“Remember,” said Adela, “it is you that run away from us, not we from you.”
Soft chidings of this description were the only reproaches for her naughty conduct. She seemed contrite very still and timid, since that night of adventure. The ladies were glad to observe it, seeing that it lent her an air of refinement, and proved her sensible to correction.
At last Mr. Pole broke the silence. He had returned from business, humming and rubbing his hands, like one newly primed with a suggestion that was the key of a knotty problem. Observant Adela said: “Have you seen Wilfrid, papa?”
“Saw him in the morning,” Mr. Pole replied carelessly.
“By the way, what do you think of our law of primogeniture?” Mr. Pole addressed him.
He replied with the usual allusion to a basis of aristocracy.
“Well, it's the English system,” said Mr. Pole. “That's always in its favour at starting. I'm Englishman enough to think that. There ought to be an entail of every decent bit of property, eh?”
It was observed that Mr. Barrett reddened as he said, “I certainly think that a young man should not be subject to his father's caprice.”
“Father's caprice! That isn't common. But, if you're founding a family, you must entail.”
“We agree, sir, from my point of view, and from yours.”
“Knits the family bond, don't you think? I mean, makes the trunk of the tree firm. It makes the girls poor, though!”
Mr. Barrett saw that he had some confused legal ideas in his head, and that possibly there were personal considerations in the background; so he let the subject pass.
When the guest had departed, Mr. Pole grew demonstrative in his paternal caresses. He folded Adela in one arm, and framed her chin in his fingers: marks of affection dear to her before she had outgrown them.
“So!” he said, “you've given up Besworth, have you?”
At the name, Arabella and Cornelia drew nearer to his chair.
“Given up Besworth, papa? It is not we who have given it up,” said Adela.
“Yes, you have; and quite right too. You say, 'What's the use of it, for that's a sort of thing that always goes to the son.'”
“You suppose, papa, that we indulge in ulterior calculations?” came from Cornelia.
“Well, you see, my love!--no, I don't suppose it at all. But to buy a place and split it up after two or three years--I dare say they wouldn't insure me for more, that's nonsense. And it seems unfair to you, as you must think--”