‘There you are wrong, Roland,’ said Beauchamp; ’she can neither speak nor think for herself:  you lead her blindfolded.’

’And you, my friend, suppose that you are wiser than any of us.  It is understood.  I venture to appeal to madame on the point in question.’

The poor lady’s heart beat dismally.  She was constrained to answer, and said, ‘His uncle is one who must be consulted.’

‘You hear that, Nevil,’ said Roland.

Beauchamp looked at her sharply; angrily, Rosamund feared.  She had struck his hot brain with the vision of Everard Romfrey as with a bar of iron.  If Rosamund had inclined to the view that he was sure of his uncle’s support, it would have seemed to him a simple confirmation of his sentiments, but he was not of the same temper now as when he exclaimed, ‘Let him see her!’ and could imagine, give him only Renee’s love, the world of men subservient to his wishes.

Then he was dreaming; he was now in fiery earnest, for that reason accessible to facts presented to him; and Rosamund’s reluctantly spoken words brought his stubborn uncle before his eyes, inflicting a sense of helplessness of the bitterest kind.

They were all silent.  Beauchamp stared at the lines of the deck-planks.

His scheme to rescue Renee was right and good; but was he the man that should do it?  And was she, moreover, he thought—­speculating on her bent head—­the woman to be forced to brave the world with him, and poverty?  She gave him no sign.  He was assuredly not the man to pretend to powers he did not feel himself to possess, and though from a personal, and still more from a lover’s, inability to see all round him at one time and accurately to weigh the forces at his disposal, he had gone far, he was not a wilful dreamer nor so very selfish a lover.  The instant his consciousness of a superior strength failed him he acknowledged it.

Renee did not look up.  She had none of those lightnings of primitive energy, nor the noble rashness and reliance on her lover, which his imagination had filled her with; none.  That was plain.  She could not even venture to second him.  Had she done so he would have held out.  He walked to the head of the boat without replying.

Soon after this the boat was set for Venice again.

When he rejoined his companions he kissed Rosamund’s hand, and Renee, despite a confused feeling of humiliation and anger, loved him for it.

Glittering Venice was now in sight; the dome of Sta.  Maria Salute shining like a globe of salt.

Roland flung his arm round his friend’s neck, and said, ‘Forgive me.’

‘You do what you think right,’ said Beauchamp.

’You are a perfect man of honour, my friend, and a woman would adore you.  Girls are straws.  It’s part of Renee’s religion to obey her father.  That’s why I was astonished! . . .  I owe you my life, and I would willingly give you my sister in part payment, if I had the giving of her; most willingly.  The case is, that she’s a child, and you?’