of four words, like so many others in all languages, is capable by varied vocal inflections of expressing all states of mind from helpless dimness to exhaustive argumentative perception, from the completest self-devoting fellowship to the most neutral aloofness. Rosamond's thin utterance threw into the words "What can I' do!" as much neutrality as they could hold. They fell like a mortal chill on Lydgate's roused tenderness. He did not storm in indignation—he felt too sad a sinking of the heart. And when he spoke again it was more in the tone of a man who forces himself to fulfil a task.
"It is necessary for you to know, because I have to give security for a time, and a man must come to make an inventory of the furniture."
Rosamond coloured deeply. "Have you not asked papa for money?" she said, as soon as she could speak.
"No."
"Then I must ask him!" she said, releasing her hands from Lydgate's, and rising to stand at two yards' distance from him.
"No, Rosy," said Lydgate, decisively. "It is too late to do that. The inventory will be begun to-morrow. Remember it is a mere security: it will make no difference: it is a temporary affair.
