"He is his father's son," said Lady Coldenham, with stern emphasis.
"I did not know that that was any greater crime than being one's mother's son, but rather thought it a virtue," said Lord Coldenham, with a light laugh; "as to the father, I don't see much harm in him any more than in Ralph. He is a very good sort of old gentleman--rather pedantic, it is true, but not much the worse for that. Shrews, pedants, and libertines are, I suppose, necessary evils in our state of society; and as I don't approve of persecuting them, I think I had better leave this somewhat intolerant council, and amuse myself elsewhere."
As he spoke, he rose; but Lady Coldenham exclaimed, in a fierce, stern voice, "Sit down, Lord Coldenham!"
"No, indeed, dear mother," replied the young lord, "I can employ myself better. There is Robert, who is peculiarly fond of either sitting or running--which was it you did at Sedgemoor, Bob! I am too active for the one, and too idle for the other; and so, with your blessing, I will walk."
Lady Coldenham eyed him with an expression of anger, surprise, and contempt, which could hardly be described; but the young lord had chosen his part, and, though idle enough in his habits, he was resolute. His mother's look nettled him a little too, and he said, in a cool but determined tone, "In a word, dear lady and mother, I am of age, I think, and master, at least, of my own actions. I do not desire particularly to be master even of my own house, as long as it has got so much better a master in it; but I will not be here consenting to things that I disapprove and dislike, let it cost what it may."
"Hark, you, Coldenham!" cried his mother, as he moved toward the door; "a word in your ear, if you please."
He bent down his head, listening gravely; and the lady whispered something to him, gradually raising her voice till the last words became distinct and audible enough. They were, "And leave you a beggar and an outcast at a word."
"Do it!" said Lord Coldenham, with the most indifferent tone in the world, and quietly sauntered out of the room. Lady Coldenham shut her teeth tight together, and the violent emotion that was going on within might be seen by the close clinching of her beautiful white hands as they lay upon her knee; but she made no comment, and, perhaps, was sorry for the words she uttered. They had not escaped the ears of Robert Woodhall; and he might build upon them some strange expectations. But he was wisely silent; and, after a very long pause, Lady Coldenham resumed the conversation, saying, "Let us think no more of that foolish boy's caprices. You are a rational being, Robert. Tell me what you think of this case. Are we certain of getting a condemnation?"
"Really, I do not know, dear lady," he answered, and then added, with some emphasis, "that must depend upon the judge and the jury."
"They must both be taken care of," said Lady Coldenham, slowly nodding her head. "I will crave an audience of his lordship when he first arrives. He will not refuse me. You must see to the jury, Robert; and if the youth be really guilty, there surely can be no great difficulty in proving him so. Tell me, upon your honor and soul, do you really think he committed the deed?"