’Nevil understands that I am not going to pay a farthing of his expenses in Bevisham?’ he said to Mrs. Culling.

She replied blandly and with innocence, ‘I have not seen him, sir.’

He nodded.  At the next mention of Nevil between them, he asked, ’Where is it he’s lying perdu, ma’am?’

‘I fancy in that town, in Bevisham.’

‘At the Liberal, Radical, hotel?’

‘I dare say; some place; I am not certain . . . .’

‘The rascal doctor’s house there?  Shrapnel’s?’

‘Really . . .  I have not seen him.’

‘Have you heard from him?’

‘I have had a letter; a short one.’

‘Where did he date his letter from?’

‘From Bevisham.’

‘From what house?’

Rosamund glanced about for a way of escaping the question.  There was none but the door.  She replied, ‘From Dr. Shrapnel’s.’

‘That’s the Anti-Game-Law agitator.’

’You do not imagine, sir, that Nevil subscribes to every thing the horrid man agitates for?’

‘You don’t like the man, ma’am?’

‘I detest him.’

‘Ha!  So you have seen Shrapnel?’

’Only for a moment; a moment or two.  I cannot endure him.  I am sure I have reason.’

Rosamund flushed exceedingly red.  The visit to Dr. Shrapnel’s house was her secret, and the worming of it out made her feel guilty, and that feeling revived and heated her antipathy to the Radical doctor.

‘What reason?’ said Mr. Romfrey, freshening at her display of colour.

She would not expose Nevil to the accusation of childishness by confessing her positive reason, so she answered, ’The man is a kind of man . . .  I was not there long; I was glad to escape.  He . . .’ she hesitated:  for in truth it was difficult to shape the charge against him, and the effort to be reticent concerning Nevil, and communicative, now that he had been spoken of, as to the detested doctor, reduced her to some confusion.  She was also fatally anxious to be in the extreme degree conscientious, and corrected and modified her remarks most suspiciously.

‘Did he insult you, ma’am?’ Mr. Romfrey inquired.

She replied hastily, ’Oh no.  He may be a good man in his way.  He is one of those men who do not seem to think a woman may have opinions.  He does not scruple to outrage those we hold.  I am afraid he is an infidel.  His ideas of family duties and ties, and his manner of expressing himself, shocked me, that is all.  He is absurd.  I dare say there is no harm in him, except for those who are so unfortunate as to fall under his influence—­and that, I feel sure, cannot be permanent.  He could not injure me personally.  He could not offend me, I mean.  Indeed, I have nothing whatever to say against him, as far as I . . .’

‘Did he fail to treat you as a lady, ma’am?’

Rosamund was getting frightened by the significant pertinacity of her lord.