“I don’t love him, as it is, my dear.”

“And I should hate him less.  I felt last night as though I could rise from my bed and go and murder him.”

“Then you certainly ought to go to church.”

“And you had passed him off just as though he were a gnat from which you were to receive as little annoyance as possible, forgetting the influence he must have on those six unfortunate children.  Don’t you know that you gave her that twenty pounds simply to be rid of a disagreeable subject?”

“I should have given it ever so much sooner, only that you were looking at me.”

“I know you would, you dear, sweet, kind-hearted, but most un-Christian, father.  You must come to church, in order that some idea of what Christianity demands of you may make its way into your heart.  It is not what the clergyman may say of you, but that your mind will get away for two hours from that other reptile and his concerns.”  Then Mr. Grey, with a loud, long sigh, allowed his boots, and his gloves, and his church-going hat, and his church-going umbrella to be brought to him.  It was, in fact, his aversion to these articles that Dolly had to encounter.

It may be doubted whether the church services of that day did Mr. Grey much good; but they seemed to have had some effect upon his daughter, from the fact that in the afternoon she wrote a letter in kindly words to her aunt:  “Papa is going to Tretton, and I will come up to you on Tuesday.  I have got a frock which I will bring with me as a present for Potsey; and I will make her sew on the buttons for herself.  Tell Minna I will lend her that book I spoke of.  About those boots—­I will go with Georgina to the boot-maker.”  But as to Amelia and Sophy she could not bring herself to say a good-natured word, so deep in her heart had sunk that sin of which they had been guilty with reference to Prince Chitakov.

On that night she had a long discussion with her father respecting the affairs of the Scarborough family.  The discussion was held in the dining-room, and may, therefore, be supposed to have been premeditated.  Those at night in Mr. Grey’s own bedroom were generally the result of sudden thought.  “I should lay down the law to him—­” began Dolly.

“The law is the law,” said her father.

“I don’t mean the law in that sense.  I should tell him firmly what I advised, and should then make him understand that if he did not follow my advice I must withdraw.  If his son is willing to pay these money-lenders what sums they have actually advanced, and if by any effort on his part the money can be raised, let it be done.  There seems to be some justice in repaying out of the property that which was lent to the property when by Mr. Scarborough’s own doing the property was supposed to go into the eldest son’s hands.  Though the eldest son and the money-lenders be spendthrifts and profligates alike, there will in that be something of fairness.  Go there prepared with your opinion.  But if either father or son will not accept it, then depart, and shake the dust from your feet.”