So much for Adela’s part in the conflict.  Edward was unaware that the secret of her mastering him was, that she was now talking common-sense in the tone of sentiment.  He, on the contrary, talked sentiment in the tone of common-sense.  Of course he was beaten:  and O, you young lovers, when you hear the dear lips setting what you call the world’s harsh language to this music, know that an hour has struck for you!  It is a fatal sound to hear.  Edward believed that his pleading had produced an effect when he saw Miss Adela’s bosom rise as with a weight on it.  The burden of her thoughts was—­“How big and heavy Edward’s eyes look when he is not amusing!” To get rid of him she said, as with an impassioned coldness, “Go.”  Her figure, repeating this under closed eyelids, was mysterious, potent.  When he exclaimed, “Then I will go,” her eyelids lifted wide:  she shut them instantly, showing at the same time a slight tightening-in of the upper lip.  You beheld a creature tied to the stake of Duty.

But she was exceedingly youthful, and had not reckoned upon man’s being a live machine, possessing impulses of his own.  A violent seizure of her waist, and enough of kisses to make up the sum popularly known as a ‘shower,’ stopped her performance.  She struggled, and muttered passionately to be released.  “We are seen,” she hazarded.  At the repetition, Edward, accustomed to dread the warning, let her go and fled.  Turning hurriedly about, Adela found that she had spoken truth unawares, and never wished so much that she had lied.  Sir Twickenham Pryme came forward to her, with his usual stiff courtly step.

“If you could have been a little—­a little earlier,” she murmured, with an unflurried face, laying a trembling hand in his; and thus shielded herself from a suspicion.

“Could I know that I was wanted?” He pressed her hand.

“I only know that I wish I had not left your side,” said she—­adding, “Though you must have thought me what, if I were a man, you Members of Parliament would call ‘a bore,’ for asking perpetual questions.”

“Nay, an apposite interrogation is the guarantee of a proper interest in the subject,” said the baronet.

Cornelia was very soon reverted to.

“Her intellect is contemplative,” said Adela, exhibiting marvellous mental composure.  “She would lose her unerring judgement in active life.  She cannot weigh things in her mind rapidly.  She is safe if her course of action is clear.”

Sir Twickenham reserved his opinion of the truth of this.  “I wonder whether she can forgive those who offend or insult her, easily?”

A singular pleasure warmed Adela’s veins.  Her cheeks kindling, she replied, giving him her full face.  “No; if they are worthy of punishment.  But—­” and now he watched a downcast profile—­“one must have some forgiveness for fools.”

“Indeed, you speak like charity out of the windows of wisdom,” said the baronet.