There really are people like this in the world--of whom, too, one can prophesy, with tolerable certainty, how they will behave in any given situation.
Certainly, Lord Talgarth was behaving in character now.

He had received meek Mr.Mackintosh's deferential telegram, occupying several sheets, informing him that his son had held an auction of all his belongings, and had proposed to take to the roads; asking, also, for instructions as to how to deal with him.

And the hint of defiant obstinacy on the part of Frank--the fact, indeed, that he had taken his father at his word--had thrown that father into a yet more violent fit of passion.
Jenny had heard him spluttering and exclamatory with anger as she came into the hall (the telegram had but that instant been put into his hands), and even now the footmen, still a little pale, were exchanging winks in the hall outside; while Clarkson, his valet, and the butler stood in high and subdued conference a little way off.
What Lord Talgarth would really have wished was that Frank should have written to him a submissive--even though a disobedient--letter, telling him that he could not forego his convictions, and preparing to assume the _role_ of a Christian martyr.

For he could have sneered at this, and after suitable discipline forgiven its writer more or less.

Of course, he had never intended for one instant that his threats should really be carried out; but the situation--to one of Lord Talgarth's temperament--demanded that the threats should be made, and that Frank should pretend to be crushed by them.