redit her for. I'll go and
consult her, if positively you don't mind. Trust her for keeping it
quiet. Come, Ned, she's sure to hit upon the right thing. May I go?"

"It's your affair, more than mine," said Edward.

"Have it so, if you like," returned the good-natured fellow. "It's worth
while consulting her, just to see how neatly she'll take it. Bless your
heart, she won't know a bit more than you want her to know. I'm off to
her now." He carried away the letter.

Edward's own practical judgement would have advised his instantly
sending a short reply to Robert, explaining that he was simply in
conversation with the man Sedgett, when Robert, the old enemy of the
latter, rode by, and, that while regretting Sedgett's proceedings, he
could not be held accountable for them. But it was useless to think of
acting in accordance with his reason. Mrs. Lovell was queen, and sat
in reason's place. It was absolutely necessary to conciliate her
approbation of his conduct in this dilemma, by submitting to the decided
unpleasantness of talking with her on a subject that fevered him, and of
allowing her to suppose he required the help of her sagacity. Such was
the humiliation imposed upon him. Further than this he had nothing to
fear, for no woman could fail to be overborne by the masculine force
of his brain in an argument. The humiliation was bad enough, and half
tempted him to think that his old dream of working as a hard student,
with fair and gentle Dahlia ministering to his comforts, and too happy
to call herself his, was best. Was it not, after one particular step
had been taken, the manliest life he could have shaped out? Or did
he imagine it so at this moment, because he was a coward, and because
pride, and vanity, and ferocity alternately had to screw him up to meet
the consequences of his acts, instead of the great heart?

If a coward, Dahlia was his home, his refuge, his sanctuary. Mrs. Lovell
was perdition and its scorching fires to a man with a taint of cowardice
in him.

Whatever he was, Edward's vanity would not permit him to acknowledge
himself that. Still, he did not call on his heart to play inspiriting
music. His ideas turned to subterfuge. His aim was to keep the
good opinion of Mrs. Lovell while he quieted Robert; and he entered
straightway upon that very perilous course, the attempt, for the sake of
winning her, to bewilder and deceive a woman's instincts.

CHAPTER XXIII

Over a fire in one of the u