lf-recrimination. The demagogue, the over-punctilious
gentleman, the faint lover, surely it must be reason wanting in the three
for each of them in turn to lead the other, by an excess of some sort of
the quality constituting their men's natures, to wreck a calm life and
stand in contention! Had Shrapnel been commonly reasonable he would have
apologized to Mr. Romfrey, or had Mr. Romfrey, he would not have resorted
to force to punish the supposed offender, or had Nevil, he would have
held his peace until he had gained his bride. As it was; the folly of the
three knocked at her heart, uniting to bring the heavy accusation against
one poor woman, quite in the old way: the Who is she? of the mocking
Spaniard at mention of a social catastrophe. Rosamund had a great deal of
the pride of her sex, and she resented any slur on it. She felt almost
superciliously toward Mr. Romfrey and Nevil for their not taking hands to
denounce the plotter, Cecil Baskelett. They seemed a pair of victims to
him, nearly as much so as the wretched man Shrapnel. It was their
senselessness which made her guilty! And simply because she had uttered
two or three exclamations of dislike of a revolutionary and infidel she
was compelled to groan under her present oppression! Is there anything to
be hoped of men? Rosamund thought bitterly of Nevil's idea of their
progress. Heaven help them! But the unhappy creatures have ceased to look
to a heaven for help.

We see the consequence of it in this Shrapnel complication.

Three men: and one struck down; the other defeated in his benevolent
intentions; the third sacrificing fortune and happiness: all three owing
their mischance to one or other of the vague ideas disturbing men's
heads! Where shall we look for mother wit?--or say, common suckling's
instinct? Not to men, thought Rosamund.

She was listening to the voices of Mr. Romfrey and Beauchamp in a fever.
Ordinarily the lord of Steynham was not out of his bed later than twelve
o'clock at night. His door opened at half-past one. Not a syllable was
exchanged by the couple in the hall. They had fought it out. Mr. Romfrey
came upstairs alone, and on the closing of his chamber-door she slipped
down to Beauchamp and had a dreadful hour with him that subdued her
disposition to sit in judgement upon men. The unavailing attempt to move
his uncle had wrought him to the state in which passionate thoughts pass
into speech like heat to flame. Rosamund strained her ment