‘What’s come to them?’ the colonel asked of Mr. Romfrey, who said shrugging, ‘Something wrong with one of the horses.’  It had happened to him on one occasion to set foot in the hole of a baked hedgehog that had furnished a repast, not without succulence, to some shepherd of the downs.  Such a case might have recurred; it was more likely to cause an upset at a walk than at a gallop:  or perhaps a shoe had been cast; and young people break no bones at a walking fall; ten to one if they do at their top speed.  Horses manage to kill their seniors for them:  the young are exempt from accident.

Colonel Halkett nodded and sighed:  ’I daresay they’re safe.  It’s that man Shrapnel’s letter—­that letter, Romfrey!  A private letter, I know; but I’ve not heard Nevil disown the opinions expressed in it.  I submit.  It’s no use resisting.  I treat my daughter as a woman capable of judging for herself.  I repeat, I submit.  I haven’t a word against Nevil except on the score of his politics.  I like him.  All I have to say is, I don’t approve of a republican and a sceptic for my son-in-law.  I yield to you, and my daughter, if she . . . !’

’I think she does, colonel.  Marriage ’ll cure the fellow.  Nevil will slough his craze.  Off! old coat.  Cissy will drive him in strings.  “My wife!” I hear him.’  Mr. Romfrey laughed quietly.  ’It’s all “my country,” now.  The dog’ll be uxorious.  He wants fixing; nothing worse.’

‘How he goes on about Shrapnel!’

‘I shouldn’t think much of him if he didn’t.’

’You’re one in a thousand, Romfrey.  I object to seeing a man worshipped.’

‘It’s Nevil’s green-sickness, and Shrapnel’s the god of it.’

’I trust to heaven you’re right.  It seems to me young fellows ought to be out of it earlier.’

‘They generally are.’  Mr. Romfrey named some of the processes by which they are relieved of brain-flightiness, adding philosophically, ’This way or that.’

His quick ear caught a sound of hoofs cantering down the avenue on the Northern front of the house.

He consulted his watch.  ’Ten minutes to eight.  Say a quarter-past for dinner.  They’re here, colonel.’

Mr. Romfrey met Nevil returning from the stables.  Cecilia had disappeared.

‘Had a good day?’ said Mr. Romfrey.

Beauchamp replied:  ‘I’ll tell you of it after dinner,’ and passed by him.

Mr. Romfrey edged round to Colonel Halkett, conjecturing in his mind:  They have not hit it; as he remarked:  ’Breakfast and luncheon have been omitted in this day’s fare,’ which appeared to the colonel a confirmation of his worst fears, or rather the extinction of his last spark of hope.

He knocked at his daughter’s door in going upstairs to dress.

Cecilia presented herself and kissed him.

‘Well?’ said he.

‘By-and-by, papa,’ she answered.  ’I have a headache.  Beg Mr. Romfrey to excuse me.’