a prey to the artful o’ men—­unpertected.  And it’s a young marriage—­but there’s no fear for her, as far as she go.  The fear’s t’other way.  There’s that in a man—­at the commencement—­which make of him Lord knows what if you any way interferes:  whereas a woman bides quiet!  It’s consolation catch her, which is what we mean by seduein’.  Whereas a man—­he’s a savage!”

Sir Austin turned his face to Adrian, who was listening with huge delight.

“Well, ma’am, I see you have something in your mind, if you would only come to it quickly.”

“Then here’s my point, Sir Austin.  I say you bred him so as there ain’t another young gentleman like him in England, and proud he make me.  And as for her, I’ll risk sayin’—­it’s done, and no harm—­you might search England through, and nowhere will ye find a maid that’s his match like his own wife.  Then there they be.  Are they together as should be?  O Lord no!  Months they been divided.  Then she all lonely and exposed, I went, and fetched her out of seducers’ ways—­which they may say what they like, but the inn’cent is most open to when they’re healthy and confidin’—­I fetch her, and—­the liberty—­boxed her safe in my own house.  So much for that sweet!  That you may do with women.  But it’s him—­Mr. Richard—­I am bold, I know, but there—­I’m in for it, and the Lord’ll help me!  It’s him, Sir Austin, in this great metropolis, warm from a young marriage.  It’s him, and—­I say nothin’ of her, and how sweet she bears it, and it’s eating her at a time when Natur’ should have no other trouble but the one that’s goin’ on it’s him, and I ask—­so bold—­shall there—­and a Christian gentlemen his father—­shall there be a tug ’tween him as a son and him as a husband—­soon to be somethin’ else?  I speak bold out—­I’d have sons obey their fathers, but a priest’s words spoke over them, which they’re now in my ears, I say I ain’t a doubt on earth—­I’m sure there ain’t one in heaven—­which dooty’s the holier of the two.”

Sir Austin heard her to an end.  Their views on the junction of the sexes were undoubtedly akin.  To be lectured on his prime subject, however, was slightly disagreeable, and to be obliged mentally to assent to this old lady’s doctrine was rather humiliating, when it could not be averred that he had latterly followed it out.  He sat cross-legged and silent, a finger to his temple.

“One gets so addle-gated thinkin’ many things,” said Mrs. Berry, simply.  “That’s why we see wonder clever people goin’ wrong—­to my mind.  I think it’s al’ays the plan in a dielemmer to pray God and walk forward.”

The keen-witted soft woman was tracking the baronet’s thoughts, and she had absolutely run him down and taken an explanation out of his mouth, by which Mrs. Berry was to have been informed that he had acted from a principle of his own, and devolved a wisdom she could not be expected to comprehend.

Of course he became advised immediately that it would be waste of time to direct such an explanation to her inferior capacity.