of
helplessness. Once more she was reduced to promise that she would
speak the whole truth to Mr. Romfrey, even to the fact that she had
experienced a common woman's jealousy of Dr. Shrapnel's influence, and
had alluded to him jealously, spitefully, and falsely. There was no
mercy in Beauchamp. He was for action at any cost, with all the forces
he could gather, and without delays. He talked of Cecilia as his uncle's
bride to him. Rosamund could hardly trust her ears when he informed her
he had told his uncle of his determination to compel him to accomplish
the act of penitence. 'Was it prudent to say it, Nevil?' she asked. But,
as in his politics, he disdained prudence. A monstrous crime had
been committed, involving the honour of the family. No subtlety of
insinuation, no suggestion, could wean him from the fixed idea that the
apology to Dr. Shrapnel must be spoken by his uncle in person.

'If one could only imagine Mr. Romfrey doing it!' Rosamund groaned.

'He shall: and you will help him,' said Beauchamp.

'If you loved a woman half as much as you do that man!'

'If I knew a woman as good, as wise, as noble as he!'

'You are losing her.'

'You expect me to go through ceremonies of courtship at a time like
this! If she cares for me she will feel with me. Simple compassion--but
let Miss Halkett be. I'm afraid I overtasked her in taking her to
Bevisham. She remained outside the garden. Ma'am, she is unsullied by
contact with a single shrub of Dr. Shrapnel's territory.'

'Do not be so bitterly ironical, Nevil. You have not seen her as I
have.'

Rosamund essayed a tender sketch of the fair young lady, and fancied
that she drew forth a sigh; she would have coloured the sketch, but he
commanded her to hurry off to bed, and think of her morning's work.

A commission of which we feel we can accurately forecast the
unsuccessful end is not likely to be undertaken with an ardour that
might perhaps astound the presageing mind with unexpected issues.
Rosamund fulfilled hers in the style of one who has learnt a lesson,
and, exactly as she had anticipated, Mr. Romfrey accused her of coming
to him from a conversation with that fellow Nevil overnight. He shrugged
and left the house for his morning's walk across the fields.

Colonel Halkett and Cecilia beheld him from the breakfast-room returning
with Beauchamp, who had waylaid him and was hammering his part in the
now endless altercation. It could be descried at any distan