times.’  It was the best way to irritate him.  I did not intend it; that is all I can say.  He jumped from his chair, rubbed his hair, and almost ran up and down the library floor, telling me that I prevaricated.  ’You object to a widow marrying at all—­that’s my question!’ he cried out loud.  Of course I contained my voice all the more.  ‘Distinctly, papa.’  When I had spoken, I could scarcely help laughing.  He went like a pony that is being broken in, crying, I don’t know how many times, ‘Why?  What’s your reason?’ You may suppose, darlings, that I decline to enter upon explanation.  If a person is dense upon a matter of pure sentiment, there is no ground between us:  he has simply a sense wanting.  ’What has all this to do with Besworth?’ I asked.  ‘A great deal more than you fancy,’ was his answer.  He seemed to speak every word at me in capital letters.  Then, as if a little ashamed, he sat down, and reached out his hand to mine, and I saw his eyes were moist.  I drew my chair nearer to him.  Now, whether I did right or wrong in this, I do not know I leave it entirely to your judgement.  If you consider how I was placed, you will at all events excuse me.  What I did was—­you know, the very farthest suspicion one has of an extreme possibility one does not mind mentioning:  I said ’Papa, if it should so happen that money is the objection to Besworth, we will not trouble you.’  At this, I can only say that he behaved like an insane person.  He denounced me as wilfully insulting him that I might avoid one subject.”

“And what on earth can that be?” interposed Arabella.

“You may well ask.  Could a genie have guessed that Mrs. Chump was at the bottom of it all?  The conclusion of the dreadful discussion is this, that papa offers to take the purchase of Besworth into his consideration, if we, as I said before, will receive Mrs. Chump as our honoured guest.  I am bound to say, poor dear old man, he spoke kindly, as he always does, and kissed me, and offered to give me anything I might want.  I came from him stupefied.  I have hardly got my senses about me yet.”

The ladies caressed her, with grave looks; but neither of them showed a perturbation of spirit like that which distressed Adela.

“Wilfrid’s meaning is now explained,” said Cornelia.  “He is in league with papa; or has given in his adhesion to papa’s demands, at least.  He is another example of the constant tendency in men to be what they call ‘practical’ at the expense of honour and sincerity.”

“I hope not,” said Arabella.  “In any case, that need not depress you so seriously, darling.”

She addressed Adela.

“Do you not see?” Adela cried, in response.  “What! are you both blind to the real significance of papa’s words?  I could not have believed it!  Or am I this time too acute?  I pray to heaven it may be so!”

Both ladies desired her to be explicit; Arabella, eagerly; Cornelia with distrust.