your instigation. Besworth was nothing to me till you cried it up. And
now I won't detain you. I know I can rely on your sense, if you will
rely on it. Good night, Bella."

As she was going a faint spark of courage revived Arabella's wits.
Seeing that she was now ready to speak, he opened the door wide, and she
kissed him and went forth, feeling driven.

But while Arabella was attempting to give a definite version of the
interview to her sisters, a message came requesting Adela to descend.
The ladies did not allow her to depart until two or three ingenuous
exclamations from her made them share her curiosity.

"Ah?" Wilfrid caught her hand as she came in. "No, I don't intend to let
it go. You may be a fine lady, but you're a rogue, you know, and a
charming one, as I hear a friend of mine has been saying. Shall I call
him out? Shall I fight him with pistols, or swords, and leave him
bleeding on the ground, because he thinks you a pretty rogue?"

Adela struggled against the blandishment of this old familiar style of
converse--part fun, part flattery--dismissed since the great idea had
governed Brookfield.

"Please tell me what you called me down for, dear?"

"To give you a lesson in sitting on chairs. 'Adela, or the Puritan
sister,' thus: you sit on the extremest edge, and your eyes peruse the
ceiling; and..."

"Oh! will you ever forget that perfectly ridiculous scene?" Adela cried