"We thought you meant to forsake us altogether this evening," Fulvia remarked to Mrs. Browning.
"No, dear. Padre is so unwell to-day—he has that pain again, and it depresses him," was the under-toned answer. "But he promised to come in for a little while. It is better for him, I am sure—less dull."
"Better for you too."
"I don't think that matters. I wish anything could be done to touch this sad depression," as again, in response to some words of Anice, sounded the heavy sigh. "We have been talking about a little trip abroad. Perhaps it might do him good."
"When? Not before Christmas?"
"Yes, I think so. He seems to wish it."
Others were listening besides Fulvia, and a chorus of exclamations sounded. "Now, mother!" "Go abroad before Christmas!" "How about Nigel?" this was Fulvia's voice.
"Mother, you don't really mean it?" from Anice.
"Why, mother!" Daisy's rounded eyes suiting the tone of her second utterance. "You must have forgotten about Fulvia's birthday—Fulvia's coming of age."
"Hush, hush!" Mrs. Browning said nervously. She did not in the least know why her husband disliked any allusion to Fulvia's twenty-first birthday, but she knew that he did dislike it. His sudden movement was not lost upon her.