'Look lenient, be kind, be just, my husband. Oh! let us cleanse our
hearts. This great wrong was my doing. I am not only quite strong
enough to travel to Bevisham, I shall be happy in going: and when I have
done it--said: "The wrong was all mine," I shall rejoice like the pure in
spirit. Forgiveness does not matter, though I now believe that poor
loving old man who waits outside his door weeping, is wrong-headed only
in his political views. We women can read men by their power to love.
Where love exists there is goodness. But it is not for the sake of the
poor old man himself that I would go: it is for Nevil's; it is for ours,
chiefly for me, for my child's, if ever . . . !' Rosamund turned her
head on her pillow.

The earl patted her cheek. 'We 'll talk it over in the morning,' he
said. 'Now go to sleep.'

He could not say more, for he did not dare to attempt cajolery with her.
Shading his lamp he stepped softly away to wrestle with a worse nightmare
than sleep's. Her meaning was clear: and she was a woman to insist on
doing it. She was nevertheless a woman not impervious to reason, if only
he could shape her understanding to perceive that the state of her
nerves, incident to her delicate situation and the shock of that fellow
Nevil's illness--poor lad!--was acting on her mind, rendering her a
victim of exaggerated ideas of duty, and so forth.

Naturally, apart from allowing her to undertake the journey by rail, he
could not sanction his lady's humbling of herself so egregiously and
unnecessarily. Shrapnel had behaved unbecomingly, and had been punished
for it. He had spoken to Shrapnel, and the affair was virtually at an
end. With his assistance she would see that, when less excited. Her