"Yes, indeed, a most charming place," added Mrs. Dalton, dropping the Quarterly to pick up East Bourne. "A few breezes on Beachy Head will soon bring a little more colour to these pale cheeks, my dear Miss Rivers."
"But I do not—"
"And just the right time of year," said Miss Dalton. "Of course, the season is in August. But our friend Lady Maria always says— you remember, mother—she always says the very best time in East Bourne is through the autumn, when the height of the season is over. That is the season she prefers. So Miss Rivers is particularly fortunate to be going just now. Lady Maria says it is often delightful there quite on into November, and even December."
"But I am not sure—"
Hermione's pale cheeks were gaining a good deal of colour already, with the impossibility of making herself heard. She grew so vexed that tears actually rose to her eyes.
"Yes, yes, to be sure, a most enjoyable spot for young folks," Mr. Dalton broke in.
"If I were in spirits for it," Hermione murmured. She did not in the least realise that there was anything untrue, anything of acting in this. The words came naturally at the moment, and she believed that she felt what she said. Hermione was not, strictly speaking, in spirits to enjoy the proposed change. But her low spirits came mainly from a different cause than that which she wished to be understood.
The words were heard at last, and Hermione's three companions, suddenly silenced, noted the tears filling her eyes. Glances of meaning were exchanged.
"Yes, yes, to be sure," assented Mrs. Dalton. "To be sure, my dear; we were forgetting—"
"A gay sea-side place—after what I have gone through so lately," Hermione almost whispered. "My cousins' wish—but—"