r from
them, for it flows off the pen as readily as it fills a vacuum.

That posture of Renee displeased Cecilia and fascinated her. In an
exhibition of paintings she would have passed by it in pure displeasure:
but here was Nevil's first love, the woman who loved him; and she was
French. After a continued study of her Cecilia's growing jealousy
betrayed itself in a conscious rivalry of race, coming to the admission
that Englishwomen cannot fling themselves about on the floor without
agonizing the graces: possibly, too, they cannot look singularly without
risks in the direction of slyness and brazen archness; or talk animatedly
without dipping in slang. Conventional situations preserve them and
interchange dignity with them; still life befits them; pre-eminently that
judicial seat from which in briefest speech they deliver their judgements
upon their foreign sisters. Jealousy it was that plucked Cecilia from her
majestic place and caused her to envy in Renee things she would otherwise
have disapproved.

At last she had seen the French lady's likeness! The effect of it was a
horrid trouble in Cecilia's cool blood, abasement, a sense of eclipse,
hardly any sense of deserving worthiness: 'What am I but an heiress!'
Nevil had once called her beautiful; his praise had given her beauty. But
what is beauty when it is outshone! Ask the owners of gems. You think
them rich; they are pining.

Then, too, this Renee, who looked electrical in repose, might really love
Nevil with a love that sent her heart out to him in his enterprises,
justifying and adoring him, piercing to the hero in his very thoughts.
Would she not see that his championship of the unfortunate man Dr.
Shrapnel was heroic?

Cecilia surrendered the card to Rosamund, and it was out of sight when
Beauchamp stepped in the drawing-room. His cheeks were flushed; he had
been one against three for the better part of an hour.

'Are you going to show me the downs to-morrow morning?' Cecilia said to
him; and he replied, 'You will have to be up early.'

'What's that?' asked the colonel, at Beauchamp's heels.

He was volunteering to join the party of two for the early morning's ride
to the downs. Mr. Romfrey pressed his shoulder, saying, 'There's no third
horse can do it in my stables.'

Colonel Halkett turned to him.

'I had your promise to come over the kennels with me and see how I treat
a cry of mad dog, which is ninety-nine times out of a hundred mad fool
man,'