"Surely I am, though!"
"And, in the name of all that is wonderful, for what? You would not tell me that such a madcap as you are can care to go poking about in those damp underground passages, listening to an old Cardinal's fabulous legends of this Roman nonsense? A little poetic association with the past is very telling for them, no doubt; but you are never going for all this, Helena?"
"No, not I! But, my precious matter-of-fact sister, can you not imagine any one going to the Catacombs for any other motive than that of seeing them and listening to tiresome old histories? 'Poking about in those damp underground passages,' as you most irreverently designate visiting the last home of the saints, the persecuted, the martyrs!"
Mary could not help smiling as Helena went on with mock gravity. "Venturing to repeat your profane mode of speaking, my dear Mary, I beg to say that 'poking about in those damp underground passages' might be made very pleasant indeed, and one might hear there something far more agreeable than the twaddling of a reverend monsignore."
"Pray be sensible, if you can, Helena. I suppose you have discovered that Mr. Caulfield is to be of the party, and that is, no doubt, your motive for going."
"With your usual wisdom you have divined it, O 'most potent, grave, and reverend' lady!"
"How silly you are! But I am sure I don't know why you have told me your motive for going, since you know it is one of which I cannot approve. It would be mistaken kindness, indeed, were I to encourage you in this wild fancy which you have taken for Mr. Caulfield. You will not be allowed to marry him, therefore all these meetings will but make you unhappy!"
"Most admirably reasoned! Only you seem to ignore the existence of that tender passion called love, which is not remarkable for its obedience to reason, as far as I know. I love Harry Caulfield, so the mischief—if mischief it be—is done; therefore, whether I am allowed to marry him or not, it is too late to think of saving me from unhappiness by preventing me from seeing him. Now listen to me, Mary, and I will be as serious as you like; I repeat I love him,—not perhaps in the way that Flora Adair——" (a strange expression passed over Mary's face as this name was uttered; Helena's quick eye caught it, but she continued without making any observation) "and her friend Mina Blake talk about,—a feeling into which everything is merged, concentrated into the one thought, can I make him happy? How amused I have been when listening to them; you know they say that a woman's happiness consists not in the least in doing what she likes, but in the happiness of the man she loves! Where they learnt such notions I cannot conceive!"
"Nor can I see what their ideas on the subject can have to do with your reasons for making me your confidant, which was what I wished to know."
"Nothing on earth, most lawyer-like of young ladies; but I could not help telling you en passant how Flora and her friend talk about love." Had Helena really no other motive for bringing in Flora's name?