‘And which show their belief in me so nobly,’ said Lady William, this time permitting herself to laugh. ‘The noble family to which you belong,’ repeated Mr. Plowden with a little irritation, ‘will be very much benefited by this money. That nice young Lord Will as good as said so: and your own daughter, Emily, if all goes well, and we are able to establish your rights----’ ‘If!----’ she cried, with a flash of her eyes which seemed for the moment to set the room aflame. ‘You know what I mean. I at least have no doubt what your rights are: the question now is what is the best thing to do.’ ‘Yes,’ said Lady William, ‘we are in front of something definite at last. I have done little but think about it, as you may suppose, ever since you brought me that crushing news: and it seems to me that there are several ways that are open to us: the first----’ ‘Emily,’ said the Rector, ‘by far the best, and first step to take, in my opinion, is to consult Perowne--which we should have done long ago.’ ‘What could Mr. Perowne do? He could not rebuild the chapel and restore the books and bring back poor Mr. Gepps to life again. He might put my answer into formal words, but that is quite unnecessary. I have not the least inclination to consult Mr. Perowne----’ ‘Still, he must know how such things are managed better than we can do,’ murmured the Rector. ‘Such things--what things? You speak as if this was a common case.’ ‘No, no, Emily, no, no----’ ‘When it is, perhaps, such a case as never occurred before,’ she said. ‘I can answer these men formally to their questions, but to him I should have to go into the whole matter, explaining everything from the first step to the last. No, I will not ask Mr. Perowne for his opinion,’ she said. Her countenance, naturally so soft in colour, was suffused with a sudden flush. ‘Anything but that,’ she repeated, in almost an angry tone. It is so difficult to be purely business-like in matters where men and women are concerned. Mr. Perowne, the ‘man of business’ employed by the old Rector of Watcham, the father of Emily Plowden--had taken upon him to admire that young lady, and to make certain overtures which were not received graciously in the days that were gone. Lady William would rather have died than disclose all the circumstances of her marriage, as well as the possible doubt that might be thrown upon it, to her former lover. It was no figure of speech to say this; she would rather have died. But to her brother it all seemed very foolish, and to show an arrogant confidence in her own judgment which he did not share. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘of course, it is your own business, and I cannot interfere with you, Emily: but that lawyer should meet lawyer is surely a much better way than that you should think you could encounter Messrs. Fox and Round--who are, of course, experienced in all sorts of villainy--in your own strength.’