“I must send an answer as soon as possible,” he was saying; “I can’t keep B——­ waiting for a month while I am making up my mind; I will speak to Maria this evening.”

“It would be as well,” answered Mrs. Vavasour; “she ought to be told at once.  But must an answer be sent immediately?  I think you will see that it will be useless to hurry Maria for a decision; she will want time for consideration.”

“She shall have any reasonable time,” he replied shortly; “but that is why I shall speak at once—­she can think it over.”

“And if you have in a measure made up your mind,” continued her sister, “she will be better pleased, I am sure; she will wish in some sort to be guided by your wishes.”

“That is just what I am anxious to avoid,” he answered impatiently.  “I do not desire to influence her in any way; I would not for the world that she should make any sacrifice on my account, and then be miserable for ever after.”

“My dear Horace, you do not suppose Maria——­”

“My dear Georgie, I know what Maria is, and you must allow me to take my own way.”

He began to stride up and down the room with his hands in his pockets, Madelon watching him in silence.  Presently he began again:—­

“I know what Molly is; if she imagined that I wanted to go to this place, she would say ‘Go,’ without thinking of herself for a moment; but ten to one, when we got there, she would be for ever regretting England, and hating the society, and the mode of life, and everything, and everybody; and it would be very natural—­she has never been abroad, and knows nothing of foreign life and manners.”

“Then you do not mean to go?” said Mrs. Vavasour.

“I have not said so,” he answered—­“I shall put the matter calmly before Maria; tell her what I think are the reasons for and against, and leave her to decide.  I suppose she cannot complain of that.”

“I do not imagine for a moment she will complain,” replied Mrs. Vavasour; “but I think she will want your judgment to help her.”

He only muttered something in answer to this; and Madelon asked in a low voice, “Is it about going abroad that Monsieur Horace is doubting?”

“Yes, he told you about it, did he not?” said Mrs. Vavasour.  “I hope he may decide to go—­it would be the very thing for him.”

“Do you think so?” said Graham, who had overheard this last remark; and turning to Madelon with rather a melancholy smile, “Listen to the description, Madelon, and tell me what you think of it—­a little town on the shores of the Mediterranean, sheltered on every side by hills, so that all the winter is spring, and flowers bloom all the year round.  The gardens are full of pomegranate and orange trees, and the hills are terraced with vineyards, and covered with olives and chestnuts everywhere else.  Do you think that that sounds inviting?”

“A great deal too good to be true,” said Mrs. Vavasour, laughing.  “I never believe thoroughly in these earthly paradises.”  But Madelon did not laugh; her eyes lighted up, her cheeks glowed.