‘It is not to be laughed at, if it eased their hearts.’

Timidly she renewed her request for permission to perform the pilgrimage to Bevisham.

‘Wait,’ said he, ‘till Nevil is on his legs.’

‘Have you considered where I may then be, Everard?’

‘My love, you sleep well, don’t you?’

‘You see me every night.’

‘I see you sound asleep.’

‘I see you watching me.’

‘Let’s reason,’ said the earl; and again they went through the argument upon the apology to Dr. Shrapnel.

He was willing to indulge her in any amount of it:  and she perceived why.  Fox! she thought.  Grand fox, but fox downright.  For her time was shortening to days that would leave her no free-will.

On the other hand, the exercise of her free-will in a fast resolve, was growing all the more a privilege that he was bound to respect.  As she became sacreder and doubly precious to him, the less would he venture to thwart her, though he should think her mad.  There would be an analogy between his manner of regarding her and the way that superstitious villagers look on their crazy innocents, she thought sadly.  And she bled for him too:  she grieved to hurt his pride.  But she had come to imagine that there was no avoidance of this deed of personal humiliation.

Nevil had scrawled a note to her.  She had it in her hand one forenoon in mid November, when she said to her husband:  ’I have ordered the carriage for two o’clock to meet the quarter to three train to London, and I have sent Stanton on to get the house ready for us tonight.’

Lord Romfrey levelled a marksman’s eye at her.

‘Why London?  You know my wish that it should be here at the castle.’

‘I have decided to go to Bevisham.  I have little time left.’

‘None, to my thinking.’

’Oh I yes; my heart will be light.  I shall gain.  You come with me to
London?’

‘You can’t go.’

‘Don’t attempt to reason with me, please, please!’

‘I command, madam.’

‘My lord, it is past the hour of commanding.’

He nodded his head, with the eyes up amid the puckered brows, and blowing one of his long nasal expirations, cried, ’Here we are, in for another bout of argument.’

’No; I can bear the journey, rejoice in confessing my fault, but more argument I cannot bear.  I will reason with you when I can:  submit to me in this.’

‘Feminine reasoning!’ he interjected.

’I have nothing better to offer.  It will be prudent to attend to me.  Take my conduct for the portion I bring you.  Before I put myself in God’s care I must be clean.  I am unclean.  Language like that offends you.  I have no better.  My reasoning has not touched you; I am helpless, except in this determination that my contrition shall be expressed to Dr. Shrapnel.  If I am to have life, to be worthy of living and being a mother, it must be done.  Now, my dear lord, see that, and submit.  You’re but one voice:  I am two.’