And is there anything more sacred than art? -
Yes, one thing!
It happened something in this wise.
The singing had put us in a gentle mood, and after a long peroration
from Mr. Beresford, which I do not care to repeat, I said very
softly (blessing the Honourable Arthur's vociferous laughter at one
of Salemina's American jokes), "But I thought perhaps it was
Francesca. Are you quite sure?"
He intimated that if there were any fact in his repertory of which
he was particularly and absolutely sure it was this special fact.
"It is too sudden," I objected. "Plants that blossom on shipboard-"
"This plant was rooted in American earth, and you know it, Penelope.
If it chanced to blossom on the ship, it was because it had already
budded on the shore; it has borne transplanting to a foreign soil,
and it grows in beauty and strength every day: so no slurs, please,
concerning ocean-steamer hothouses."
"I cannot say yes, yet I dare not say no; it is too soon. I must go
off into the country quite by myself and think it over."
"But," urged Mr. Beresford, "you cannot think over a matter of this
kind by yourself.
