two Generals--Rose Jocelyn and the Countess de Saldar--had
brought matters to this pass; and from the two tactical extremes: the
former by openness and dash; the latter by subtlety, and her own
interpretations of the means extended to her by Providence. I will not be
so bold as to state which of the two I think right. Good and evil work
together in this world. If the Countess had not woven the tangle, and
gained Evan time, Rose would never have seen his blood,--never have had
her spirit hurried out of all shows and forms and habits of thought, up
to the gates of existence, as it were, where she took him simply as God
created him and her, and clave to him. Again, had Rose been secret, when
this turn in her nature came, she would have forfeited the strange power
she received from it, and which endowed her with decision to say what was
in her heart, and stamp it lastingly there. The two Generals were quite
antagonistic, but no two, in perfect ignorance of one another's
proceedings, ever worked so harmoniously toward the main result. The
Countess was the skilful engineer: Rose the General of cavalry. And it
did really seem that, with Tom Cogglesby and his thousands in reserve,
the victory was about to be gained. The male Jocelyns, an easy race,
decided that, if the worst came to the worst, and Rose proved a wonder,
there was money, which was something.

But social prejudice was about to claim its champion. Hitherto there had
been no General on the opposite side. Love, aided by the Countess, had
engaged an inert mass. The champion was discovered in the person of the
provincial Don Juan, Mr. Harry Jocelyn. Harry had gone on a mysterious
business of his own to London. He returned with a green box under his
arm, which, five minutes after his arrival, was entrusted to Conning, in
company with a genial present for herself, of a kind not perhaps so fit
for exhibition; at least they both thought so, for it was given in the
shades. Harry then went to pay his respects to his mother, who received
him with her customary ironical tolerance. His father, to whom he was an
incarnation of bother, likewise nodded to him and gave him a finger. Duty
done, Harry looked round him for pleasure, and observed nothing but glum
faces. Even the face of John Raikes was, heavy. He had been hovering
about the Duke and Miss Current for an hour, hoping the Countess would
come and give him a promised introduction. The Countess stirred not from
above, and Ja