CHAPTER XXVIII.
PROFESSOR THEOBALD had been engaged, for the last ten minutes, in instructing Joseph Fleming and a few stragglers, among whom was Dodge, in the characteristics of ancient architecture. He was pointing out the fine Norman window of the south transept, Joseph nodding wearily, Dodge leaning judicially on his broom and listening with attention. Joseph, as Lady Engleton remarked, was evidently bearing the Normans a bitter grudge for making interesting arches. The Professor seemed to have no notion of tempering the wind of his instruction to the shorn lambs of his audience.
“I can’t understand why he does not join us,” said Lady Engleton. “It must be nearly luncheon time. However, it doesn’t much matter, as everyone seems to be up here. I wonder,” she went on after a pause, “what the bride would think if she had heard our conversation this morning!”
“Probably she would recognize many a half-thought of her own,” said Hadria.
Lady Engleton shook her head.
“They alarm me, all these ideas. For myself, I feel bound to accept the decision of wise and good men, who have studied social questions deeply.”
Personal feeling had finally overcome her desire to fight off the influence of tradition.
“I do not feel competent to judge in a matter so complex, and must be content to abide by the opinions of those who have knowledge and experience.”
Lady Engleton thus retreated hastily behind cover. That was a strategic movement always available in difficulties, and it left one’s companion in speculation alone in the open, arrogantly sustaining an eagle-gaze in the sun’s face. The advantages of feminine humility were obvious. One could come out for a skirmish and then run for shelter, in awkward moments. No woman ought to venture out on the bare plain without a provision of the kind.