"You needn't be jealous, my dear. He would not have told me if I had not dragged it out of him. I am not sure that he knew it himself half-an-hour ago."
Julia could well believe this.
"He said he was not going to be hauled to Brighton, for he detested the place—a great overgrown imitation of London. And I said I was not going to be hauled to Scotland, to die of ennui on the moors. So we adopted East Bourne between us as a compromise. I believe he was glad at last to consent to any thing to get rid of me. Once away, he'll not be in a hurry to come back. I shouldn't wonder if East Bourne were a stepping-stone to Paris. He is not looking well, and I told him so, and he allowed that he might be the better for a bout of sea air. So we are to write and ask about lodgings—on the Esplanade, of course. I shall be glad enough to be out of this depressing atmosphere. There's certainly something in Westford which affects one's general organisation. My complexion is growing positively yellow, and everybody looks dismal."
"Westford is counted particularly healthy," Hermione said, laying down her pen, and facing the trio.
"Places often gain false characters. It doesn't suit me."
Mrs. Trevor's patronising air of superior information was secretly exasperating to Hermione, just as Hermione's distant dignity annoyed Mrs. Trevor. Generally Hermione held studiously back from aught in the shape of argument, refusing to put herself into Mrs. Trevor's power; and this had gone on so long that she counted her own composure inviolable, and did not fear being upset. But now, for once, she was taken by surprise, shaken out of her usual line of action. The idea of leaving Westford was altogether new to her, and she could not at once resolve how to meet it. To a girl of her age, who had seen so little of the world, the prospect of a change might have come pleasantly, but all the pride of her nature rose up in arms against the manner of the announcement. Why were not her wishes to be consulted as well as Mrs. Trevor's wishes? Was it to be taken for granted that she would calmly acquiesce in whatever was arranged, without a desire or a voice in the matter? She would not condescend to ask what was meant or expected, but resentment flushed her fair cheek, and lent sharpness to the tone of her retort.
"A stranger's opinion can be worth little. Those who have lived in Westford for years know better."
"One may become acclimatised, no doubt," Mrs. Trevor answered carelessly, depositing herself and her draperies in an easy-chair. "But I should be sorry to go through the years of previous misery."
"Is East Bourne healthy, mother?" asked Mittie.
"Splendid air, Mittie. As different from this as can be imagined."