So Rosamond stayed, succeeding so far in soothing him that his eyes lost their savage gleam, and were suffused with a look of unnatural tenderness when they rested on her face. He did not ask her how she came by the ring, for he knew it had been sent as an insult to him, and he felt a glow of satisfaction in knowing that it was blackening on the grate. Ben's voice was now heard in the hall, asking if they intended staying there all night, and in a whisper Mr. Browning bade Rosamond go down and apologize for him. She accordingly descended to the parlor, telling Mrs. Van Vechten that her brother was too much indisposed to come down, and wished to be excused. Mrs. Van Vechten bowed coolly, and taking a book of prints, busied herself for awhile in examining them; then the book dropped from her hand--her head fell back--her mouth fell open, and Ben, who was anxiously watching her, knew by unmistakable sounds that she was fast asleep. It was now his time, and faithfully did he improve it, devoting himself so assiduously to Rosamond, that she was glad when a _snore,_ louder and more prolonged than any which had preceded it started the lady herself, and produced symptoms of returning consciousness. The next day, and the next, it was the same, and at the expiration of a week, Ben had determined either to marry Rosamond Leyton, or go to the _Crimean War,_ this last being the bugbear, with which he intended frightening his mother into a consent. He hardly dared disobey her openly for fear of disinheritance, and he would rather she should express her willingness to receive Miss Leyton as her daughter. He accordingly startled her one day by asking her to sanction his intended proposal to the young girl. Nothing could exceed Mrs. Van Vechten's amazement and contempt. She would never consent, and if Ben persisted in making so disgraceful an alliance, she would disinherit him at once. Ben knew she was in earnest, and so fell back upon the Crimean war as a last resort. "He would go immediately--would start that very day for New York--he had money enough to carry him there," and he painted so vividly "death on a distant battle-field, with a ferocious _Russian_ rifling his trousers' pocket," that his mother began to cry, though she still refused to relent. "Choose, mother, choose," said he. "It's almost car time--Rosamond or the war," and he drew on his heavy boots. "Oh Benjamin, you, will kill me dead." "I know it. I mean to. Rosamond or the war!" and he buttoned up his coat preparatory to a start. "Do, Ben, listen to reason." "I won't--I won't;--Rosamond or the war! I shall rush into the thickest of the fight, and be killed the first fire, of course, and black is _so_ unbecoming to you." "Stop, I entreat. You know you are afraid of cannons;" this was said beseechingly. "Thunder, mother! No, I ain't! Rosamond or the war--choose quick. I hear the whistle at East Granby."