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Fairlie faintly repeated my last three words, "better be alone," with every appearance of the utmost possible astonishment. I was in no humour for trifling, and I resolved to make him understand what I meant. "Oblige me by giving that man permission to withdraw," I said, pointing to the valet. Mr. Fairlie arched his eyebrows and pursed up his lips in sarcastic surprise. "Man?" he repeated.
His valet stood behind him with a smelling-bottle ready in one hand, and a white handkerchief, saturated with eau-de-Cologne, in the other. I opened the proceedings by publicly appealing to Mr. Fairlie to say whether I appeared there with his authority and under his express sanction. He extended an arm, on either side, to Mr.
"The future may depend," I suggested, "on the use we make of the present. It is not improbable that Anne Catherick may speak more readily and unreservedly to a woman than she has spoken to me. If Miss Fairlie " "Not to be thought of for a moment," interposed Miss Halcombe, in her most decided manner.
"Those days may never return, Miss Fairlie my way of life and yours are very far apart. But if a time should come, when the devotion of my whole heart and soul and strength will give you a moment's happiness, or spare you a moment's sorrow, will you try to remember the poor drawing-master who has taught you? Miss Halcombe has promised to trust me will you promise too?"
Miss Fairlie came in from the garden, and the usual morning greeting passed between us. Her hand struck colder to mine than ever. She did not look at me, and she was very pale. Even Mrs. Vesey noticed it when she entered the room a moment after. "I suppose it is the change in the wind," said the old lady. "The winter is coming ah, my love, the winter is coming soon!"
I feel the strongest possible concern and interest in anything that affects Miss Fairlie's happiness or yours." "I am glad to hear you say so. You are the only person in the house, or out of it, who can advise me. Mr. Fairlie, in his state of health and with his horror of difficulties and mysteries of all kinds, is not to be thought of.
Do you mind touching the bell? In that corner. Yes. Thank you." I rang; and a new servant noiselessly made his appearance a foreigner, with a set smile and perfectly brushed hair a valet every inch of him. "Louis," said Mr. Fairlie, dreamily dusting the tips of his fingers with one of the tiny brushes for the coins, "I made some entries in my tablettes this morning. Find my tablettes.
Fairlie. With difficulty I persuaded her to tell me something of her story. That she had been locked up in an asylum unjustly, it was clear I already knew. She confessed to having written the letter to Laura, but when I mentioned the name of Sir Percival Glyde, she shrieked aloud with terror. It was obvious that it was the baronet who had placed her under restraint.
There is some pleasant correspondence between Irving and Miss Mary Fairlie, a belle of the time, who married the tragedian, Thomas A. Cooper; the "fascinating Fairlie," as Irving calls her, and the Sophie Sparkle of the "Salmagundi."
His father had died a few years after her, either in 1825 or 1826. Sir Percival had been in England, as a young man, once or twice before that period, but his acquaintance with the late Mr. Fairlie did not begin till after the time of his father's death. They soon became very intimate, although Sir Percival was seldom, or never, at Limmeridge House in those days. Mr.
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