The earl’s gorge rose. Why, such an act was comparable to the circular mission of the dog!
“If I do not make the apology, the mother of your child is a coward,” said Rosamund.
“She’s not.”
“I trust not.”
“You are a reasonable woman, my dear. Now listen: the man insulted you. It’s past: done with. He insulted you...”
“He did not.”
“What?”
“He was courteous to me, hospitable to me, kind to me. He did not insult me. I belied him.”
“My dear saint, you’re dreaming. He spoke insultingly of you to Cecil.”
“Is my lord that man’s dupe? I would stand against him before the throne of God, with what little I know of his interview with Dr. Shrapnel, to confront him and expose his lie. Do not speak of him. He stirs my evil passions, and makes me feel myself the creature I was when I returned to Steynham from my first visit to Bevisham, enraged with jealousy of Dr. Shrapnel’s influence over Nevil, spiteful, malicious: Oh! such a nest of vileness as I pray to heaven I am not now, if it is granted me to give life to another. Nevil’s misfortunes date from that,” she continued, in reply to the earl’s efforts to soothe her. “Not the loss of the Election: that was no misfortune, but a lesson. He would not have shone in Parliament: he runs too much from first principles to extremes. You see I am perfectly reasonable, Everard: I can form an exact estimate of character and things.” She smiled in his face. “And I know my husband too: what he will grant; what he would not, and justly would not. I know to a certainty that vexatious as I must be to you now, you are conscious of my having reason for being so.”