Beauchamp's Career -- Volume 5

ad dropped a load: he was free of his bond to Mr. Romfrey, and so great was the sense of relief in him that he resolved to do battle against his daughter, supposing her st

his chance of such a prize; but whether he had or had not, the colonel felt that he occupied a position enab

the letters of Dr. Shrapnel in her custody, at her express desire. Certain te

ou had a letter of Dr. Shrapnel's

tous ru

now and then, but I undertake to produce a totally different impression on you by reading the letter myself-sparing you' (he turned to Cecilia) 'a word or two, common enough to men who write in black earnest and have humour.' He cite

o my temper,' s

the mouthpiece. I should not like the letter to be read without my being by;-except by men: any just-minded man may

d for a couple of days; and there's Lord Croyston's garden party, and the Yacht Ball. C

eman who could not expect to be followed by suppli

ou some day or othe

rds in the letter than to her father's insincerity. She would have asked her fr

e morning, papa?' she ventured to say;

would engage to run over to the island,' said Beauchamp

rtner on the night before the drive from Itchincope into Bevisham, and perhaps thought of her graceful dancing at th

wish me not to'; while smiling at t

d a healthy antagonism to misanthropic Radicals in the perfor

irely, c

stility; his adieu to her, and his melancholy departure on foot from the station, as she drove away to Mount Laurels and gaiety. Why do I dance? she asked herself. It was not in the spirit of happiness. Her heart was not with Dr. Shrapnel, but very near him, and heavy as a chamber of the sick. She was afraid of her father's favourite, imagining, from th

ham. He had seen Dr. Shrapnel, on a visit to Mr. Lydiard, whom he described as hanging about Bevisham, philandering as a married man should not, though in truth he might soon expect to be released by the death of his crazy wife. The doctor, he said, had been severely shaken by the monstrous assault made on him, and had been most unrighteously handled. The doctor was an inoffensive man in his private life, detestable and dangerous though his teachings were. Outside politics Mr. Tuckham went altoget

ccountable for the bursting out of these fires. Her father would not have deplored her acceptance of the title of Countess of Lockrace. In the matter of rejections, however, her will was paramount, and he was on her side against relatives when the subject was deb

she think ill of the man who thus advised him? She shared Beauchamp's painful feeling for him in a sudden tremour of her frame; as it were through his touch. To the rest of the letter her

met there, and driven his uncle out of patience. Mr. Romfrey's monumental patience had been exhausted by him. The colonel boiled over with accounts of Beauchamp's behaviour toward his uncle, and Palmet, and Baskelett, and Mrs. Culling: how he flew at and worried everybody who seemed to him to have had a hand in the proper chastisement of that man

im the letter covertly would be to betray them to him, who had once, not knowing it, moved her to think of a possible great change in her li

aste his time on the stuff, though he had no idea that a perusal of it could

mentioned by Cecilia, and read them calmly, without a frown or an in

n who means well,' Mr. Au

n infidel!' Colone

are n

grace not to

se letters read publicly and lectured on-by competent persons. Half the thinking world may think pretty much the same on some points as Dr. Shrapnel; they are too wise or too indolent to say it: and of the other half, about a dozen members would be competent to reply to him. He is the earnest man, and flies at politics as uneasy young brains fly to literature, fancying they can write because they can write with a pen. He perceives a bad adjustment of things: which is co

fix us to first principles like tethered sheep or hobbled horses. I should enjoy replying to him, if I had time. The wh

her than speech: and begged Cecilia to note that men who labour to force their dreams on mankind and turn vapour into fact, usually adopt such a style. Hearing that

onjunction with his conduct, to be baseless, childish, and wanton. The colonel would not see the case in that light; but Cecilia did. It was a justification of Beauchamp; and how could she ever have been blind to it?-scarcely blind, she remembered, but sensitively blinking her eyeli

insane,' sai

f from his daughter

tedness. He shone clear to her reason, at last: partly because her father in his opposition to him did not, but was on the contrary unreasonable, cased in mail, mentally clouded. She sat with Mr. Aust

e pursuit of the apology was continued in letters to his uncle and occasional interviews with him, which were by no means instigated by the doctor, Mr. Lydiard informed the ladies. He describe

terrible for me,'

from her father. Kissing him one night, she laid her head on his breast, and begged his forgiveness. He embraced her t

that M. de Croisnel was dead, and that Beauchamp meditated starting for France to console his Renee. Her conti

at patience. Beauchamp entered the room alone. He looked worn and thin, of a leaden colour, like the cloud that bears the bolt. News had reached him of the death of Lord Avonley in the hunting-field, and he was going on to Steynham to persuade his uncle to acc

red: 'Do you

an excuse for tryi

t have just returned from France, with the breath of Renee about him, and her pride would n

em in his pocket. The struggle with his uncl

eave of her. Old Mrs. Beauchamp was dying, and he had only come to Mount

f a drawing-room at midday, pale-faced, with u

he room until Cecilia,

ham could

ot. He has to be back as quick as

looked p

at first: however, he says they are not true. He would have run away with the Frenchwoman, and he would have fought the duel: but he did neither. Her brother ran ahead of him and fought for him: so he declares and she wouldn't run. So the reports are false. We shall know what Blackburn makes of the story when we hear of the legacy. I have been obliged to write word to Mrs. Be

him, in the tone of compliments. The difficulty of seriously admiring tw

inted me,' said

low a falsehood to enrich

llows. I took Blackburn for one of our solid you

y should Nevi

ons went: he confessed it, and I ought to have put it in a postscript. If Nev

s not

ur to get his uncle Everard to go down on his knees to Shrapnel. But he

e his wor

nce, whenever it suits him, to carry on ther

France lately?

r the answer, seda

s dead, I hear,' Colo

as not be

anywhere, wherever h

N

scattering it in sparks, not merely spending; I mean living immorally,

nge exaltation of mind, secretly sure now that her idea of Nevil's having gone over to France was groundle

d at her 'Oh no,' and

re timeservers. Too many time-servers rot the State, Mr. Austin said. Nevil is not one of them. I am not able to judge or speculate whether he has a great

minds up to the pitch of men's!' interjected

ountry, who decline to practise hypocrisy, show

erstood him

n why they are decried is, that it is too great a trouble for a lazy world to meet them. And, he said, the reason why the honest factions agitate is because they encounter sneers until t

ness,' observed the colonel. 'But I'm certain you misunde

f business: in ma

e got hold of a languag

u thinking on

e to Nevil

the room. He threw open a window, sniffed the moist ai

to, my dear. Your heart seems to be gone: more sorrow for us! And for Nevil B

r said that

ied out: 'You are too good for any man on earth! We won't talk in the da

er,

rench story. At any rate

u love

story is u

ush like the burning

ld dada, your friend, my dear girl! do yo

ow, papa, the Fren

y woman, he confessed it t

not tru

on, you mean?

kno

been swe

t spoken o

s it your instinct tells you it's not true? or what

e is not

! Haven't you a yes or

arms round his

s letter touching a passion to be overcome; necessarily therefore a passion that was vanquished, and the fullest and bravest explanation of his shifting treatment of her: nor would she condescend to urge that her lover would have said

arly patting her shoulder: a form of consolation that cures

eyes, and said, 'We will

on't run away from me? No, you know too well I can't resist you. I appeal to your judgement, and I must accept wha

eathing through tremul

he said editors of papers were growing to be like priests, and as timid as priests, and arrogant: and for one thing, it was because they s

ped out of maiden shame and said: 'Attack Nevil for his political heresies and his wrath with the Press

nd out you

ook he

her father reiterated piteously, 'you won't

not I. I

r me to hold fast to,' sai