“To her friends.”
“To her friends! My dear Mr. M’Kinlay, I thought we had disposed of all that part of the case. Let us be frank—it does save so much time; for friends, read Mr. Luttrell. Now, what if he say, ‘No; you have taken her away, and by your teaching and training unfitted her for such a life as she must lead here; I cannot receive her?’”
“I did not mean Mr. Luttrell; I really spoke of the girl’s family——”
“You are a treasure of discretion, Sir,” said Sir Within; “but permit me to observe, that the excess of caution often delays a negotiation. You say that she cannot go to Italy, and I say she can as little return to Ireland—at least, without Mr. Luttrell’s acquiescence. Now for the third course?”
“This school Sir Gervais speaks of in Paris,” said M’Kinlay, fumbling for the passage in the letter, for he was now so confused and puzzled that he was very far from feeling calm. “Here is the address—Madame Gosselin, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris. Sir Gervais thought that—with of course your approval—this would be the best course we could take. She would be well treated, well educated, cared for, and eventually qualified to be a governess—if she should not chance to marry.”
“Yes, yes,” said Sir Within, slowly, as he pondered over the other’s words, “there is much in what you say, and the remarkable fact is, that they do, very often, make admirable wives.”
Who were the “they” he referred to, as a category, M’Kinlay did not dare to inquire, but assented by a smile and a bow.
“Curious it is,” said the old man, reflectively, “to mark how generations alternate, as if it were decreed that the world should not make any distinct progress, but oscillate between vice and virtue—virtue and vice. The respectable father and the scampish son being the counterpoise for the rakish mamma and the discreet daughter.”
To what such a reflection could be thought to apply, Mr. M’Kinlay had not the vaguest conception; but it is only fair to add, that his faculties were never throughout the interview at their clearest.
“My chief difficulty is this, Sir,” said the lawyer, rising to an effort that might show he had an opinion and a will of his own; “Sir Gervais requests me to convey his daughter as far as Marseilles; he names an early day to meet us there, so that really there is very little time—I may say no time, if we must start by Monday next.”