to tell Mr. Everard Romfrey of his chosen
nephew. Whether she had acted quite wisely in not remaining to see Nevil, was an
agitating question that had to be silenced by an appeal to her instincts of
repulsion, and a further appeal for justification of them to her imaginary
sisterhood of gossips. How could she sit and eat, how pass an evening in that
house, in the society of that man? Her tuneful chorus cried, »How indeed.«
Besides, it would have offended Mr. Romfrey to hear that she had done so. Still
she could not refuse to remember Miss Denham's marked intimations of there being
a reason for Nevil's friend to seize the chance of an immediate interview with
him; and in her distress at the thought, Rosamund reluctantly, but as if
compelled by necessity, ascribed the young lady's conduct to a strong sense of
personal interests.
    »Evidently she has no desire he should run the risk of angering a rich
uncle.«
    This shameful suspicion was unavoidable: there was no other opiate for
Rosamund's blame of herself after letting her instincts gain the ascendancy.
    It will be found a common case, that when we have yielded to our instincts,
and then have to soothe conscience, we must slaughter somebody, for a
sacrificial offering to our sense of comfort.
 

                                  Chapter XIII

                             A Superfine Conscience

However much Mr. Everard Romfrey may have laughed at Nevil Beauchamp with his
banana-wreath he liked the fellow for having volunteered for that African
coast-service, and the news of his promotion by his admiral to the post of
commander through a death vacancy, had given him an exalted satisfaction, for as
he could always point to the cause of failures, he strongly appreciated success.
The circumstance had offered an occasion for the new commander to hit him hard
upon a matter of fact. Beauchamp had sent word of his advance in rank, but
requested his uncle not to imagine him wearing an additional epaulette; and he
corrected the infallible gentleman's error (which had of course been reported to
him when he was dreaming of Renée, by Mrs. Culling) concerning a lieutenant's
shoulder decorations, most gravely; informing him of the anchor on the
lieutenant's pair of epaulettes, and the anchor and star on a commander's, and
the crown on a captain's, with a well-feigned solicitousness to save his uncle
from blundering further. This was done in the dry neat manner which Mr. Romfrey
could feel to be his own turned on him.
    He began to conceive a vague respect for the fellow who