how that they had their troubles; but her
statement made it clear that the servants of Brookfield were peculiarly
favoured servants, as it was their mistress's pride to make them.
Eventually Adela consented to drink some sparkling light wine; and being
thirsty she drank eagerly, and her tongue was loosed, insomuch that she
talked of things as one who had never been a blessed inhabitant of the
kingdom of Fine Shades. She spoke of 'Cornelia's chances;' of 'Wilfrid's
headstrong infatuation--or worse;' and of 'Papa's position,' remarking
that she could both laugh and cry.

Arabella, glad to see her refreshed, was pained by her rampant tone; and
when Adela, who had fallen into one of her reflective 'long-shot' moods,
chanced to say, "What a number of different beings there are in the
world!" her reply was, "I was just then thinking we are all less unlike
than we suppose."

"Oh, my goodness!" cried Adela. "What! am I at all--at all--in the
remotest degree--like that creature we have got rid of?"

The negative was not decisively enunciated or immediate; that is, it did
not come with the vehemence and volume that could alone have satisfied
Adela's expectation.

The "We are all of one family" was an offensive truism, of which Adela
might justly complain.

That night the ladies received their orders from Wilfrid--they were to
express no alarm before their father as to the state of his health, or
to treat him ostensibly as an invalid; they were to marvel publicly at
Mrs. Chump's continued absence, and a letter requesting her to return
was to be written. At the sign of an expostulation, Wilfrid smote them
down by saying that the old man's life hung on a thread, and it was for
them to cut it or not.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Lady Charlotte was too late for Emilia, when she went forth to her to
speak for Wilfrid. She found the youth Braintop resting heavily against
a tree, muttering to himself that he had no notion where he was, as
an excuse for his stationary posture, while the person he presumed he
should have detained was being borne away. Near him a scrap of paper lay
on the ground, struck out of darkness by long slips of light from the
upper windows. Thinking this might be something purposely dropped, she
took possession of it; but a glance subsequently showed her that the
writing was too fervid for a female hand. "Or does the girl write in
that way?" she thought. She soon decided that it was Wilfrid who had
undone her work