Volume Ii Part 30 (1/2)
”After a while, so he will, aunt. You 'll see what a change there will be in him at our next visit All these flatteries he meets with are too much for him; but when we come down again, you 'll see him without these distracting influences. Then bear in mind his anxieties,--he has not yet seen his family; he is eager to be at home again. I carried him off here positively in spite of himself, and on the strict pledge of only for one day.”
”One day! And do you mean that you are to go tomorrow?”
”No help for it, aunt. Tom is to be at Windsor on Sat.u.r.day. But for that, he would already have been on his way to Ireland.”
”Then there's no time to be lost. What can we do for him? He'snot rich?”
”Hasn't a s.h.i.+lling; but would reject the very shadow of such a.s.sistance.”
”Not if a step were purchased for him; without his knowledge, I mean.”
”It would be impossible that he should not know it.”
”But surely there is some way of doing it A handsome sum to commemorate his achievement might be subscribed. I would begin it with a thousand pounds.”
”He'd not accept it. I know him thoroughly. There's only one road to him through which he would not deem a favor a burden.”
”And what of that?”
”A kindness to his sister. I wish you saw her, aunt!”
”Is she like him?”
”Like him? Yes; but very much better-looking. She's singularly handsome, and such a girl! so straightforward and so downright It is a positive luxury to meet her after all the tiresome conventionalities of the every-day young lady.”
”Shall I ask her here?”
”Oh, if you would, aunt!--if you only would!”
”That you may fall in love with her, I suppose?”
”No, aunt, that is done already.”
”I think, sir, I might have been apprised of this attachment!” said she, bridling.
”I didn't know it myself, aunt, till I was close to the Cape. I thought it a mere fancy as we dropped down Channel; grew more thoughtful over it in the Bay of Biscay; began to believe it as we discovered St. Helena; and came back to England resolved to tell you the whole truth, and ask you, at least, to see her and know her.”
”So I will, then. I 'll write and invite her here.”
”You 're the best and kindest aunt in Christendom!” said he, rus.h.i.+ng over and kissing her.
”I'm not going to let you read it, sir,” said she, with a smile. ”If she show it to you, she may. Otherwise it is a matter between ourselves.”
”Be it entirely as you wish, aunt.”
”And if all this goes hopefully on,” said she, after a pause, ”is Aunt Dorothea to be utterly forgotten? No more visits here,--no happy summer evenings,--no more merry Christmases?”
”Nay, aunt, I mean to be your neighbor. That cottage you have often offered me, near the rocks, I 'll not refuse it again,--that is, if you tempt me once more.”
”It is yours, and the farm along with it. Go to bed now, and leave me to write my note, which will require-some thought and reflection.”
”I know you 'll do it well. I know none who could equal you in such a task.”