"
Mrs. Pallinson gave a little shriek of horror on hearing this allusion,
and protested against so profane a use of the gospel.
"But the gospel was meant to be our guide in common things, wasn't it,
Mrs. Pallinson? However, there's not the least use in your being angry;
for I mean to do what I can for Mr. Saltram, and there's no one in the
world could turn me from my intention."
"Indeed!" cried the elder lady, indignantly; "and when he recovers you
mean to marry him, I daresay. You will be weak enough to throw away your
fortune upon a profligate and a spendthrift, a man who is certain to make
any woman miserable."
And hereupon there arose what Sheridan calls "a very pretty quarrel"
between the two ladies, which went very near to end in Mrs. Pallinson's
total withdrawal from Cavendish-square. Very nearly, but not quite, to
that agreeable consummation did matters proceed; for, on the very verge
of the final words which could have spoken the sentence of separation,
Mrs. Pallinson was suddenly melted, and declared that nothing, no
outrage of her feelings--"and heaven knows how they have been trodden on
this day," the injured matron added in parenthesis--should induce her to
desert her dearest Adela. And so there was a hollow peace patched up, and
Mrs. Branston felt that the blessings of freedom, the delightful relief
of an escape from Pallinsonian influences, were not yet to be hers.
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