’Play at it, then!  Let her think it.  You’re helping me treat an invalid.  Colonel! my old friend!  You save my house and name if you do that.  It’s a hand round a candle in a burst of wind.  There’s Nevil dragged by a woman into one of their reeking hovels—­so that Miss Denham at Shrapnel’s writes to Lady Romfrey—­because the woman’s drunken husband voted for him at the Election, and was kicked out of employment, and fell upon the gin-bottle, and the brats of the den died starving, and the man sickened of a fever; and Nevil goes in and sits with him!  Out of that tangle of folly is my house to be struck down?  It looks as if the fellow with his infernal “humanity,” were the bad genius of an old nurse’s tale.  He’s a good fellow, colonel, he means well.  This fever will cure him, they say it sobers like bloodletting.  He’s a gallant fellow; you know that.  He fought to the skeleton in our last big war.  On my soul, I believe he’s good for a husband.  Frenchwoman or not, that affair’s over.  He shall have Steynham and Holdesbury.  Can I say more?  Now, colonel, you go in to the countess.  Grasp my hand.  Give me that help, and God bless you!  You light up my old days.  She’s a noble woman:  I would not change her against the best in the land.  She has this craze about Nevil.  I suppose she’ll never get over it.  But there it is:  and we must feed her with the spoon.’

Colonel Halkett argued stutteringly with the powerful man:  ’It’s the truth she ought to hear, Romfrey; indeed it is, if you ’ll believe me.  It ‘s his life she is fearing for.  She knows half.’

’She knows positively nothing, colonel.  Miss Denham’s first letter spoke of the fellow’s having headaches, and staggering.  He was out on a cruise, and saw your schooner pass, and put into some port, and began falling right and left, and they got him back to Shrapnel’s:  and here it is—­that if you go to him you’ll save him, and if you go to my wife you’ll save her:  and there you have it:  and I ask my old friend, I beg him to go to them both.’

’But you can’t surely expect me to force my daughter’s inclinations, my dear Romfrey?’

‘Cecilia loves the fellow!’

‘She is engaged to Mr. Tuckham.’

‘I’ll see the man Tuckham.’

‘Really, my dear lord!’

’Play at it, Halkett, play at it!  Tide us over this!  Talk to her:  hint it and nod it.  We have to round November.  I could strangle the world till that month’s past.  You’ll own,’ he added mildly after his thunder, ’I’m not much of the despot Nevil calls me.  She has not a wish I don’t supply.  I’m at her beck, and everything that’s mine.  She’s a brave good woman.  I don’t complain.  I run my chance.  But if we lose the child—­good night!  Boy or girl!—­boy!’

Lord Romfrey flung an arm up.  The child of his old age lived for him already:  he gave it all the life he had.  This miracle, this young son springing up on an earth decaying and dark, absorbed him.  This reviver of his ancient line must not be lost.  Perish every consideration to avert it!  He was ready to fear, love, or hate terribly, according to the prospects of his child.