'But always--always? Under any circumstances?' 'More and more, dear. I always have, and shall. I look to you now. I have no home but in your heart now.' She was agitated, and he spoke warmly to calm her. The throb of deep emotion rang in her rich voice. 'I will live any life to be worthy of your love, Evan,' and she wept. To him they were words and tears without a history. Nothing further passed between them. Caroline went to the Countess: Evan waited for Rose. The sun was getting high. The face of the stream glowed like metal. Why did she not come? She believed him guilty from the mouth of another? If so, there was something less for him to lose. And now the sacrifice he had made did whisper a tale of mortal magnificence in his ears: feelings that were not his noblest stood up exalted. He waited till the warm meadow-breath floating past told that the day had settled into heat, and then he waited no more, but quietly walked into the house with the strength of one who has conquered more than human scorn. CHAPTER XXXVII THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY Never would the Countess believe that brother of hers, idiot as by nature he might be, and heir to unnumbered epithets, would so far forget what she had done for him, as to drag her through the mud for nothing: and so she told Caroline again and again, vehemently. It was about ten minutes before the time for descending to the breakfast- table. She was dressed, and sat before the glass, smoothing her hair, and applying the contents of a pot of cold cream to her forehead between- whiles. With perfect sincerity she repeated that she could not believe it. She had only trusted Evan once since their visit to Beckley; and that this once he should, when treated as a man, turn traitor to their common interests, and prove himself an utter baby, was a piece of nonsense her great intelligence indignantly rejected. 'Then, if true,' she answered Caroline's assurances finally, 'if true, he is not his father's son!' By which it may be seen that she had indeed taken refuge in the Castle of Negation against the whole army of facts. 'He is acting, Carry. He is acting the ideas of his ridiculous empty noddle!' 'No,' said Caroline, mournfully, 'he is not. I have never known Evan to lie.' 'Then you must forget the whipping he once had from his mother--little dolt! little selfish pig! He obtains his reputation entirely from his abominable selfishness, and then stands tall, and asks us to admire him. He bursts with vanity. But if you lend your credence to it, Carry, how, in the name of goodness, are you to appear at the breakfast? 'I was going to ask you whether you would come,' said Caroline, coldly. 'If I can get my hair to lie flat by any means at all, of course!' returned the Countess. 'This dreadful horrid country pomade! Why did we not bring a larger stock of the Andalugian Regenerator? Upon my honour, my dear, you use a most enormous quantity; I must really tell you that.'