wer. Twice to listen
to that letter was beyond her endurance. Indeed it cast a shadow on him
and disfigured him; and when, affecting to plead, he said: 'You must
listen to it to please me, for my sake, Cecilia,' she answered: 'It is
for your sake, Nevil, I decline to.'

'Why, what do you know of it?' he exclaimed.

'I know the kind of writing it would be.'

'How do you know it?'

'I have heard of some of Dr. Shrapnel's opinions.'

'You imagine him to be subversive, intolerant, immoral, and the rest! all
that comes under your word revolutionary.'

'Possibly; but I must defend myself from hearing what I know will be
certain to annoy me.'

'But he is the reverse of immoral: and I intend to read you parts of the
letter to prove to you that he is not the man you would blame, but I, and
that if ever I am worthier . . . worthier of you, as I hope to become, it
will be owing to this admirable and good old man.'

Cecilia trembled: she was touched to the quick. Yet it was not pleasant
to her to be wooed obliquely, through Dr. Shrapnel.

She recognized the very letter, crowned with many stamps, thick with many
pages, in Beauchamp's hands.

'When you are at Steynham you will probably hear my uncle Everard's
version of this letter,' he said. 'The baron chooses to think everything
fair in war, and the letter came accidentally into his hands with the
seal broken; well, he read it. And, Cecilia, you can fancy the sort of
stuff he would make of it. Apart from that, I want you particularly to
know how much I am indebted to Dr. Shrapnel. Won't you learn to like him
a little? Won't you tolerate him?--I could almost say, for my sake! He
and I are at variance on certain points, but taking him altogether, I am
under deeper obligations to him than to any man on earth. He has found
where I bend and waver.'

'I recognize your chivalry, Nevil.'

'He has done his best to train me to be of some service. Where's the
chivalry in owning a debt? He is one of our true warriors; fearless and
blameless. I have had my heroes before. You know how I loved Robert Hall:
his death is a gap in my life. He is a light for fighting Englishmen--who
fight with the sword. But the scale of the war, the cause, and the end in
view, raise Dr. Shrapnel above the bravest I have ever had the luck to
meet. Soldiers and sailors have their excitement to keep them up to the
mark; praise and rewards. He is in his eight-and-sixtieth year, and he
has never received a