"And she is very fond of all of you. I seem to know you all from hearing her talk about you so much.—All of you!" said she, laying an emphasis on "all" to show that it included the dead as well as the living. Roger was silent for a minute or two.
"I didn't know you, even by hearsay. So you mustn't wonder that I was a little afraid. But as soon as I saw you I knew how it must be; and it was such a relief!"
"Cynthia," said Mrs. Gibson, who thought that the younger son had had quite his share of low, confidential conversation, "come here, and sing that little French ballad to Mr. Osborne Hamley."
"Which do you mean, mamma? 'Tu t'en repentiras, Colin?'"
"Yes; such a pretty, playful little warning to young men," said Mrs. Gibson, smiling up at Osborne. "The refrain is—
|
Tu t'en repentiras, Colin, Tu t'en repentiras, Car si tu prends une femme, Colin, Tu t'en repentiras. |
The advice may apply very well when there is a French wife in the case; but not, I am sure, to an Englishman who is thinking of an English wife."
"Tu t'en repentiras, Colin."