“Was n't it like the old fox to add this about his colleague? As if any of us cared about Kelson, or thought of him!”
“Good fortune is very selfish, I really believe,” said Nelly. “We have done nothing but talk of ourselves, our interests, and our intentions for the last four days, and the worst of it is we don't seem tired of doing so yet.”
“It would be a niggardly thing to deny us that pleasure, seeing what we have passed through to reach it,” cried Jack.
“Who 'll write to Marion with the news?” said Augustus.
“Not I,” said Jack; “or if I do it will be to sign myself 'late Sam Rogers.'”
“If George accepts the embassy chaplaincy,” said Julia, “he can convey the tidings by word of mouth.”
“To guess by his dreary face,” said Jack, “one would say he had really closed with that proposal. What's the matter, old fellow; has the general joy here not warmed your heart?”
L'Estrange, pale and red alternately, blundered out a few scarcely coherent words; and Julia, who well knew what feelings were agitating him, and how the hopes that adversity had favored might be dashed, now that a brighter fortune had dawned, came quickly to his rescue, and said, “I see what George is thinking of. George is wondering when we shall all be as happy and as united again, as we have been here, under this dear old roof.”
“But why should we not?” broke in Augustus. “I mean to keep the anniversary of our meeting here, and assemble you all every year at this place. Perhaps I have forgotten to tell you that I am the owner of the villa. I have signed the contract this morning.”
A cry of joy—almost a cheer—greeted this announcement, and Augustus went on,—