“She understands all sorts of things.  She argues....  I am quite unable to argue with her.”

“About this vote business?”

“About all sorts of things.  Things I didn’t imagine she had heard of.  I knew she had been reading books.  But I never imagined that she could have understood....”

The bishop laid down his knife and fork.

“One may read in books, one may even talk of things, without fully understanding,” he said.

Lady Ella tried to entertain this comforting thought.  “It isn’t like that,” she said at last.  “She talks like a grown-up person.  This—­this escapade is just an accident.  But things have gone further than that.  She seems to think—­that she is not being educated properly here, that she ought to go to a College.  As if we were keeping things from her....”

The bishop reconsidered his plate.

“But what things?” he said.

“She says we get all round her,” said Lady Ella, and left the implications of that phrase to unfold.

(9)

For a time the bishop said very little.

Lady Ella had found it necessary to make her first announcement standing behind him upon the hearthrug, but now she sat upon the arm of the great armchair as close to him as possible, and spoke in a more familiar tone.

The thing, she said, had come to her as a complete surprise.  Everything had seemed so safe.  Eleanor had been thoughtful, it was true, but it had never occurred to her mother that she had really been thinking—­about such things as she had been thinking about.  She had ranged in the library, and displayed a disposition to read the weekly papers and the monthly reviews.  But never a sign of discontent.

“But I don’t understand,” said the bishop.  “Why is she discontented?  What is there that she wants different?”

“Exactly,” said Lady Ella.

“She has got this idea that life here is secluded in some way,” she expanded.  “She used words like ‘secluded’ and ‘artificial’ and—­what was it?—­’cloistered.’  And she said—­”

Lady Ella paused with an effect of exact retrospection.

“‘Out there,’ she said, ‘things are alive.  Real things are happening.’  It is almost as if she did not fully believe—­”

Lady Ella paused again.

The bishop sat with his arm over the back of his chair, and his face downcast.

“The ferment of youth,” he said at last.  “The ferment of youth.  Who has given her these ideas?”

Lady Ella did not know.  She could have thought a school like St. Aubyns would have been safe, but nowadays nothing was safe.  It was clear the girls who went there talked as girls a generation ago did not talk.  Their people at home encouraged them to talk and profess opinions about everything.  It seemed that Phoebe Walshingham and Lady Kitty Kingdom were the leaders in these premature mental excursions.  Phoebe aired religious doubts.