wistfully.

Their converse was not happy and deeply intimate. Philosophy did not
seem to catch her mind; and fine phrases encountered a rueful assent,
more flattering to their grandeur than to their influence.

Days went by. Richard did not present himself. Sir Austin's pitch of
self-command was to await the youth without signs of impatience.

Seeing this, the lady told him her fears for Richard, and mentioned the
rumour of him that was about.

"If," said the baronet, "this person, his wife, is what you paint her, I
do not share your fears for him. I think too well of him. If she is one
to inspire the sacredness of that union, I think too well of him. It is
impossible."

The lady saw one thing to be done.

"Call her to you," she said. "Have her with you at Raynham. Recognize
her. It is the disunion and doubt that so confuses him and drives him
wild. I confess to you I hoped he had gone to her. It seems not. If
she is with you his way will be clear. Will you do that?"

Science is notoriously of slow movement. Lady Blandish's proposition was
far too hasty for Sir Austin. Women, rapid by nature, have no idea of
science.

"We shall see her there in time, Emmeline. At present let it be between
me and my son."