‘I fear we have postponed the expedition too long,’ said Cecilia. She could have sunk with languor.
‘Too long?’ cried Colonel Halkett, mystified.
’Until too late, I mean, papa. Do you not think, Mr. Austin, that a fortnight in Rome is too short a time?’
‘Not if we make it a month, my dear Cecilia.’
‘Is not our salt air better for you? The yacht shall be fitted out.’
‘I’m a poor sailor!’
’Besides, a hasty excursion to Italy brings one’s anticipated regrets at the farewell too close to the pleasure of beholding it, for the enjoyment of that luxury of delight which I associate with the name of Italy.’
‘Why, my dear child,’ said her father, ’you were all for going, the other day.’
‘I do not remember it,’ said she. ’One plans agreeable schemes. At least we need not hurry from home so very soon after our return. We have been travelling incessantly. The cottage in Wales is not home. It is hardly fair to Mount Laurels to quit it without observing the changes of the season in our flowers and birds here. And we have visitors coming. Of course, papa, I would not chain you to England. If I am not well enough to accompany you, I can go to Louise for a few weeks.’
Was ever transparency so threadbare? Cecilia shrank from herself in contemplating it when she was alone; and Colonel Halkett put the question to Mr. Austin, saying to him privately, with no further reserve: ’It’s that fellow Beauchamp in the neighbourhood; I’m not so blind. He’ll be knocking at my door, and I can’t lock him out. Austin, would you guess it was my girl speaking? I never in my life had such an example of intoxication before me. I ’m perfectly miserable at the sight. You. know her; she was the proudest girl living. Her ideas were orderly and sound; she had a good intellect. Now she more than half defends him—a naval officer! good Lord!—for getting up in a public room to announce that he ’s a Republican, and writing heaps of mad letters to justify himself. He’s ruined in his profession: hopeless!