“We cannot, of course, leave her here.”
There was no form of ejaculation or assent in the whole range of language strong enough to express Mr. Tancred’s acquiescence in this impossibility, so he said only—
“No.”
“I have not yet talked to her about her plans; if she has made any—and I doubt her having gone even so far—they are probably perfectly irrational and chimerical.”
“I dare say.”
“I do not even know—the intercourse between us has been so slack of late—whether—under your sister’s auspices—she has made any friends that could be useful or helpful to her.”
Any one but Camilla would at such a moment have prefixed a “poor” to Felicity’s name; but Mrs. Tancred would have scorned to employ the adjective to any him or her simply because they were dead. To her it seemed a very doubtful ground for compassion.
Edward shook his head.
“Under the circumstances, I think there is no doubt that it is our duty to have her back, at all events, for a while.”
This time the hearer gave at first no sign of either acquiescence or dissent; then he spoke—not easily.