of
the young of the sex. Repression and mystery, he considered wholesome
for girls; and he considered the enlightening of them--to some extent--a
prudential measure for their defence; and premature instruction is
a fire-water to their wild-in-woods understanding; and histrionic
innocence is no doubt the bloom on corruption; also the facts of current
human life, in the crude of the reports or the cooked of the sermon in
the newspapers, are a noxious diet for our daughters; whom nevertheless
we cannot hope to be feeding always on milk: and there is a time when
their adorable pretty ignorance, if credibly it exists out of noodledom,
is harmful:--but how beautiful the shining simplicity of our dear young
English girls! He was one of the many men to whose minds women come
in pictures and are accepted much as they paint themselves. Like his
numerous fellows, too, he required a conflict with them, and a worsting
at it, to be taught, that they are not the mere live stock we scheme to
dispose of for their good: unless Love should interpose, he would have
exclaimed. He broke from his fellows in his holy horror of a father's
running counter to love. Nesta had only to say, that she loved another,
for Dudley Sowerby to be withdrawn into the background of aspirants. But
love was unknown to the girl.

Outwardly, the plan of the Drive to Paris had the look of Victor's
traditional hospitality. Nataly smiled at her incorrigibly lagging
intelligence of him, on hearing that he had invited a company: 'Lady
Grace, for gaiety; Peridon and Catkin, fiddles; Dudley Sowerby and
myself, flutes; Barmby, intonation; in all, nine of us; and by the dear
old Normandy route, for the sake of the voyage, as in old times; towers
of Dieppe in the morning-light; and the lovely road to the capital! Just
three days in Paris, and home by any of the other routes. It's the drive
we want. Boredom in wet weather, we defy; we have our Concert--an hour
at night and we're sure of sleep.' It had a sweet simple air, befitting
him; as when in bygone days they travelled with the joy of children. For
travelling shook Nataly out of her troubles and gave her something of
the child's inheritance of the wisdom of life--the living ever so little
ahead of ourselves; about as far as the fox in view of the hunt. That is
the soul of us out for novelty, devouring as it runs, an endless feast;
and the body is eagerly after it, recording the pleasures, a daily
chase. Remembrance of th