l. She is driving him to it, intentionally or not.'

Mrs. Devereux doubted that the countess could have so false an idea of
her husband's character as to think it possible he would ever be bent
to humble himself to the man he had castigated. She was right. It was
by honestly presenting to his mind something more loathsome still, the
humbling of herself, that Rosamund succeeded in awakening some remote
thoughts of a compromise, in case of necessity. Better I than she!

But the necessity was inconceivable.

He had really done everything required of him, if anything was really
required, by speaking to Shrapnel civilly. He had spoken to Shrapnel
twice.

Besides, the castle was being gladdened by happier tidings of Beauchamp.
Gannet now pledged his word to the poor fellow's recovery, and the
earl's particular friends arrived, and the countess entertained them.
October passed smoothly.

She said once: 'Ancestresses of yours, my lord, have undertaken
pilgrimages as acts of penance for sin, to obtain heaven's intercession
in their extremity.'

'I dare say they did,' he replied. 'The monks got round them.'

'It is not to be laughed at, if it eased their hearts.'

Timidly she renewed her request for permission to perform the pilgrimage
to Bevisham.

'Wait,' said he, 'till Nevil is on his legs.'

'Have you considered where I may then be, Everard?'

'My love, you sleep well, don't you?'

'You see me every night.'

'I see you sound asleep.'

'I see you watching me.'

'Let's reason,' said the earl; and again they went through the argument
upon the apology to Dr. Shrapnel.

He was willing to indulge her in any amount of it: and she perceived
why. Fox! she thought. Grand fox, but fox downright. For her time was
shortening to days that would leave her no free-will.

On the other hand, the exercise of her free-will in a fast resolve, was
growing all the more a privilege that he was bound to respect. As she
became sacreder and doubly precious to him, the less would he venture
to thwart her, though he should think her mad. There would be an analogy
between his manner of regarding her and the way that superstitious
villagers look on their crazy innocents, she thought sadly. And she bled
for him too: she grieved to hurt his pride. But she had come to imagine
that there was no avoidance of this deed of personal humiliation.

Nevil had scrawled a note to her. She had it in her hand one forenoon in
mid November, when she