‘But speak of Nevil to Colonel Halkett,’ said Rosamund, earnestly carrying on what was in her heart.  ’Persuade the colonel you do not think Nevil foolish—­not more than just a little impetuous.  I want that marriage to come off!  Not on account of her wealth.  She is to inherit a Welsh mine from her uncle, you know, besides being an only child.  Recall what Nevil was during the war.  Miss Halkett has not forgotten it, I am sure, and a good word for him from a man of the world would, I am certain, counteract Captain Baskelett’s—­are they designs?  At any rate, you can if you like help Nevil with the colonel.  I am convinced they are doing him a mischief.  Colonel Halkett has bought an estate—­and what a misfortune that is!—­close to Bevisham.  I fancy he is Toryish.  Will you not speak to him?  At my request?  I am so helpless I could cry.

‘Fancy you have no handkerchief,’ said Mr. Culbrett, ’and give up scheming, pray.  One has only to begin to scheme, to shorten life to half-a-dozen hops and jumps.  I could say to the colonel, “Young Beauchamp’s a political cub:  he ought to have a motherly wife."’

‘Yes, yes, you are right; don’t speak to him at all,’ said Rosamund, feeling that there must be a conspiracy to rob her of her proud independence, since not a soul could be won to spare her from taking some energetic step, if she would be useful to him she loved.

Colonel Halkett was one of the guests at Steynham who knew and respected her, and he paid her a visit and alluded to Nevil’s candidature, apparently not thinking much the worse of him.  ’We can’t allow him to succeed,’ he said, and looked for a smiling approval of such natural opposition, which Rosamund gave him readily after he had expressed the hope that Nevil Beauchamp would take advantage of his proximity to Mount Laurels during the contest to try the hospitality of the house.  ’He won’t mind meeting his uncle?’ The colonel’s eyes twinkled.  ’My daughter has engaged Mr. Romfrey and Captain Baskelett to come to us when they have shot Holdesbury.’

And Captain Baskelett! thought Rosamund; her jealousy whispering that the mention of his name close upon Cecilia Halkett’s might have a nuptial signification.

She was a witness from her window—­a prisoner’s window, her ’eager heart could have termed it—­of a remarkable ostentation of cordiality between the colonel and Cecil, in the presence of Mr. Romfrey.  Was it his humour to conspire to hand Miss Halkett to Cecil, and then to show Nevil the prize he had forfeited by his folly?  The three were on the lawn a little before Colonel Halkett’s departure.  The colonel’s arm was linked with Cecil’s while they conversed.  Presently the latter received his afternoon’s letters, and a newspaper.  He soon had the paper out at a square stretch, and sprightly information for the other two was visible in his crowing throat.  Mr. Romfrey raised the gun from his shoulder-pad, and grounded it.  Colonel