“It’s better to have your impediments in the rear of you, and march!” said Mr. Romfrey.
Colonel Halkett declined to wait for anybody. He shouted for his daughter. The lady’s maid appeared, and then Cecilia with Rosamund.
“We can’t entertain you, Nevil; we’re away to the island: I’m sorry,” said the colonel; and observing Cecilia’s face in full crimson, he looked at her as if he had lost a battle by the turn of events at the final moment.
Mr. Romfrey handed Cecilia into the carriage. He exchanged a friendly squeeze with the colonel, and offered his hand to his nephew. Beauchamp passed him with a nod and “Good-bye, sir.”
“Have ready at Holdesbury for the middle of the month,” said Mr. Romfrey, unruffled, and bowed to Cecilia.
“If you think of bringing my cousin Baskelett, give me warning, sir,” cried Beauchamp.
“Give me warning, if you want the house for Shrapnel,” replied his uncle, and remarked to Rosamund, as the carriage wheeled round the mounded laurels to the avenue, “He mayn’t be quite cracked. The fellow seems to have a turn for catching his opportunity by the tail. He had better hold fast, for it’s his last.”
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CECILIA CONQUERED
The carriage rolled out of the avenue and through the park, for some time parallel with the wavy downs. Once away from Steynham Colonel Halkett breathed freely, as if he had dropped a load: he was free of his bond to Mr. Romfrey, and so great was the sense of relief in him that he resolved to do battle against his daughter, supposing her still lively blush to be the sign of the enemy’s flag run up on a surrendered citadel. His authority was now to be thought of: his paternal sanction was in his own keeping. Beautiful as she looked, it was hardly credible that a fellow in possession of his reason could have let slip his chance of such a prize; but whether he had or had not, the colonel felt that he occupied a position enabling him either to out-manœuvre, or, if need were, interpose forcibly and punish him for his half-heartedness.
Cecilia looked the loveliest of women to Beauchamp’s eyes, with her blush, and the letters of Dr. Shrapnel in her custody, at her express desire. Certain terms in the letters here and there, unsweet to ladies, began to trouble his mind.