the offended wife's hand; she appealed to the lawyer to reconsider
that side of his theory which reflected harshly on Ferrari.
While she was still speaking, the servant interrupted her by entering
the room with a visiting-card. It was the card of Henry Westwick;
and there was an ominous request written on it in pencil.
'I bring bad news. Let me see you for a minute downstairs.'
Agnes immediately left the room.

Alone with Mrs. Ferrari, Mr. Troy permitted his natural kindness
of heart to show itself on the surface at last. He tried to make
his peace with the courier's wife.

'You have every claim, my good soul, to resent a reflection cast upon
your husband,' he began. 'I may even say that I respect you for speaking
so warmly in his defence. At the same time, remember, that I am bound,
in such a serious matter as this, to tell you what is really in my mind.
I can have no intention of offending you, seeing that I am a total
stranger to you and to Mr. Ferrari. A thousand pounds is a large
sum of money; and a poor man may excusably be tempted by it
to do nothing worse than to keep out of the way for a while.
My only interest, acting on your behalf, is to get at the truth.
If you will give me time, I see no reason to despair of finding your
husband yet.'

Ferrari's wife listened, without being convinced: her narrow little mind,
filled to its extreme capacity by her unfavourable opinion of Mr. Troy,
had no room left for the process of correcting its first impression.
'I am much obliged to you, sir,' was all she said. Her eyes were
more communicative--her eyes added, in their language, 'You may say
what you please; I will never forgive you to my dying day.'