I thought at the time; I
really did think; you flattered me. But now I begin to wonder at your
discernment, and vanity apart, do honestly believe you spoke the truth.
Did you ever counterfeit extreme ingenuousness and honest indignation?
My dear fellow, you have no conception, if you never did, how faint the
effort makes one.'
Mr Haredale surveyed him with a look of cold contempt. 'You may evade an
explanation, I know,' he said, folding his arms. 'But I must have it. I
can wait.'
'Not at all. Not at all, my good fellow. You shall not wait a moment,'
returned his friend, as he lazily crossed his legs. 'The simplest thing
in the world. It lies in a nutshell. Ned has written her a letter--a
boyish, honest, sentimental composition, which remains as yet in
his desk, because he hasn't had the heart to send it. I have taken a
liberty, for which my parental affection and anxiety are a sufficient
excuse, and possessed myself of the contents. I have described them
to your niece (a most enchanting person, Haredale; quite an angelic
creature), with a little colouring and description adapted to our
purpose. It's done. You may be quite easy. It's all over. Deprived of
their adherents and mediators; her pride and jealousy roused to the
utmost; with nobody to undeceive her, and you to confirm me; you will
find that their intercourse will close with her answer.
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