"I have no doubt she could have got along just as well without me till she went to Sorrento, if she had only thought so."
"I don't think she could. And _I_ could not, father. I do not like to be left so much to Mr. St. Leger's care."
"He likes it. How has he behaved?"
"He has behaved very well."
"Then what's the matter?"
"I don't want him to think he has a right to take care of us."
"He has the right, if I give it to him. And you know you mean to give him the right, Dolly, in permanence. What's the use of fighting shy about it? Oh, girls, girls! You must have your way, I suppose. Well, now I'm here to look after you."
And the business of sight-seeing was carried on from that time with unabating activity. They went everywhere, and still Mr. Copley found new things for them to see. Mrs. Copley took him into the curiosity shops, but as surely he took her out of them, with not much done in the way of purchases. Dolly enjoyed everything during the first week or two. She would have enjoyed it hugely, only that the lurking care about her father was always present to her mind. She was not at rest. Mr.
Copley seemed well and cheery; active and hearty as usual; yet Dolly detected something hollow in the cheer and something forced in the activity. She thought him restless and uneasy, in spite of all the gaiety.
One day after an excursion of some length the party had turned into a restaurant to refresh themselves. Chocolate and coffee had been brought; and then Mr. Copley exclaimed, "Hang it! this won't do. Have you drunk nothing but slops all this while, Lawrence?" And he ordered the waiter to bring a flask of Greek wine. Dolly's heart leaped to her mouth.
"Oh no, father!" she said pleadingly, laying her hand on his.
"Oh no, what, my child?"
"No wine, please, father!" There was more intensity in Dolly's accents than perhaps anybody knew but Mr. Copley; he had the key; and the low quaver in Dolly's voice did not escape him. He answered without letting himself meet her eyes.
"Why not? Hasn't Lawrence given you any _vino dolce_ since you have been in foreign parts? One can get good wine in Venice; and pure."
"If one knows where to go for it," added St. Leger. "So I am told."
"You have not found out by experience yet? We will explore together."
"Not for wine, father?" murmured Dolly.
"Yes, for wine. Wine is one of the good things. What do you think grapes grow for, eh? Certainly, wine is a good thing, if it is properly used. Eh, Lawrence?"
"I have always thought so, sir."
"Cheer your mother up now, Dolly. I believe it would do her lots of good. Here it is. We'll try."
Dolly flushed with pain and anxiety. Yet here, how could she speak plainly? Her father was opening the bottle, and the waiter was setting the glasses.
"We have it on good authority, Miss Dolly," Lawrence said, looking at her, and not sure how far he might venture, "that wine 'maketh glad the heart of man.'"
"And on the same authority we have it that 'wine is a mocker.'"
"What will you do with contradictory authority?"
"They are not contradictory, those two words," said Dolly. "It is deceitful; it gets hold of a man, and then he cannot get loose from it.
You _know_, Mr. St. Leger, what work it does."
"Not _good_ wine," said her father, tossing off his glass. "That's fair; nothing extra. I think we can find better. Letitia, try it; I have a notion it will do you good;--ought to have been tried before."
And he filled his wife's glass, and then Dolly's, and then Rupert's.
Dolly felt as nearly desperate as ever in her life. Her father had the air of a man who has broken through a slight barrier between him and comfort. Mrs. Copley sipped the wine. Lawrence looked observingly from one face to another. Then Dolly stretched out her hand and laid it upon Rupert's glass.
"Please stand by me, Rupert!" she begged.
"I will!" said the young man, smiling. "What do you want me to do?"
"Do as I do."
"I will."
Dolly lifted her glass and poured the contents of it into the nearly emptied chocolate jug. Rupert immediately followed her example.
"What's that for?" said her father, frowning.
"It's waste," added her mother. "I call that waste."
"Don't make yourself ridiculous, Dolly!" Mr. Copley went on. "My child, the world has drunk wine ever since before you were born, and it will go on drinking it after you are dead. What is the use of trying to change what cannot be changed? What can _you_ do?"
"Father, I will not help a bad cause."
"How is it a bad cause, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence now. "It is a certain pleasure,--but what harm?"
"Do you ask me that?" said she, with a look of her clear, womanly eyes, which it was not very pleasant to meet.
"Well, of course, if people misuse the thing,"---- he began.
"Do they often misuse it, Mr. St. Leger?"
"Well, yes; perhaps they do."
"Go on. What are the consequences, when they misuse it?"
"When people drink too much bad brandy of course--but wine like _this_ never hurt anybody."
Dolly thought, it had hurt _her_ that day; but she could not trust her voice to say it. Her lips trembled, her beautiful eyes filled, she was obliged to wait. And how, there before her father whom the fruit of the vine had certainly hurt grievously, and before Mr. St. Leger who knew as much and had seen it, could she put the thing in words? Her father had chosen his time cruelly. And where was his promise? Dolly fought and swallowed and struggled with herself; and tried to regain command of voice.
"It's a narrow view, ray dear," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass again, to Dolly's infinite horror; "a narrow view. Well-bred people do not hold it. It is always a mistake to set yourself against the world.
The world is generally right."
"O father, do you think so?"
"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Copley, sipping the wine and looking from one to another of the faces in the little group. "Dolly is a foolish girl, Rupert; do not let her persuade you."
"It certainly is not the wine that is to be condemned," said Lawrence, "but the immoderate use of it. That's all."
"What do you call immoderate use of it?" Rupert asked now, putting the question in Dolly's interest.