The inference was too plain to be resisted. Rachel declined to see me.
On my side, I declined to be treated in this way, without making an
attempt, at least, to discover a reason for it. I sent up my name to
Mrs. Merridew, and requested her to favour me with a personal interview
at any hour which it might be most convenient to her to name.
Mrs. Merridew made no difficulty about receiving me at once. I was shown
into a comfortable little sitting-room, and found myself in the presence
of a comfortable little elderly lady. She was so good as to feel great
regret and much surprise, entirely on my account. She was at the same
time, however, not in a position to offer me any explanation, or to
press Rachel on a matter which appeared to relate to a question of
private feeling alone. This was said over and over again, with a polite
patience that nothing could tire; and this was all I gained by applying
to Mrs. Merridew.
My last chance was to write to Rachel. My servant took a letter to her
the next day, with strict instructions to wait for an answer.
The answer came back, literally in one sentence.
"Miss Verinder begs to decline entering into any correspondence with Mr.
Franklin Blake."
Fond as I was of her, I felt indignantly the insult offered to me in
that reply. Mr. Bruff came in to speak to me on business, before I had
recovered possession of myself. I dismissed the business on the spot,
and laid the whole case before him. He proved to be as incapable of
enlightening me as Mrs. Merridew herself. I asked him if any slander had
been spoken of me in Rachel's hearing. Mr. Bruff was not aware of any
slander of which I was the object. Had she referred to me in any way
while she was staying under Mr. Bruff's roof? Never. Had she not so much
as asked, during all my long absence, whether I was living or dead? No
such question had ever passed her lips. I took out of my pocket-book the
letter which poor Lady Verinder had written to me from Frizinghall, on
the day when I left her house in Yorkshire. And I pointed Mr. Bruff's
attention to these two sentences in it: "The valuable assistance which you rendered to the inquiry after the
lost jewel is still an unpardoned offence, in the present dreadful state
of Rachel's mind. Moving blindfold in this matter, you have added to the
burden of anxiety which she has had to bear, by innocently threatening
her secret with discovery through your exertions."
"Is it possible," I asked, "that the feeling towards me which is there
described, is as bitter as ever against me now?"