‘Where is the book?’ said Mrs. Grancey.

‘Not here, I think.’  Cecilia glanced at the drawing-room book-table, and then at Mr. Austin, the victim of an unhappy love in his youth, and unhappy about her, as her father had said.  Seymour Austin was not one to spread the contagion of intrigue!  She felt herself caught by it, even melting to feel enamoured of herself in consequence, though not loving Beauchamp the more.

‘This newspaper, if it’s not merely an airy project, will be ruination,’ said Tuckham.  ’The fact is, Beauchamp has no bend in him.  He can’t meet a man without trying a wrestle, and as long as he keeps his stiffness, he believes he has won.  I’ve heard an oculist say that the eye that doesn’t blink ends in blindness, and he who won’t bend breaks.  It’s a pity, for he’s a fine fellow.  A Radical daily Journal of Shrapnel’s colour, to educate the people by giving them an interest in the country!  Goodness, what a delusion! and what a waste of money!  He’ll not be able to carry it on a couple of years.  And there goes his eighty thousand!’

Cecilia’s heart beat fast.  She had no defined cause for its excitement.

Colonel Halkett returned to Mount Laurels close upon midnight, very tired, coughing and complaining of the bitter blowing East.  His guests shook hands with him, and went to bed.

‘I think I’ll follow their example,’ he said to Cecilia, after drinking a tumbler of mulled wine.

‘Have you nothing to tell me, dear papa?’ said she, caressing him timidly.

’A confirmation of the whole story from Lord Romfrey in person—­that’s all.  He says Beauchamp’s mad.  I begin to believe it.  You must use your judgement.  I suppose I must not expect you to consider me.  You might open your heart to Austin.  As to my consent, knowing what I do, you will have to tear it out of me.  Here’s a country perfectly contented, and that fellow at work digging up grievances to persuade the people they’re oppressed by us.  Why should I talk of it?  He can’t do much harm; unless he has money—­money!  Romfrey says he means to start a furious paper.  He’ll make a bonfire of himself.  I can’t stand by and see you in it too.  I may die; I may be spared the sight.’

Cecilia flung her arms round his neck.  ‘Oh! papa.’

’I don’t want to make him out worse than he is, my dear.  I own to his gallantry—­in the French sense as well as the English, it seems!  It’s natural that Romfrey should excuse his wife.  She’s another of the women who are crazy about Nevil Beauchamp.  She spoke to me of the “pleasant visit of her French friends,” and would have enlarged on it, but Romfrey stopped her.  By the way, he proposes Captain Baskelett for you, and we’re to look for Baskelett’s coming here, backed by his uncle.  There’s no end to it; there never will be till you’re married:  and no peace for me!  I hope I shan’t find myself with a cold to-morrow.’