"You said, a year ago, you felt bound to fulfil your mother's wishes, and that your inclinations leaned the same way—how is it now? There is the case in a nut-shell."
"One hard to crack, nevertheless;" said Ida, with glistening eyes. "I love Sunnybank, and I have had misgivings that the indulgence I meet here, may spoil me for the active, self-denying life I must lead;—for I have always looked forward to a residence there, some time or other;—but I am so happy here. Still, Mr. Dana, I have a vast deal of surplus energy which ought to be employed. I am not working with all my might. Does this sound ungrateful?"
"Not a bit of it!" struck in Charley's assuring tones. "It is not that you love Caesar less, but Rome more."
"But it is so far!" objected Carry,—"and so out-of-the-way. Suppose you fall sick! O, brother John! it is heartless to send her off by herself!"
"She shall not go by herself, Carry. If she concludes to leave us, it must not be before Spring; then Jenny and I will go with her. If she is convinced, upon trial, that she is inadequate to the enterprise, or dislikes it, we shall be too glad to have her back. Grant is a respectable man, and an intelligent farmer; and she must secure a companion. You mentioned his sister-in-law, I think, Ida?"
"As to the distance," said Charley, "If those snail-like fellows continue the railroad, as they say they will—it will pass within six miles of Sunnybank."
This was a ray of comfort; yet Mrs. Dana burst into tears, and Carry threw her arms around Ida, sobbing bitterly, as she "feared she ought to go."
"Carry! Jenny! you must not!" said Charley. "She has done her duty—and should be encouraged. You are borrowing trouble upon interest. Who can tell what may happen before Spring? An earthquake, or the end of the world may stamp 'Finis' upon sublunary things, and you'll be ashamed of yourselves for having anticipated evil."
He succeeded in calling up a smile, and Carry unintentionally effected a further diversion. "Oh, Ida!" she sighed. "If you had married Mr. Germaine!"