it! Tell me--I am bewildered. I feel that we are cheated in some way.
Oh! tell me something clear."

Arabella said calmingly: "Emilia is with papa. She wrote to Mr. Powys.
Whether she did rightly or not we have not now to inquire. I believe
that she thought it right."

"Entertain friends!" interjected Adela. "But papa cannot possibly mean
that we are to go through--to--the fete on Besworth Lawn, Bella! It's in
two days from this dreadful day."

"Papa has mentioned it to Mr. Powys; he desires us not to postpone it.
We..." Arabella's voice broke piteously.

"Oh! but this is torture!" cried Adela, with a deplorable vision of the
looking-glass rising before her, as she felt the tears sting her eyelids.
"This cannot be! No father would...not loving us as dear papa does! To
be quiet! to sit and be gay! to flaunt at a fete! Oh, mercy! mercy!
Tell me--he left us quite well--no one could have guessed. I remember he
looked at me from the carriage window. Tell me--it must be some moral
shock--what do you attribute it to? Wilfrid cannot be the guilty one.
We have been only too compliant to papa's wishes about that woman. Tell
me what you think it can be!"

A voice said, "Money!"

Which of the sisters had spoken Adela did not know. It was bitter enough
that one could be brought to utter the thing, even if her ideas were so
base as to suspect it. The tears now came dancing over her under-lids
like triumphing imps. "Money!" echoed through her again and again.