Who on earth could it be? Beauchamp hated unexpected visitors, and irregular meals and "upsets" of every kind; above all he hated that anything should take place in his own house without his knowing all the ins and outs of it. Vaguely annoyed, he was turning to make inquiry, when an eager voice arrested him. It was the voice of Rachel, a very flushed and excited Rachel. Captain Chancellor objected to the lower orders displaying their feelings in his presence, and at the best of times there was a latent antagonism between Eugenia's husband and her maid. "Oh, sir," exclaimed the agitated damsel. "Oh, sir, you have come in. I am so glad." ("What business is it of yours?" thought her master.) "My mistress is so anxious to see you at once, sir, please." "What is the matter? Where is your mistress?" he asked impatiently. "Upstairs, sir, in her own room, packing," she replied, rashly. "Packing? What in all the world do you mean? Packing, where to go to? Are you all going out of your senses?" he demanded, with increasing irritation. But Rachel, seeing which way the wind blew, had prudently fled. There was nothing for it but to go up to Eugenia's room, and find out for himself the reason of all this disturbance. Ten minutes later, the bell of Mrs Chancellor's dressing-room rang sharply, and a message came down to Miss Eyrecourt, requesting her to go upstairs at once. When Roma entered the room, there stood the husband and wife, the former looking out of the window, tapping his boots impatiently with the riding whip still in his hand; the latter by the side of a half-filled trunk, her face white and miserable, but with a gleam in her eyes which Roma had never seen there before. "Roma," she cried, as Miss Eyrecourt came in, with a passionate, appealing despair in her voice, "Roma, he won't let me go! And my father longing so for me. Roma, speak to him." "Roma knows better," said Beauchamp, with a hard little laugh. "Let you go? I should think not. You must be completely insane to think of such a thing. You who have been making yourself out too much of an invalid to go anywhere--why, you refused Lady Vaughan for this very evening!--to think of setting off on a three or four hours' journey with a perfect stranger--a stranger to _me_ at least, whom your father sends off in this helter-skelter fashion to fetch you, because he is not very well and nervous and fanciful. I never heard such a thing in my life! I can't understand your complete indifference to appearances in the first place." Eugenia said not a word. Roma, knowing of old the mood which Beauchamp was in, controlled her indignation, though it was not very easy to do so.