"This is a very sudden resolve of yours, mother, isn't it?" Dr. Conly asked, as they drove through the great gates at Ion, into the highway.
"It is, Arthur, for I had not dreamed of such a wild scheme on the part of those two silly children until I heard of it from their grandfather's lips; nor could have believed he would sanction such folly. They ought to make Elsie stay where she is, and if young Leland dies it will but rid the family of a prospective plebeian alliance."
"Very possibly of the sweet girl also," was Arthur's grave response.
"Nonsense! it is only in novels that girls die of broken hearts."
"Granting that for argument's sake, it must be very hard to live with one."
"Well; it seems she is to be allowed to go, and my offer removes the most serious objection; yet I have no idea that the sacrifice on my part will be at all appreciated."
"Then why make it, mother? I can readily find a substitute; there is Mrs. Foster, whose health would be greatly benefited by a long sea voyage. She, I feel certain, would think it a great boon to be allowed this opportunity of going without expense and in the company of two young people of whom she is very fond. And you know, mother, that though poor now she was formerly wealthy, is a perfect lady, and her having been to Europe once or twice would make her all the more valuable companion to them."
"You are quite too late with your suggestion, Arthur," was the coldly spoken reply. "I have passed my word and shall not break it."
Her son gave her a look of keen scrutiny, then turned his face from her with a scarcely audible sigh. He read her motives and feelings far more clearly than she suspected.
The truth was she was weary of the dulness of home now that the shadow of bereavement was upon it, and the etiquette of mourning forbade her attendance upon public assemblages of whatever kind, except church, and did not allow even so much as a formal call upon strangers or acquaintance. The society of her now old, feeble, and depressed father was wearisome to her also.