“Sometimes,” said Hamerton, after a pause, “there are things going on which are more important than a man’s business, though perhaps they don’t show.”
There was something in the tone with which he said this which called Rosalind out of her dreams. She had heard them talking before, but not with any interest; now she was roused, though she could scarcely tell why.
“That is all very well for you, Roland, who have no business. Oh! I know you’re a barrister, but as you never did anything at the bar— A man, when he has money of his own and does not live by his profession, can please himself, I suppose; but when his profession is all he has, nothing, you know, ought to be more important than that. And if his family keep him from his work, it is not right. A mother ought to know better, and even a sister; they ought not to keep him, if it is they who are keeping him. Now, do you think, putting yourself in their place, that it is right?”
“I can’t fancy myself in the place of Rivers’s mother or sister,” said Roland, with a laugh.
“Oh, but I can, quite! and I could not do such a thing; for my own pleasure injure him in his career! Oh, no, no! And if it was any one else,” said Aunt Sophy, “I do think it would be nearly criminal. If it was a girl, for instance. Girls are the most thoughtless creatures on the face of the earth; they don’t understand such things; they don’t really know. I suppose, never having had anything to do themselves, they don’t understand. But if a girl should have so little feeling, and play with a man, and keep him from his work, when perhaps it may be ruinous to him,” said Mrs. Lennox—when she was not contradicted, she could express herself with some force, though if once diverted from her course she had little strength to stand against opposition—“I cannot say less than that it would be criminal,” she said.
“Is any one keeping Mr. Rivers from his work?” said Rosalind, suddenly, out of her corner, which made Mrs. Lennox start.
“Dear me, are you there, Rosalind? I thought you had gone away” (which we fear was not quite true). “Keeping Mr. Rivers, did you say? I am sure, my dear, I don’t know. I think something must be detaining him. I am sure he did not mean to stay so long when he first came here.”
“But perhaps he knows best himself, Aunt Sophy, don’t you think?” Rosalind said, rising up with youthful severity and coming forward into the ruddy light.
“Oh, yes, my dear, I have no doubt he does,” Mrs. Lennox said, faltering; “I was only saying—”
“You were blaming some one; you were saying it was his mother’s fault, or perhaps some girl’s fault. I think he is likely to know much better than any girl; it must be his own fault if he is wasting his time. I shouldn’t think he was wasting his time. He looks as if he knew very well what he was about—better than a girl, who, as you were saying, seldom has anything to do.”