‘Because the change is too fine for you to perceive it,’ interposed the Countess.

‘Rose, then, and her mother, and her father!’ Evan cried impetuously.

‘As for Lady Jocelyn!’ the Countess shrugged: 

‘And Sir Franks!’ her head shook:  ’and Rose, Rose is, simply self-willed; a “she will” or “she won’t” sort of little person.  No criterion!  Henceforth the world is against us.  We have to struggle with it:  it does not rank us of it!’

‘Your feeling on the point is so exaggerated, my dear Louisa’, said Evan, ’one can’t bring reason to your ears.  The tattle we shall hear we shall outlive.  I care extremely for the good opinion of men, but I prefer my own; and I do not lose it because my father was in trade.’

‘And your own name, Evan Harrington, is on a shop,’ the Countess struck in, and watched him severely from under her brow, glad to mark that he could still blush.

‘Oh, heaven!’ she wailed to increase the effect, ’on a shop! a brother of mine!’

’Yes, Louisa.  It may not last . . .  I did it—­is it not better that a son should blush, than cast dishonour on his father’s memory?’

‘Ridiculous boy-notion!’

’Rose has pardoned it, Louisa—­cannot you?  I find that the naturally vulgar and narrow-headed people, and cowards who never forego mean advantages, are those only who would condemn me and my conduct in that.’

‘And you have joy in your fraction of the world left to you!’ exclaimed his female-elder.

Changeing her manner to a winning softness, she said: 

’Let me also belong to the very small party!  You have been really romantic, and most generous and noble; only the shop smells!  But, never mind, promise me you will not enter it.’

‘I hope not,’ said Evan.

’You do hope that you will not officiate?  Oh, Evan the eternal contemplation of gentlemen’s legs! think of that!  Think of yourself sculptured in that attitude!’ Innumerable little prickles and stings shot over Evan’s skin.

‘There—­there, Louisa!’ he said, impatiently; ’spare your ridicule.  We go to London to-morrow, and when there I expect to hear that I have an appointment, and that this engagement is over.’  He rose and walked up and down the room.

‘I shall not be prepared to go to-morrow,’ remarked the Countess, drawing her figure up stiffly.

‘Oh! well, if you can stay, Andrew will take charge of you, I dare say.’

‘No, my dear, Andrew will not—­a nonentity cannot—­you must.’

‘Impossible, Louisa,’ said Evan, as one who imagines he is uttering a thing of little consequence.  ‘I promised Rose.’

’You promised Rose that you would abdicate and retire?  Sweet, loving girl!’

Evan made no answer.

‘You will stay with me, Evan.’

‘I really can’t,’ he said in his previous careless tone.

‘Come and sit down,’ cried the Countess, imperiously.