reaction; but he had the justice to add aloud, 'It was I who was the fool
to undertake it. And I think, indeed, it could have been done, but that
circumstances, which neither you nor I had weighed sufficiently, were
against it. She is in a nervous, shaken state, mentally and physically,
and before I had had time to discuss the point at all, she had carried it
on to the personal ground, and the thing was up.'

'She is deeply offended, then?'

'Not at all, in the ordinary sense; she is too fine a creature; but she
talked of the "contempt" that you and I feel for her!'

'Good heavens!' cried Wallace, feeling most unjustly persuaded that his
friend had bungled the matter horribly.

'Yes,' said Kendal deliberately; '"contempt," that was it. I don't know
how it came about. All I know is, that what I said, which seemed to me
very harmless, was like a match to a mine. But she told me to tell you
that she made no further claim on _Elvira_. So the play is safe.'

'D---- the play!' cried Wallace vigorously, a sentiment to which perhaps
Kendal's silence gave consent. 'But I cannot let it rest there. I must
write to her.'

'I don't think I would, if I were you,' said Kendal. 'I should let it
alone. She looks upon the matter as finished. She told me particularly to
tell you that she was _not_ vexed, and you may be quite sure that she
isn't, in any vulgar sense. Perhaps that makes it all the worse. However,
you've a right to know what happened, so I'll tell you, as far as I
remember.'