Blair had mismanaged his own affairs so beautifully that this sentiment was peculiarly absurd coming from him. He glanced at Elizabeth and saw something like a half-smile upon her face. She said nothing, but her silence was eloquent. Blair wished then for the thousandth time that Elizabeth would show her displeasure as other women did--with tears and unguarded words and reproaches, or even as Mrs. Shapleigh did. “I believe,” she said, after a long and painful pause, “that if the dead woman had her choice she would be very willing for Lewis Pryor to have the money, because Richard Skelton loves him so, and because she loved Richard Skelton so. But I am afraid--I am afraid--it has just occurred to me--that she would detest the idea of our having it, because Richard Skelton hates us so. And there cannot be any blessing attached to money that comes in that way.” “Damme!” cried Blair rudely. Elizabeth rose at once. Like him, she was extremely dainty in her ideas of behaviour, and the only sort of henpecking she ever visited upon Blair was the strict account she held him to as regarded his manners to her, which, however, Blair was quite ready to accord usually. Even now he felt immediate remorse, and held out his hand. “Forgive me,” he said; “but it seems to me, Elizabeth, that we are saying very odd and uncomfortable things to each other to-night.” Elizabeth submitted to be drawn to him, and even to rest her head again upon his shoulder; but the quarrel between husband and wife had to be fought out as much as if they were a thousand miles apart. Blair tried some of his old flattery on her. “You know I could not forbear any triumph over Skelton--and you know why. I want the money, but I want revenge, too; and revenge is a much more gentlemanly vice than avarice, as vices go. However, you never saw a man in your life who was indifferent to money.” “Yes, I have--Mr. Conyers.” “Pooh--a parson!” “And Lewis Pryor. Mr. Bulstrode says he believes the boy will actually fight against being made Richard Skelton’s heir, so much more does he value respectable parentage than money.” “Pooh--a boy!” “And I assure you, that many things might make _me_ regret we have that money, if it comes.” “Pshaw--a woman!” “It may be that only parsons, boys, and women are indifferent to money; but if my son showed--as I hope he would--the same jealous solicitude for his honour and mine that Lewis Pryor does for his and his mother’s, I should indeed be proud of him. Fancy,” she said, raising herself and looking at Blair with luminous eyes, “the bribe of a great fortune being offered to Hilary if he would cast shame on his mother! And would I not rather see him dead before my eyes than yielding?” Blair mumbled something about not being parallel cases. “Then imagine yourself--all Richard Skelton’s fortune yours”--Elizabeth waved her hands expressively--“all--all, if you will only agree that your mother was an unworthy woman.”