But you are right, colonel; we have had sufficient. I shall be getting a democratic orator’s twang, or a crazy parson’s, if I go on much further. He covers thirty-two pages of letter-paper. The conclusion is:—‘Jenny sends you her compliments, respects, and best wishes, and hopes she may see you before she goes to her friend Clara Sherwin and the General.’”
“Sherwin? Why, General Sherwin’s a perfect gentleman,” Colonel Halkett interjected; and Lord Palmet caught the other name: “Jenny? That’s Miss Denham, Jenny Denham; an amazingly pretty girl: beautiful thick brown hair, real hazel eyes, and walks like a yacht before the wind.”
“Perhaps, colonel, Jenny accounts for the defence of society,” said Captain Baskelett. “I have no doubt Shrapnel has a scheme for Jenny. The old communist and socialist!” He folded up the letter: “A curious composition, is it not, Miss Halkett?”
Cecilia was thinking that he tempted her to be the apologist of even such a letter.
“One likes to know the worst, and what’s possible,” said the colonel.
After Captain Baskelett had gone, Colonel Halkett persisted in talking of the letter, and would have impressed on his daughter that the person to whom the letter was addressed must be partly responsible for the contents of it. Cecilia put on the argumentative air of a Court of Equity to discuss the point with him.
“Then you defend that letter?” he cried.
Oh, no: she did not defend the letter; she thought it wicked and senseless. “But,” said she, “the superior strength of men to women seems to me to come from their examining all subjects, shrinking from none. At least, I should not condemn Nevil on account of his correspondence.”
“We shall see,” said her father, sighing rather heavily. “I must have a talk with Mr. Romfrey about that letter.”