‘Edward,’ she said to her husband suddenly one day, ‘we must leave this place. I cannot bear it any more!’
He turned round upon her with a look of astonishment. ‘Leave this place! But why, my love?’ he said. His surprise was quite genuine. He had not then, during the whole of her martyrdom, acquired the faintest insight into her mind.
‘There is no reason,’ she said hastily, ‘only that I cannot—I cannot bear it any more.’
‘But is not that a little unreasonable, Carry? Why should you go away? It is only the middle of September. Tom does not go back to school for ten days at least—and after that——’
‘Edward, I hate the place. You knew that I hated the place.’
‘Yes, my love; and felt that it was not quite like my Carry to hate any place, especially the place which must be her son’s home.’
‘I never wanted to come,’ she said, ‘and now that we have proved—how inexpedient it was——’
‘Don’t say so, dear. I have told you my opinion already. The best women are unjust to boys in these respects. I don’t blame you. Your point of view is so different. On the contrary, we should have brought Tom here long ago. He ought to have learned as a child that there were men calling themselves his father’s friends who were not fit company for him. I think he has learned that lesson now, and to force him away from a place he is fond of, as if to show him that you could not trust him——’
‘It is not for Tom,’ she said; ‘Edward, cannot you understand? it is for myself.’
‘You are not the sort of woman to think of yourself when Tom’s interests are at stake. We ought to stay even after he is gone, to make all the friends we can for him. For my own part, I like the place very well,’ Beaufort said. ‘And then there is your sister so near at hand. You must try to forget the little accident that has disgusted you, Carry. Think of the pleasure of having Edith so near at hand—and that excellent fellow John—though he’s too much of an M.P.’