His nerves shrank and trembled under it.
Beryl--poor little Beryl! What a wretch he had been to propose to her--in a moment of moral and physical weakness, when it had seemed a simple thing to accept her affection and to pledge his own! But if she stood by him, he must stand by her.

And he had had the kindest letter from Sir Henry, and some sweet tremulous words from her.
Suppose she offered to release him?
His heart leapt guiltily at the thought.

What, indeed, had a man so haunted and paralysed to give to a girl like Beryl?
It was an outrage--it ought to cease.
But as to his father, that was simple enough.
The Squire and his eldest son retreated to the library after dinner, and all the rest of the party waited uneasily to see what would happen.

Elizabeth did her best to keep things going.

It might have been noticed--it was noticed by at least two of the persons present--that quite unobtrusively, she was already the mistress of the house.