the
public scourge. The wrong committed was (translated out of Fine
Shades), that she had made love to her sister's lover. In the original
tongue--she had innocently played with the sacred fire of a strange
affection; a child in the temple!--Our penitent child took a keen
pinching pleasure in dictating words for Arabella to employ toward
Edward.

And then, recurring to her interview with Wilfrid, it struck her:
"Suppose that, after all, Money!..." Yes, Mammon has acted Hymen before
now. Nothing else explained Mrs. Chump; so she thought, in one clear
glimpse. Inveterate sentimental habit smeared the picture with two
exclamations--"Impossible!" and "Papa!" I desire it to be credited that
these simple interjections absolutely obscured her judgement. Little
people think either what they are made to think, or what they choose to
think; and the education of girls is to make them believe that facts are
their enemies-a naughty spying race, upon whom the dogs of Pudeur are to
be loosed, if they surprise them without note of warning. Adela silenced
her suspicion, easily enough; but this did not prevent her taking a
measure to satisfy it. Petting her papa one evening, she suddenly asked
him for ninety pounds.

"Ninety!" said Mr. Pole, taking a sharp breath. He was as composed as
possible.

"Is that too much, papa, darling?"

"Not if you want it--not if you want it, of course not."

"You seemed astonished."

"The sum! it's an odd sum for a girl to want. Ten, twenty, fifty--a
hundred; but you never hear of ninety, never! unless it's to pay a debt;
and I have all the bills, or your aunt has them."

"Well, papa, if it excites you, I will do without it. It is for a
charity, chiefly."

Mr. Pole fumbled in his pocket, muttering, "No money here--cheque-book
in town. I'll give it you," he said aloud, "to-morrow morning--morrow
morning, early."

"That will do, papa;" and Adela relieved him immediately by shooting far
away from the topic.

The ladies retired early to their hall of council in the bedchamber of
Arabella, and some time after midnight Cornelia went to her room; but
she could not sleep. She affected, in her restlessness, to think that
her spirits required an intellectual sedative, so she went down to
the library for a book; where she skimmed many--a fashion that may be
recommended, for assisting us to a sense of sovereign superiority
to authors, and also of serene contempt for all mental difficulties.
Fortified in