CHAPTER XVII.
RUPERT.
Mrs. Jersey could not leave town the next day. Dolly had to wait. It was hard waiting. She half wished she had stayed that day also with her father; yet when she asked herself why?—she shuddered. To take care of him? to watch and keep guard over him? What use, for one day, when she could do it no longer? Mr. Copley must be left to himself; and a feeling of helplessness stole over her. From the momentary encouragement and hope, she fell back again to take a more comprehensive view of the subject; she saw that all was not gained yet, and it might be that nothing! And she could do no more, except pray. Poor Dolly did that; but the strain of fear, the horror of shame, the grief of hurt affection, began to make her very sore. She was not getting accustomed to her burden; it was growing more insupportably galling; the only hope for the whole family lay in getting together and remaining together, and in this journey taking Mr. Copley away from his haunts and his tempters. Yet Dolly reflected with trembling that the temptation, both temptations, would meet them on their way; if a man desired to drink or to play, he would never be at a loss for the opportunity or the companions. Dolly wrung her hands and prayed again.
However, something was gained; and Dolly on her return reported to her mother that they were to set off for the Continent in a few days. She brought down money, moreover, to pay off the servants; and with a heart so far lightened, went bravely at the preparations to be made.
"And will your father go with us to Venice?"
"Of course, mother. We cannot go without him."
"What if Venice shouldn't agree with me?"
"Oh, then we'll go on further. I think Naples would agree with you. There is a very nice house at Sorrento—nice people—where Lady Brierley spent a summer; and Mrs. Jersey has given me the address. Perhaps we'll go there."
"But if Lady Brierley was there, I guess it's an expensive place."
"No, Mrs. Jersey says not. You must have what you want anyhow, mother dear."