is
not playing to the ear of William Harvey, for whom billiards have such
attractions; but, at the close of the performance, Rose is quiet enough,
and the Countess observes her sitting, alone, pulling the petals of a
flower in her lap, on which her eyes are fixed. Is the doe wounded?
The damsel of the disinterested graciousness is assuredly restless. She
starts up and goes out upon the balcony to breathe the night-air, mayhap
regard the moon, and no one follows her.

Had Rose been guiltless of offence, Evan might have left Beckley Court
the next day, to cherish his outraged self-love. Love of woman is
strongly distinguished from pure egoism when it has got a wound: for
it will not go into a corner complaining, it will fight its duel on
the field or die. Did the young lady know his origin, and scorn him? He
resolved to stay and teach her that the presumption she had imputed to
him was her own mistake. And from this Evan graduated naturally enough
the finer stages of self-deception downward.

A lover must have his delusions, just as a man must have a skin. But
here was another singular change in Evan. After his ale-prompted speech
in Fallow field, he was nerved to face the truth in the eyes of all save
Rose. Now that the truth had enmeshed his beloved, he turned to battle
with it; he was prepared to deny it at any moment; his burnt flesh was
as sensitive as the Countess's.

Let Rose accuse him, and he would say, 'This is true, Miss Jocelyn--what
then?' and behold Rose confused and dumb! Let not another dare suspect
it. For the fire that had scorched him was in some sort healing,
though horribly painful; but contact with the general air was not to
be endured--was death! This, I believe, is common in cases of injury
by fire. So it befell that Evan, meeting Rose the next morning was
playfully asked by her what choice he had made between the white and the
red; and he, dropping on her the shallow eyes of a conventional smile,
replied, that unable to decide and form a choice, he had thrown both
away; at which Miss Jocelyn gave him a look in the centre of his brows,
let her head slightly droop, and walked off.

'She can look serious as well as grimace,' was all that Evan allowed
himself to think, and he strolled out on the lawn with the careless
serenity of lovers when they fancy themselves heart-free.

Rose, whipping the piano in the drawing-room, could see him go to sit by
Mrs. Evremonde, till they were joined by Drummon