"We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. After all, it is no
wonder. What a superb boy it is!--Here is nurse. I'm so sorry. Now we
shall be cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and I
shall not be expected to--(good-night, little flaxen angel; good-by,
handsome and loquacious demon; kiss and be friends)--expected to know,
all in a minute, what is a parson's brat. By-the-by, talking of
parsons, what has become of Angelo?"
"He has been away a good many years. Consumption, I hear."
"He was a fine-built fellow too; was he not, Lady Bassett?"
"I don't know; but he was beautifully strong. I think I see him now
carrying dear Charles in his arms all down the garden."
"Ah, you see he was raised in a university that does not do things by
halves, but trains both body and mind, as they did at Athens; for the
union of study and athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it is
only a return to antiquity."
Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir Charles glanced at
his, and sent them to his study. Lady Bassett had but one. She said,
_"May_ I?" to both gentlemen, and then opened it.
"How strange!" said she. "It is from Mr. Angelo: just a line to say he
is coming home quite cured."
She began this composedly, but blushed afterward--blushed quite red.
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