had been undervaluing.

'I shall not own I'm worsted until I surrender my vote,' the colonel
rejoined.

'I won't despair of it,' said Beauchamp.

Colonel Halkett bade him come for it as often as he liked. You'll be
beaten in Bevisham, I warn you. Tory reckonings are safest: it's an
admitted fact: and we know you can't win. According to my judgement a
man owes a duty to his class.'

'A man owes a duty to his class as long as he sees his class doing its
duty to the country,' said Beauchamp; and he added, rather prettily in
contrast with the sententious commencement, Cecilia thought, that the
apathy of his class was proved when such as he deemed it an obligation
on them to come forward and do what little they could. The deduction of
the proof was not clearly consequent, but a meaning was expressed;
and in that form it brought him nearer to her abstract idea of Nevil
Beauchamp than when he raged and was precise.

After his departure she talked of him with her father, to be charitably
satirical over him, it seemed.

The critic in her ear had pounced on his repetition of certain words
that betrayed a dialectical stiffness and hinted a narrow vocabulary:
his use of emphasis, rather reminding her of his uncle Everard, was, in
a young man, a little distressing. 'The apathy of the country, papa;
the apathy of the rich; a state of universal apathy. Will you inform me,
papa, what the Tories are doing? Do we really give our consciences to
the keeping of the parsons once a week, and let them dogmatize for us to
save us from exertion? We must attach ourselves to principles; nothing
is permanent but principles. Poor Nevil! And still I am sure you have,
as I have, the feeling that one must respect him. I am quite convinced
that he supposes he is doing his best to serve his country by trying for
Parliament, fancying himself a Radical. I forgot to ask him whether he
had visited his great-aunt, Mrs. Beauchamp. They say the dear old lady
has influence with him.'

'I don't think he's been anywhere,' Colonel Halkett half laughed at the
quaint fellow. 'I wish the other great-nephew of hers were in England,
for us to run him against Nevil Beauchamp. He's touring the world. I'm
told he's orthodox, and a tough debater. We have to take what we can
get.'

'My best wishes for your success, and you and I will not talk of
politics any more, papa. I hope Nevil will come often, for his own good;
he will meet his own set of people here. And if