Mrs. Penniman
took a discriminating view of her niece's journey; it seemed to her
very proper that Mr. Townsend's destined bride should wish to
embellish her mind by a foreign tour.
"You leave him in good hands," she said, pressing her lips to
Catherine's forehead. (She was very fond of kissing people's
foreheads; it was an involuntary expression of sympathy with the
intellectual part.) "I shall see him often; I shall feel like one of
the vestals of old, tending the sacred flame."
"You behave beautifully about not going with us," Catherine answered,
not presuming to examine this analogy.
"It is my pride that keeps me up," said Mrs. Penniman, tapping the
body of her dress, which always gave forth a sort of metallic ring.
Catherine's parting with her lover was short, and few words were
exchanged.
"Shall I find you just the same when I come back?" she asked; though
the question was not the fruit of scepticism.
"The same--only more so!" said Morris, smiling.
It does not enter into our scheme to narrate in detail Dr. Sloper's
proceedings in the eastern hemisphere. He made the grand tour of
Europe, travelled in considerable splendour, and (as was to have been
expected in a man of his high cultivation) found so much in art and
antiquity to interest him, that he remained abroad, not for six
months, but for twelve. Mrs. Penniman, in Washington Square,
accommodated herself to his absence.
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