“But surely, mother, you cannot blame us for not wishing to go and live in the country.”
“No, Edward, I should as soon think of blaming poor blind Billy, because he cannot see. Unhappily you have been entirely confined to town, and are ignorant of the pleasures of the country. I only blame you for thinking that your father and I would voluntarily do any thing to lessen your innocent pleasures.”
“Oh, mother!” exclaimed Edward, “we did not think any thing about that.”
“Well, my dear, perhaps I am wrong in expecting you to think—reflection is the habit of a riper age than yours. You must trust me for one year, and at the expiration of that period, you and your sister shall decide whether we return to town or remain in the country.”
“Oh, mother! how very good you are. One year—well, one year won't be so very long—only think, Julia, in one year we shall be back again.”
“Not quite so fast, Edward,” said his mother; “you are not to decide till the end of the year.”
“Oh, I know that, mama, but of course we shall decide to come back.”
Mrs. Sackville looked incredulous, and smiled at his childish confidence in his own constancy. “I see, mother, you don't believe me; but of course, Julia and I can't wish to live away from every thing that is amusing.”
“Come, Julia, your brother has taken it upon himself to be spokesman, but let me hear from you, what are the amusements that you so dread to leave.”
“Why, in the first place, mother, there is our dancing-school: every time I go to take my lesson, Mr. Dubois says, ‘Pauvre, Miss Julie, point de cotillon; point de gavots in de country; ah, qu'il est sauvage—de country.’”