“Shall I lie on the mat outside his door?” said Terry, half meaning it, and somewhat elated by the romantic situation.

“No, we are not come to quite such extremities.  You need not even turn his key by mistake; only keep your ears open.  He is next to you, is he not?—­and go in on pretext of inquiry—­if you hear him up to mischief.”

Nothing was heard but the ordinary summons of Boots; and it turned out in the morning that the chill had exasperated his throat, and reduced him to a condition which took away all inclination to move, besides deafening him completely.

Rosamond had to rush about all day, providing plenishing for the lodging.  Once she saw Sir Harry and his daughter in the distance, and dashed into a shop to avoid them, muttering, “I don’t believe she cared for him one bit.  I dare say she has taken up with Lorimer Strangeways after all!  Rather worse than her sister, I declare, for she never pretended to be too good for Raymond,” and then as a curate in a cassock passed—­“Ah! some of them have been working on her, and persuading her that he is not good enough for her.  Impertinent prig!  He looks just capable of it!”

Frank was no better as to cold and deafness, though somewhat less uncomfortable the next day in the lodging, and Rosamond went up without him to the station to meet the rest of the party, and arrange for Mrs. Poynsett’s conveyance.  They had accomplished the journey much better than had been, hoped, but it was late and dark enough to make it expedient that Mrs. Poynsett should be carried to bed at once, after her most unwonted fatigue, and only have one glimpse and embrace of Frank, so as to stave off the knowledge of his troubles till after her night’s rest.  He seconded this desire, and indeed Miles and Anne only saw that he had a bad cold; but Rosamond no sooner had her husband to herself, than she raved over his wrongs to her heart’s content, and implored Julius to redress them, though how, she did not well know, since she by turns declared that Frank was well quit of Lenore, and that he would never get over the loss.

Julius demurred a good deal to her wish of sending him on a mission to Eleonora.  All Charnocks naturally swung back to distrust of the Vivians, and he did not like to plead with a girl who seemed only to be making an excuse to reject his brother; while, on the other hand, he knew that Raymond had not been satisfied with Frank’s London habits, nor had he himself been at ease as to his religious practices, which certainly had been the minimum required to suit his mother’s notions.  He had been a communicant on Christmas Day, but he was so entirely out of reach that there was no knowing what difference his illness might have made in him; Eleonora might know more than his own family did, and have good and conscientious reasons for breaking with him; and, aware that his own authority had weight with her, Julius felt it almost too much responsibility to interfere till the next day, when his mother, with tears in her eyes, entreated him to go to Miss Vivian, to find out what was this dreadful misunderstanding, which perhaps might only be from his want of hearing, and implore her, in the name of an old woman, not to break her boy’s heart and darken his life, as it had been with his brother.