“I shall use my authority,” he said, stepping a little higher.

“Yes, dear, I am sure you will.  But what will happen if Michael doesn’t pay any attention to your authority?  You will be worse off than ever.  Poor Michael is very obedient when he is told to do anything he intends to do, but when he doesn’t agree it is difficult to do anything with him.  And, you see, he is quite independent of you with my mother having left him so much money.  Poor mamma!”

Lord Ashbridge felt strongly about this.

“It was a most extraordinary disposition of her property for your mother to make,” he observed.  “It has given Michael an independence which I much deplore.  And she did it in direct opposition to my wishes.”

This touched on one of the questions about which Lady Ashbridge had her convictions.  She had a mild but unalterable opinion that when anybody died, all that they had previously done became absolutely flawless and laudable.

“Mamma did as she thought right with her property,” she said, “and it is not for us to question it.  She was conscientiousness itself.  You will have to excuse my listening to any criticism you may feel inclined to make about her, Robert.”

“Certainly, my dear.  I only want you to listen to me about Michael.  You agree with me on the impossibility of his adopting a musical career.  I cannot, at present, think so ill of Michael as to suppose that he will defy our joint authority.”

“Michael has a great will of his own,” she remarked.  “He gets that from you, Robert, though he gets his money from his grandmother.”

The futility of further discussion with his wife began to dawn on Lord Ashbridge, as it dawned on everybody who had the privilege of conversing with her.  Her mind was a blind alley that led nowhere; it was clear that she had no idea to contribute to the subject except slightly pessimistic forebodings with which, unfortunately, he found himself secretly disposed to agree.  He had always felt that Michael was an uncomfortable sort of boy; in other words, that he had the inconvenient habit of thinking things out for himself, instead of blindly accepting the conclusions of other people.

Much as Lord Ashbridge valued the sturdy independence of character which he himself enjoyed displaying, he appreciated it rather less highly when it was manifested by people who were not sensible enough to agree with him.  He looked forward to Michael’s arrival that evening with the feeling that there was a rebellious standard hoisted against the calm blue of the evening sky, and remembering the advent of his sister he wondered whether she would not join the insurgent.  Barbara Jerome, as has been remarked, often annoyed her brother; she also genially laughed at him; but Lord Ashbridge, partly from affection, partly from a loyal family sense of clanship, always expected his sister to spend a fortnight with him in August, and would have been much hurt had she refused to do so.  Her husband, however, so far from spending a fortnight with his brother-in-law, never spent a minute in his presence if it could possibly be avoided, an arrangement which everybody concerned considered to be wise, and in the interests of cordiality.