‘Are there points of likeness between Radicals and Tories?’ she inquired.

‘I suspect a cousinship in extremes,’ he answered.

‘If one might be present at an argument,’ said she.

‘We have only to meet to fly apart as wide as the Poles,’ Mr. Austin rejoined.

But she had not spoken of a particular person to meet him; and how, then, had she betrayed herself?  She fancied he looked unwontedly arch as he resumed: 

’The end of the argument would see us each entrenched in his party.  Suppose me to be telling your Radical friend such truisms as that we English have not grown in a day, and were not originally made free and equal by decree; that we have grown, and must continue to grow, by the aid and the development of our strength; that ours is a fairly legible history, and a fair example of the good and the bad in human growth; that his landowner and his peasant have no clear case of right and wrong to divide them, one being the descendant of strong men, the other of weak ones; and that the former may sink, the latter may rise—­there is no artificial obstruction; and if it is difficult to rise, it is easy to sink.  Your Radical friend, who would bring them to a level by proclamation, could not adopt a surer method for destroying the manhood of a people:  he is for doctoring wooden men, and I for not letting our stout English be cut down short as Laplanders; he would have them in a forcing house, and I in open air, as hitherto.  Do you perceive a discussion? and you apprehend the nature of it.  We have nerves.  That is why it is better for men of extremely opposite opinions not to meet.  I dare say Radicalism has a function, and so long as it respects the laws I am ready to encounter it where it cannot be avoided.  Pardon my prosing.’

‘Recommend me some hard books to study through the Winter,’ said Cecilia, refreshed by a discourse that touched no emotions, as by a febrifuge.  Could Nevil reply to it?  She fancied him replying, with that wild head of his—­wildest of natures.  She fancied also that her wish was like Mr. Austin’s not to meet him.  She was enjoying a little rest.

It was not quite generous in Mr. Austin to assume that ’her Radical friend’ had been prompting her.  However, she thanked him in her heart for the calm he had given her.  To be able to imagine Nevil Beauchamp intellectually erratic was a tonic satisfaction to the proud young lady, ashamed of a bondage that the bracing and pointing of her critical powers helped her to forget.  She had always preferred the society of men of Mr. Austin’s age.  How old was he?  Her father would know.  And why was he unmarried?  A light frost had settled on the hair about his temples; his forehead was lightly wrinkled; but his mouth and smile, and his eyes, were lively as a young man’s, with more in them.  His age must be something less than fifty.  O for peace! she sighed.  When he stepped into his carriage, and stood up in it to wave adieu to her, she thought his face and figure a perfect example of an English gentleman in his prime.