Sir Franks looked at his wife.

‘What harm?’ Lady Jocelyn asked; for Rose’s absence of conscious guile in appealing to her reason had subjugated that great faculty.

‘Simply a sense of propriety, Emily,’ said Mrs. Shorne, with a glance at Ferdinand.

‘You have no objection, I suppose!’ Lady Jocelyn addressed him.

‘Ferdinand will join us,’ said Rose.

‘Thank you, Rose, I’d rather not,’ he replied.  ’I thought we had done with the fellow for good last night.’

‘Last night?’ quoth Lady Jocelyn.

No one spoke.  The interrogation was renewed.  Was it Rose’s swift instinct which directed her the shortest way to gain her point? or that she was glad to announce that her degrading engagement was at an end?  She said: 

’Ferdinand and Mr. Harrington came to an understanding last night, in my presence.’

That, strange as it struck on their ears, appeared to be quite sufficient to all, albeit the necessity for it was not so very clear.  The carriage was ordered forthwith; Lady Jocelyn went to dress; Rose drew Ferdinand away into the garden.  Then, with all her powers, she entreated him to join her.

‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said; ‘I have no taste for the genus.’

‘For my sake, I beg it, Ferdinand.’

‘It’s really too much to ask of me, Rose.’

‘If you care for me, you will.’

‘’Pon my honour, quite impossible!’

‘You refuse, Ferdinand?’

’My London tailor ‘d find me out, and never forgive me.’

This pleasantry stopped her soft looks.  Why she wished him to be with her, she could not have said.  For a thousand reasons:  which implies no distinct one something prophetically pressing in her blood.

CHAPTER XLVI

A LOVERS’ PARTING

Now, to suppose oneself the fashioner of such a chain of events as this which brought the whole of the Harrington family in tender unity together once more, would have elated an ordinary mind.  But to the Countess de Saldar, it was simply an occasion for reflecting that she had misunderstood—­and could most sincerely forgive—­Providence.  She admitted to herself that it was not entirely her work; for she never would have had their place of meeting to be the Shop.  Seeing, however, that her end was gained, she was entitled to the credit of it, and could pardon the means adopted.  Her brother lord of Beckley Court, and all of them assembled in the old 193, Main Street, Lymport!  What matter for proud humility!  Providence had answered her numerous petitions, but in its own way.  Stipulating that she must swallow this pill, Providence consented to serve her.  She swallowed it with her wonted courage.  In half an hour subsequent to her arrival at Lymport, she laid siege to the heart of Old Tom Cogglesby, whom she found installed in the parlour, comfortably sipping at a tumbler of rum-and-water.  Old Tom was astonished to meet such an agreeable unpretentious woman, who talked of tailors and lords with equal ease, appeared to comprehend a man’s habits instinctively, and could amuse him while she ministered to them.