“What shall you do?”

“Send Jemima and the baby.  There’s nothing like a young child for bringing people round to a healthy state of feeling; and you don’t know what Jemima is, Mr. Benson!  No! though you’ve known her from her birth.  If she can’t comfort her mother, and if the baby can’t steal into her grandfather’s heart, why—­I don’t know what you may do to me.  I shall tell Jemima all, and trust to her wit and wisdom to work at this end, while I do my best at the other.”

“Richard is abroad, is not he?”

“He will be in England to-morrow.  I must catch him somewhere; but that I can easily do.  The difficult point will be, what to do with him—­what to say to him, when I find him.  He must give up his partnership, that’s clear.  I did not tell his father so, but I am resolved upon it.  There shall be no tampering with the honour of the firm to which I belong.”

“But what will become of him?” asked Mr. Benson anxiously.

“I do not yet know.  But, for Jemima’s sake—­for his dour old father’s sake—­I will not leave him adrift.  I will find him some occupation as clear from temptation as I can.  I will do all in my power.  And he will do much better, if he has any good in him, as a freer agent, not cowed by his father into a want of individuality and self-respect.  I believe I must dismiss you, Mr. Benson,” said he, looking at his watch; “I have to explain all to my wife, and to go to that clerk.  You shall hear from me in a day or two.”

Mr. Benson half envied the younger man’s elasticity of mind, and power of acting promptly.  He himself felt as if he wanted to sit down in his quiet study, and think over the revelations and events of the last twenty-four hours.  It made him dizzy even to follow Mr. Farquhar’s plans, as he had briefly detailed them; and some solitude and consideration would be required before Mr. Benson could decide upon their justice and wisdom.  He had been much shocked by the discovery of the overt act of guilt which Richard had perpetrated, low as his opinion of that young man had been for some time; and the consequence was, that he felt depressed, and unable to rally for the next few days.  He had not even the comfort of his sister’s sympathy, as he felt bound in honour not to tell her anything; and she was luckily so much absorbed in some household contest with Sally that she did not notice her brother’s quiet languor.

Mr. Benson felt that he had no right at this time to intrude into the house which he had been once tacitly forbidden.  If he went now to Mr. Bradshaw’s without being asked, or sent for, he thought it would seem like presuming on his knowledge of the hidden disgrace of one of the family.  Yet he longed to go:  he knew that Mr. Farquhar must be writing almost daily to Jemima, and he wanted to hear what he was doing.  The fourth day after her husband’s departure she came, within half-an-hour after the post delivery, and asked to speak to Mr. Benson alone.