Adela, in her eagerness to plead, quite forgot (or perhaps she had
never known) that with a certain order of men it is never wise to
prefer a request immediately before dinner. She was eager, too, to
speak at once; a fear, which she would not allow to become definite,
drove her upon the undertaking without delay. Meeting Richard on the
stairs she begged him to come to her room.
'What is it?' he asked with small ceremony, as soon as the door
closed behind him.
She mastered her voice, and spoke with a sweet clearness of advocacy
which should have moved his heart to proud and noble obeisance.
Mutimer was not very accessible to such emotions.
'It's like the fellow's impertinence,' he said, 'to send his
children to you. I'm rather surprised you let them stay after what I
had told you. Certainly I shall not overlook it. The thing's
finished I it's no good talking about it.'
The fear had passed, but the coldness about her heart was more
deadly. For a moment it seemed as if she could not bring herself to
utter another word; she drew apart, she could not raise her face,
which was beautiful in marble pain. But there came a rush of such
hot anguish as compelled her to speak again. Something more than the
fate of that poor family was at stake. Is not the quality of mercy
indispensable to true nobleness? Had she voiced her very thought,
Adela would have implored him to exalt himself in her eyes, to do a
good deed which cost him some little effort over himself.
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