ing
friends, Adela stamped her foot, saying that it was more than human
nature could bear.

"If we go," said Arabella, "the London doctor assured Mr. Powys that he
would not answer for papa's life."

"But, good heavens! are we papa's enemies? And why may Mr. Powys see him
if we, his daughters, cannot? Tell me how Mr. Powys met him and knew of
it! Tell me--I am bewildered. I feel that we are cheated in some way. Oh!
tell me something clear."

Arabella said calmingly: "Emilia is with papa. She wrote to Mr. Powys.
Whether she did rightly or not we have not now to inquire. I believe that
she thought it right."

"Entertain friends!" interjected Adela. "But papa cannot possibly mean
that we are to go through--to--the fete on Besworth Lawn, Bella! It's in
two days from this dreadful day."

"Papa has mentioned it to Mr. Powys; he desires us not to postpone it.
We..." Arabella's voice broke piteously.

"Oh! but this is torture!" cried Adela, with a deplorable vision of the
looking-glass rising before her, as she felt the tears sting her eyelids.
"This cannot be! No father would...not loving us as dear papa does! To be
quiet! to sit and be gay! to flaunt at a fete! Oh, mercy! mercy! Tell
me--he left us quite well--no one could have guessed. I remember he
looked at me from the carriage window. Tell me--it must be some moral
shock--what do you attribute it to? Wilfrid cannot be the guilty one. We
have been only too compliant to papa's wishes about that woman. Tell me
what you think it can be!"

A voice said, "Money!"

Which of the sisters had spoken Adela did not know. It was bitter enough
that one could be brought to utter the thing, even if her ideas were so
base as to suspect it. The tears now came dancing over her under-lids
like triumphing imps. "Money!" echoed through her again and again.
Curiously, too, she had no occasion to ask how it was that money might be
supposed to have operated on her father's health. Unable to realize to
herself the image of her father lying ill and suffering, but just
sufficiently touched by what she could conceive of his situation, the
bare whisper of money came like a foul insult to overwhelm her in floods
of liquid self-love. She wept with that last anguish of a woman who is
compelled to weep, but is incapable of finding any enjoyment in her
tears. Cornelia and Arabella caught her hands; she was the youngest, and
had been their pet. It gratified them that Adela should show a deep and