Thus the ladies of Brookfield were led on to be more serious concerning Besworth than they had thought of being, and began to feel that their honour was pledged to purchase this surpassing family seat.  In a household where every want is supplied, and money as a topic utterly banished, it is not surprising that they should have had imperial views.

Adela was Wilfrid’s favoured correspondent.  She described to him gaily the struggle with their papa.  “But, if you care for Besworth, you may calculate on it.—­Or is it only for our sakes, as I sometimes think?—­ Besworth is won.  Nothing but the cost of the place (to be considered you know!) could withhold it from us; and of that papa has not uttered a syllable, though he conjures up every possible objection to a change of abode, and will not (perhaps, poor dear, cannot) see what we intend doing in the world.  Now, you know that rich men invariably make the question of the cost their first and loudest outcry.  I know that to be the case.  They call it their blood.  Papa seems indifferent to this part of the affair.  He does not even allude to it.  Still, we do not progress.  It is just possible that the Tinleys have an eye on beautiful Besworth.  Their own place is bad enough, but good enough for them.  Give them Besworth, and they will sit upon the neighbourhood.  We shall be invaded by everything that is mean and low, and a great chance will be gone for us.  I think I may say, for the county.  The country?  Our advice is, that you write to papa one of your cleverest letters.  We know, darling, what you can do with the pen as well as the sword.  Write word that you have written.”

Wilfrid’s reply stated that he considered it unadviseable that he should add his voice to the request, for the present.

The ladies submitted to this quietly until they heard from their father one evening at dinner that he had seen Wilfrid in the city.

“He doesn’t waste his time like some young people I know,” said Mr. Pole, with a wink.

“Papa; is it possible?” cried Adela.

“Everything’s possible, my dear.”

“Lady Charlotte?”

“There is a Lady Charlotte.”

“Who would be Lady Charlotte still, whatever occurred!”

Mr. Pole laughed.  “No, no.  You get nothing out of me.  All I say is, be practical.  The sun isn’t always shining.”

He appeared to be elated with some secret good news.

“Have you been over to Besworth, the last two or three days?” he asked.

The ladies smiled radiantly, acknowledging Wilfrid’s wonderful persuasive powers, in their hearts.

“No, papa; we have not been,” said Adela.  “We are always anxious to go, as I think you know.”

The merchant chirped over his glass.  “Well, well!  There’s a way.”

“Straight?”

“Over a gate; ha, ha!”

His gaiety would have been perplexing, but for the allusion to Lady Charlotte.