Beauchamp's Career -- Volume 5

nging of the dinner-b

om door, the bearer of

run of the eyes, and s

ou. Madame de Rouail

ritten in a French hand

y with u

ow, perhaps. The dang

rapnel been

it's quite

to you, N

rous business:-an old man, defenceless, harmless as a

not guess at

askelett led no blind man

live, I knew

en insulted. I see it all. Now you must have the courage to tell him of your error. There's no other course fo

exclaimed Ros

But he must go. I will have the

never tell yo

in his uncl

t? Ever since he heard Dr. Shrapnel's letter to you, Colonel Halkett has, I am sure, been tempted to confound you with him in his mind: ah! Nevil, but recollect that it is only Mr. Romfrey who can help to give you your Cecilia. There

t his cousin Cecil had read out the le

bell

if I did not intend to force him to repair the

not see Captain Bas

nour: it is in his power. There, I leave you to speak to him;

r. Shrapnel from Mr. Romfrey! It i

sit idle: but d

t down

red at that; and then remembered his al

re any guests at Steynham. She prepared to receive Miss Halkett in the draw

ughter and son in a group. Rosamund could not bear to look at the face of Renee,

t hand. M. de Croisnel's fallen eyelids and unshorn white chin told the story of

gest-which draws the heart? a radiant landscape, where the tall ripe wheat flashes between sh

in anguish that superhumanize bliss, touches of mystery in simplicity, of the eternal in the variable. These two chords of poignant antiphony she struck throughout the range of the hearts of men, and strangely intervolved them in vibrating unison. Only to l

nd said critically, using one of the insular commonplaces, after that

and study the face preser

ask who this was. She sat over the portrait blus

and very like her, except i

ful significance and the mists? She caught at the nerves like certain aoristic combinations in music, like tones of a stringed instrument swept by the wind, enticing, unseizable. Yet she sat there at her father's feet gazing out into the world indifferent to spectators, indifferent even to the common sentiment of gracefulness. Her left hand clasped his right, and she supported herself on the floor with the other hand leaning

ranks flapping their leathern straps to terrorize us from experiments in imagery, will best be satisfied, by the statement that she wa

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 an

se of eclipse, hardly any sense of deserving worthiness: 'What am I but an heiress!' Nevil had once called her beautiful; his pr

ho looked electrical in

sent her heart out to

him, piercing to the he

at his championship

pnel was

when Beauchamp stepped in the drawing-room. His cheeks were flus

rrow morning?' Cecilia said to him; and h

ed the colonel, at

morning's ride to the downs. Mr. Romfrey pressed his should

lkett turn

see how I treat a cry of mad dog, which is ninety-nine

to stand by Nevil still and offer

kennels.' Considering however what he had been witnessing of Nevil's behaviour to his uncle,

downs?'

my rolling billows, land to left, sea to right, below you. 'It's the nearest hit to wings we can make, Cecilia.' He surprised her with her Christian name, which kindled in her the secret of something he expected from that ride on the downs. Compare you the Alps with them? If you could jump on the back of an eagle, you might. The Alps have height. But the downs have swiftness. Those long stretching lines of the downs are greyhounds in full career. To look at

on the contrary, with a swing of enthusiasm that seemed to spring of ancient heartfelt fervours. And indeed soon aft

was rather dismayed by the formal preparations for the ride. She declined the early cup of coffee. Mr.

hen they hand the bride into the travelling-carriage. His 'Good-night, my darling!' was in the voice of a soldier on duty. For a concluding sign that her dim apprehensions pointed correctly, Mr. Romfrey kissed her on the forehead. She