re her
curiosity could madden me (in the state I was in at that moment) with
more questions.

I found the rector prepared to favor me with his usual flow of language.
Fifty Mr. Finches could not have possessed themselves of my attention in
the humour I was in at that moment. To the reverend gentleman's
amazement, it was I who began--and not he.

"I have just left Lucilla, Mr. Finch. I know what has happened."

"Wait a minute, Madame Pratolungo! One thing is of the utmost importance
to begin with. Do you thoroughly understand that I am, in no sense of the
word, to blame--?"

"Thoroughly," I interposed. "Of course, they would not have gone to
Browndown, if you had consented to let Nugent Dubourg into the house."

"Stop!" said Mr. Finch, elevating his right hand. "My good creature, you
are in a state of hysterical precipitation. I will be heard! I did more
than refuse my consent. When the man Grosse--I insist on your composing
yourself--when the man Grosse came and spoke to me about it, I did more,
I say, infinitely more, than refuse my consent. You know my force of
language--don't be alarmed! I said, 'Sir! As pastor and parent, My Foot
is down'----"

"I understand, Mr. Finch. Whatever you said to Herr Grosse was quite
useless; he entirely ignored your personal point of view."

"Madame Pratolungo----!"

"He found Lucilla dangerously agitated by her separation from Oscar: he
asserted, what he calls, his professional freedom of action."

"Madame Pratolungo----!"

"You persisted in closing your doors to Nugent Dubourg. _He_ persisted,
on his side--and took Lucilla to Browndown."

Mr. Finch got on his feet, and asserted himself at the full pitch of his
tremendous voice.

"Silence!" he shouted, with a smack of his open hand on the table at his
side.

I didn't care. _I_ shouted. _I_ came down, with a smack of my hand, on
the opposite side of the table.

"One question, sir, before I leave you," I said. "Since your daughter
went to Browndown, you have had many hours at your disposal. Have you
seen Mr. Nugent Dubourg?"

The Pope of Dimchurch suddenly collapsed, in full fulmination of his
domestic Bulls.

"Pardon me," he replied, adopting his most elaborately polite manner.
"This requires considerable explanation."

I declined to wait for considerable explanation. "You have not seen him?"
I said.

"I have _not_ seen him," echoed Mr. Finch. "My position towards Nugent
Dubourg is very remarkable, Madame Pratol