kedly, "The former ought not to be lost to the family."
Thick clouds obscured the vision. Lady Gosstre had once told her that
the point of Sir Twickenham's private character was his susceptibility
to ridicule. Her ladyship had at the same time complimented his
discernment in conjunction with Cornelia. "Yes," Adela now thought; "but
if my sister shows that she is not so wise as she looks!" Cornelia's
figure disappeared under the foliage bordering Besworth Lawn.

As usual, Arabella had all the practical labour--a fact that was noticed
from the observant heights. "One sees mere de famille written on that
young woman," was the eulogy she won from Lady Gosstre. How much
would the great dame have marvelled to behold the ambition beneath the
bustling surface! Arabella was feverish, and Freshfield Sumner reported
brilliant things uttered by her. He became after a time her attendant,
aide, and occasional wit-foil. They had some sharp exchanges: and he
could not but reflect on the pleasure her keen zest of appreciation gave
him compared with Cornelia's grave smile, which had often kindled in
him profane doubts of the positive brightness, or rapidity of her
intelligence.

"Besworth at sunset! What a glorious picture to have living before you
every day!" said Lady Charlotte to her companion.

Wilfrid flushed. She read his look; and said, when they were out of
hearing, "What a place for old people to sit here near the end of
life! The idea of it makes one almost forgive the necessity for getting
old--doesn't it? Tracy Runningbrook might make a poem about silver heads
and sunset--something, you know! Very easy cantering then--no hunting!
I suppose one wouldn't have even a desire to go fast--a sort of
cock-horse, just as we began with. The stables, let me tell you, are too
near the scullery. One is bound to devise measures for the protection of
the morals of the household."

While she was speaking, Wilfrid's thoughts ran: "My time has come to
strike for liberty."

This too she perceived, and was prepared for him.

He said: "Lady Charlotte, I feel that I must tell you...I fear that
I have been calculating rather more hopefully..." Here the pitfall of
sentiment yawned before him on a sudden. "I mean" (he struggled to avoid
it, but was at the brink in the next sentence) "--I mean, dear lady,
that I had hopes...Besworth pleased you... to offer you this..."

"With yourself?" she relieved him. A different manner in a protesting
male