'Will he be here next Saturday?'
'I hope so.'
'Dear heart! Oh, Miss Marie, I have a thought: will not his father spare him to sail with us, so that you can be together?'
I shook my head.
'But why not?'
'Father would not hear of it.'
She reflected and exclaimed, 'And Sir Mortimer would be quite right. To be sure it would not do. Is it not a pity that we have to live for our neighbours? Neighbours have broken folks' hearts, as well as their fortunes. Why shouldn't you two be together on board my husband's ship? But the neighbour says No, and people have to live for him. Drat the prying, squinting starer into one's windows! he forces us to dress out a better table than our purses can afford, and to give balls when we ought to be cutting down the weekly bills. But he don't like the sea, my dear. There are no neighbours at sea. Unfortunately the wretch stops ashore; people have to come back, and so he has 'em again!'
Mrs. Burke made much of Mr. Moore's portrait. She had never seen a handsomer gentleman. What was his age? I answered 'Thirty.' 'All the sense,' said she, 'that a man's likely to have he'll have got between thirty and forty. It'll comfort you, Miss Marie, to remember that Mr. Moore's thirty when you're away. He's old enough to know what he's about: he's made up his mind; there'll be no swerving.'
This was a sort of gabble to please me. She knew my nature, and when and how to say just the sort of thing to set my spirits dancing. In truth the part of my proposed banishment hardest to bear was the fear that a long absence would cool the heart of the man I loved.