"Admit that your science does not accomplish everything."
"No: it was presumptuous—beyond a certain point," said the baronet, meaning deep things.
Lady Blandish eyed him. "Ah me!" she sighed, "if we would always be true to our own wisdom!"
"You are very singular to-night, Emmeline." Sir Austin stopped his walk in front of her.
In truth, was she not unjust? Here was an offending son freely forgiven. Here was a young woman of humble birth, freely accepted into his family and permitted to stand upon her qualities. Who would have done more—or as much? This lady, for instance, had the case been hers, would have fought it. All the people of position that he was acquainted with would have fought it, and that without feeling it so peculiarly. But while the baronet thought this, he did not think of the exceptional education his son had received. He, took the common ground of fathers, forgetting his System when it was absolutely on trial. False to his son it could not be said that he had been false to his System he was. Others saw it plainly, but he had to learn his lesson by and by.
Lady Blandish gave him her face; then stretched her hand to the table, saying, "Well! well!" She fingered a half-opened parcel lying there, and drew forth a little book she recognized. "Ha! what is this?" she said.
"Benson returned it this morning," he informed her. "The stupid fellow took it away with him—by mischance, I am bound to believe."
It was nothing other than the old Note-book. Lady Blandish turned over the leaves, and came upon the later jottings.
She read: "A maker of Proverbs—what is he but a narrow mind with the mouthpiece of narrower?"
"I do not agree with that," she observed. He was in no humour for argument.