“It _is_ a confounded upset,” said Dick: “but you are perfectly right to look at it cheerfully. My philosophy, when a bad thing happens, is, to think that it might have been worse, like the Dutchman in the ‘Spectator,’ who, on breaking his leg, thanked God it wasn’t his neck. What have you done with the young people?”
This question brought about a long and minute narrative, which was barely finished when my aunt and cousin returned.
You may conceive that nothing but Conny and her elopement was talked about till dinner was announced. My aunt was still most violent and irascible in her views and opinions, nor was her temper improved by her giving occasion more than once to her husband to call her to order. Uncle Dick hardly remembered Curling: and Theresa had never seen him; and from the description my aunt gave of the young man, I believe they were both prepared to be introduced to the most ugly, insignificant, vulgar specimen of human nature that ever afflicted the eyesight.
Fortunately, during dinner, the presence of the servants prevented us from discussing the elopement: and, to my great satisfaction, we were allowed to converse on topics that bore no reference whatever to Curling or to Conny.
I sat next to Theresa, and never felt happier. Over and over again I caught my aunt watching me, with a most melancholy expression in her eyes, as if she witnessed in my undissembled enjoyment of Theresa’s society, the dissolution of the last fragment that remained of her pretty hopes.
“Tom,” said uncle Dick, when the dessert was upon the table, and the servants had left the room, “I should like to see Conny. She would take it ill were I to go away without wishing her joy.”
“We’ll walk to Updown after dinner,” replied uncle Tom. “A kindly word is a great help to a young heart, isn’t it, Dick? and God forbid that I should prevent my girl winning what love she can at a time when the want of love would be bitter to her.”
“I should like to go too, papa,” said Theresa.
“And so should I,” observed the Hero of this story.
“I think too many of us would embarrass them,” answered Tom. “You will see her to-morrow, my dear.”
“Your father may if he likes; but you shan’t,” exclaimed Tom warmly. “We want a cheerful face among us, Teazer; and it will be a god-send to our spirits if you will stop.”