a subject to discourse of India, or Continental affairs, at a period when his house was full for the opening day of sport, and the expectation of keeping up his renown for great bags on that day so entirely occupied his mind.  Good shots were present who had contributed to the fame of Steynham on other opening days.  Birds were plentiful and promised not to be too wild.  He had the range of the Steynham estate in his eye, dotted with covers; and after Steynham, Holdesbury, which had never yielded him the same high celebrity, but both lay mapped out for action under the profound calculations of the strategist, ready to show the skill of the field tactician.  He could not attend to Nevil.  Even the talk of the forthcoming Elections, hardly to be avoided at his table, seemed a puerile distraction.  Ware the foe of his partridges and pheasants, be it man or vermin!  The name of Shrapnel was frequently on the tongue of Captain Baskelett.  Rosamund heard him, in her room, and his derisive shouts of laughter over it.  Cecil was a fine shot, quite as fond of the pastime as his uncle, and always in favour with him while sport stalked the land.  He was in gallant spirits, and Rosamund, brooding over Nevil’s fortunes, and sitting much alone, as she did when there were guests in the house, gave way to her previous apprehensions.  She touched on them to Mr. Stukely Culbrett, her husband’s old friend, one of those happy men who enjoy perceptions without opinions, and are not born to administer comfort to other than themselves.  As far as she could gather, he fancied Nevil Beauchamp was in danger of something, but he delivered his mind only upon circumstances and characters:  Nevil risked his luck, Cecil knew his game, Everard Romfrey was the staunchest of mankind:  Stukely had nothing further to say regarding the situation.  She asked him what he thought, and he smiled.  Could a reasonable head venture to think anything in particular?  He repeated the amazed, ‘You don’t say so’ of Colonel Halkett, on hearing the name of the new Liberal candidate for Bevisham at the dinner-table, together with some of Cecil’s waggish embroidery upon the theme.

Rosamund exclaimed angrily, ’Oh! if I had been there he would not have dared.’

‘Why not be there?’ said Stukely.  ’You have had your choice for a number of years.’

She shook her head, reddening.

But supposing that she had greater privileges than were hers now?  The idea flashed.  A taint of personal pique, awakened by the fancied necessity for putting her devotedness to Nevil to proof, asked her if she would then be the official housekeeper to whom Captain Baskelett bowed low with affected respect and impertinent affability, ironically praising her abroad as a wonder among women, that could at one time have played the deuce in the family, had she chosen to do so.

‘Just as you like,’ Mr. Culbrett remarked.  It was his ironical habit of mind to believe that the wishes of men and women—­women as well as men—­were expressed by their utterances.