‘And her head so much turned as to ruin all the sense there may be in it! I hate the thought of it, and of what is to become of Arthur when he wakes from his trance.’
‘He will find that he has a sister,’ said Jane, who had learnt that this was the secret of consolation; and, accordingly, a softer ‘Poor Arthur!’ followed.
‘And will you write, dear Theodora?’
‘I don’t promise. I hardly ever write letters.’
‘And you will not send your love to poor Georgina?’
‘I forgive her for having pained and disappointed me. I hope she will be happy, but I am very much afraid she has not gone the right way to be so.’
‘Am I to tell her so?’
‘I dare say you will, but don’t call it my message. If she makes a good use of her means, I shall try to forget the way she obtained them.’
‘I only hope, with your notions, that you will not get into a scrape yourself. I’m a little afraid of that curate.’
‘We both know better,’ said Theodora.