The paper contained not a word from Elfride. It was the deposit-
note for his two hundred pounds. On the back was the form of a
cheque, and this she had filled up with the same sum, payable to
the bearer.
Stephen was confounded. He attempted to divine her motive.
Considering how limited was his knowledge of her later actions, he
guessed rather shrewdly that, between the time of her sending the
note in the morning and the evening's silent refusal of his gift,
something had occurred which had caused a total change in her
attitude towards him.
He knew not what to do. It seemed absurd now to go to her father
next morning, as he had purposed, and ask for an engagement with
her, a possibility impending all the while that Elfride herself
would not be on his side. Only one course recommended itself as
wise. To wait and see what the days would bring forth; to go and
execute his commissions in Birmingham; then to return, learn if
anything had happened, and try what a meeting might do; perhaps
her surprise at his backwardness would bring her forward to show
latent warmth as decidedly as in old times.
This act of patience was in keeping only with the nature of a man
precisely of Stephen's constitution. Nine men out of ten would
perhaps have rushed off, got into her presence, by fair means or
foul, and provoked a catastrophe of some sort. Possibly for the
better, probably for the worse.
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