"Do so, Helen," said Rosalind promptly: "it is the only measure to pursue—unless indeed you and I were to set off and surprise him by a visit."
"But my mother?..." replied Helen, evidently struck by the advantages of this bolder scheme over her own,—"what would my mother say to our going?"
"If she knew of it, Helen, I suspect it would lose all favour in Sir Gilbert's eyes, and you would have no chance whatever of softening his rage towards her. The expedition, if undertaken at all, must be a secret one. When he learns it is so, I think it will touch his tough heart, Helen, for he knows, I fancy, that such escapades are not at all in your line. I only hope that he will not find out that I proposed it, as that might lessen your merit in his eyes."
"No, no, that would do no harm. My doing it would be quite proof enough how near this matter is to my heart."
"Well, then, Helen, shall we go?"
"Let me sleep upon it, Rosalind. If we do go, it must, I think, be quite early in the morning, so as to have no questions asked before we set out. It is not a long walk. Shall we see if he will give us some breakfast?"
"A most diplomatic project!" replied Rosalind; "for it will enlist his hospitality on our side, and ten to one but the rough coating of his heart will thaw and resolve itself into a dew, as Fanny would say, by the mere act of administering coffee and hot cakes to us; and then the field is won."
"I think we will try," said Helen, smiling with a sort of inward strengthening, from the conviction that such would very probably be the result.
A few more words settled the exact time and manner of the expedition, and the friends parted to dress for dinner.