“I have always said,” observed Cornelia, “that she labours under a disease.”  What is more, she had always told Mrs. Lupin as much, and her sisters had echoed her.  Three to one in such a case is a severe trial to the reason of solitary one.  And Mrs. Lupin’s case was peculiar, inasmuch as the more she yielded to Chump-temptation and eased her heart of its load of laughter, the more her heart cried out against her and subscribed to the scorn of her nieces.  Mrs. Chump acted a demon’s part; she thirsted for Mrs. Lupin that she might worry her.  Hitherto she had not known that anything peculiar lodged in her tongue, and with no other person did she think of using it to produce a desired effect; but now the scenes in Brookfield became hideous to the ladies, and not wanting in their trials to the facial muscles of the gentlemen.  A significant sign of what the ladies were enduring was, that they ceased to speak of it in their consultations.  It is a blank period in the career of young creatures when a fretting wretchedness forces them out of their dreams to action; and it is then that they will do things that, seen from the outside (i.e. in the conduct of others), they would hold to be monstrous, all but impossible.  Or how could Cornelia persuade herself, as she certainly persuaded Sir Twickenham and the world about her, that she had a contemplative pleasure in his society?  Arabella drew nearer to Edward Buxley, whom she had not treated well, and who, as she might have guessed, had turned his thoughts toward Adela; though clearly without encouragement.  Adela indeed said openly to her sisters, with a Gallic ejaculation, “Edward follows me, do you know; and he has adopted a sort of Sicilian-vespers look whenever he meets me with Captain Gambier.  I could forgive him if he would draw out a dagger and be quite theatrical; but, behold, we meet, and my bourgeois grunts and stammers, and seems to beg us to believe that he means nothing whatever by his behaviour.  Can you convey to his City-intelligence that he is just a trifle ill-bred?”

Now, Arabella had always seen Edward as a thing that was her own, which accounts for the treatment to which, he had been subjected.  A quick spur of jealousy—­a new sensation—­was the origin of her leaning toward Edward; and the plea of saving Adela from annoyance excused and covered it.  He, for his part, scarcely concealed his irritation, until a little scented twisted note was put in his hand, which said, “You are as anxious as I can be about our sweet lost Emilia!  We believe ourselves to be on her traces.”  This gave him wonderful comfort.  It put Adela in a beautiful fresh light as a devoted benefactress and delicious intriguante.  He threw off some of his most telling caricatures at this period.  Adela had divined that Captain Gambier suspected his cousin Merthyr Powys of abstracting Emilia, that he might shield her from Mr. Pericles.  The Captain confessed it, calmly blushing, and that he was in