om of a
family is the most unrestful and disturbing place in existence, from
which it is well to have a personal refuge and means of escape. The
Perpetual Curate gave himself a little shake, and drew a long breath,
as he emerged from one green door in Grange Lane and betook himself to
another. He shook himself clear of all the Wentworth perplexities, all
the family difficulties and doubts, and betook himself into the
paradise which was altogether his own, and where there were no
conflicting interests or differences of opinion. He was in such a
hurry to get there that he did not pay any attention to the general
aspect of Grange Lane, or to the gossips who were gathered round
Elsworthy's door: all that belonged to a previous stage of existence.
At present he was full of the grand discovery, boldly stated by his
brother Jack--"The man who gets his own way is the man who _takes_
it." It was not an elevated doctrine, or one that had hitherto
commended itself specially to the mind of the Perpetual Curate; but he
could not help thinking of his father's pathetic reliance upon Jack's
advice as a man of the world, as he laid up in his mind the prodigal's
maxim, and felt, with a little thrill of excitement, that he was about
to act on it; from which manner of stating the case Mr Wentworth's
friends will perceive that self-will had seized upon him in the worst
form; for he was not going boldly up to the new resolution with his
eyes open, but had resigned himself to the tide, which was gradually
rising in one united flux of love, pride, impatience, sophistry, and
inclination; which he watched with a certain passive content, knowing
that the stormy current would carry him away.

Mr Wentworth, however, reckoned without his host, as is now and then
the case with most men, Perpetual Curates included. He walked into the
other drawing-room, which was occupied only by two ladies, where the
lamp was burning softly on the little table in the corner, and the
windows, half open, admitted the fragrant air, the perfumed breath and
stillness and faint inarticulate noises of the night. Since the visit
of Wodehouse in the morning, which had driven Lucy into her first fit
of passion, an indescribable change had come over the house, which had
now returned to the possession of its former owners, and looked again
like home. It was very quiet in the familiar room which Mr Wentworth
knew so well, for it was only when excited by events "beyond their
cont