
of him at this crisis in his life. To-day poor Laura asked Sir Percival
to release her from the engagement.

"If you still persist in maintaining our engagement," she said, looking
irresistibly beautiful, "I may be your true and faithful wife, Sir
Percival--your loving wife, if I know my own heart, never!"

"I gratefully accept your grace and truth," he said. "The least that
_you_ can offer is more to me than the utmost that I can hope for from
any other woman in the world."

_December_ 19. I received Sir Percival's consent to live with him as
companion to his wife in their new home in Hampshire. I was interested
to discover that Count Fosco, the husband of Laura's Aunt Eleanor, is a
great friend of Sir Percival's.

_December 22_, 11 _o'clock._ It is all over. They are married.

_Black-water Park, Hampshire, June_ 11. Six long months have elapsed
since Laura and I last saw each other. I have just arrived at her new
home. My latest news of Walter Hartright is derived from an American
paper. It describes how the expedition was last seen entering a wild
primeval forest.

_June_ 15. Laura has returned, and I have found her changed. The
old-time freshness and softness have gone. She is, if anything, more
beautiful. She refused to go into details on the subject of her married
life, and the fact that we have this forbidden topic seems to make a
difference to our old relations. Sir Percival made no pretence to be
glad to see me. They brought two guests with them, Count Fosco and his
wife, Laura's aunt. He is immensely fat, with a face like that of the
great Napoleon, and eyes which have an extraordinary power. In spite of
his size, he treads as softly as a cat. His manners a