“Margaret will either be married, or want constant care. Flora, I will not let myself be drawn from them.”
“You may think so now; but it would be for their real good to relieve papa of any of us. If we were all to think as you do, how should we live? I don’t know—for papa told me there will be barely ten thousand pounds, besides the houses, and what will that be among ten? I am not talking of yourself, but think of the others!”
“I know papa will not be happy without me, and I will not leave him,” repeated Ethel, not answering the argument.
Flora changed her ground, and laughed. “We are getting into the heroics,” she said, “when it would be very foolish to break up our plans, only because we have found a pleasant cousin. There is nothing serious in it, I dare say. How silly of us to argue on such an idea!”
Meta came in before Flora could say more, but Ethel, with burning cheeks, repeated, “It will be safer!”
Ethel had, meantime, been dressed by her sister; and, as Bellairs came to adorn Meta, and she could have no solitude, she went downstairs, thinking she heard Norman’s step, and hoping to judge of his mood.
She entered the room with an exclamation, “Oh, Norman!”
“At your service!” said the wrong Norman, looking merrily up from behind a newspaper.
“Oh, I beg your pardon; I thought—”
“Your thoughts were quite right,” he said, smiling. “Your brother desires me to present his respects to his honoured family, and to inform them that his stock of assurance is likely to be diminished by the pleasure of their company this morning.”