‘Why not!’ He was petrified by her want of perception. ‘What could I do in such places? And she is happy where she is. She has women about her who know how to manage her. Her coming would derange my life altogether. You, who feel everybody’s difficulties, you must feel this. What am I to do with a girl of seventeen? It would be wretched for her, and it could not be any addition to my happiness.’ ‘Don’t you think too much of that,’ said Mrs. Meredith, faltering; for indeed this was not at all her way. And it was hard for her to go against those feelings on the part of her companion which, on ordinary occasions, she followed implicitly. Even for herself Cara’s presence would complicate the relations generally; but when she saw her duty, she did it, though with faltering. Everybody else had spurred and goaded her up to this duty, and she would not shrink. ‘If you are going to settle, you ought to have your child with you.’ ‘That you should dwell like this upon abstract oughts!’ said Mr. Beresford; ‘you, who are so full of understanding of personal difficulties. It is not like you. If I feel that Cara is better where she is--happier, more suitably cared for----’ ‘Still, you know when the father is settled at home his only child should be with him,’ Mrs. Meredith reiterated. She was faithful to her _consigne_. If she did not see it, other people did for whom she was the mouthpiece. But it will be perceived that those persons were right who said she was not clever. When she was not following her favourite and congenial pursuit of divining others and reflecting them in her own person, she was reduced to this helpless play of reiteration, and stuck to her one point till everybody was tired of it. Beresford was so impatient that he got up from his chair and began to pace up and down the room. ‘There is reason in all things,’ he said. ‘My house now is emphatically a bachelor house, my servants suit me, my life is arranged as I like it, or at least as I can support it best. Cara would make a revolution in everything. What should I do with her? How should I amuse her? for, of course, she would want amusement. And she is happy, quite happy, where she is; nowhere could she be so well as she is now. My aunt and my sister are wrapt up in her. Yes, yes, of course I am fond of my poor little girl; but what could I do with her? You are always so reasonable--but not here.’