c. The expelling
agency has next to be expelled, and it is a subtle poison, affecting our
spirits. Duchess Susan had now the incense of a victim to heighten her
charms; like the treasure-laden Spanish galleon for whom, on her voyage
home from South American waters, our enterprising light-craft privateers
lay in wait, she had the double attraction of being desirable and an
enemy. To watch above her conscientiously was a harassing business.

Mr. Beamish sent for Chloe, and she came to him at once. Her look
was curious; he studied it while they conversed. So looks one who is
watching the sure flight of an arrow, or the happy combinations of an
intrigue. Saying, 'I am no inquisitor, child,' he ventured upon two or
three modest inquisitions with regard to her mistress. The title he
had disguised Duchess Susan in, he confessed to rueing as the principal
cause of the agitation of his principality. 'She is courted,' he said,
'less like a citadel waving a flag than a hostelry where the demand is
for sitting room and a tankard! These be our manners. Yet, I must own,
a Duchess of Dewlap is a provocation, and my exclusive desire to protect
the name of my lord stands corrected by the perils environing his lady.
She is other than I supposed her; she is, we will hope, an excellent
good creature, but too attractive for most and drawbridge and the
customary defences to be neglected.

Chloe met his interrogatory with a ready report of the young duchess's
innocence and good nature that pacified Mr. Beamish.

'And you?' said he.

She smiled for answer.

That smile was not the common smile; it was one of an eager
exultingness, producing as he gazed the twitch of an inquisitive
reflection of it on his lips. Such a smile bids us guess and quickens us
to guess, warns us we burn and speeds our burning, and so, like an angel
wafting us to some heaven-feasting promontory, lifts us out of ourselves
to see in the universe of colour what the mouth has but pallid speech
to tell. That is the very heart's language; the years are in a look, as
mount and vale of the dark land spring up in lightning.

He checked himself: he scarce dared to say it.

She nodded.

'You have seen the man, Chloe?'

Her smiling broke up in the hard lines of an ecstasy neighbouring pain.
'He has come; he is here; he is faithful; he has not forgotten me. I was
right. I knew! I knew!'

'Caseldy has come?'

'He has come. Do not ask. To have him! to see him! Mr. Beamis