"It's too late in the day; and it wouldn't be good for the
child, I'm sure."
"Well, aunty, it was you determined us to wait for the boat, and it's your
right to say whether we shall leave it or not. I'm very willing not to go
ashore. I always find that, after working up to an object with great
effort, it's surpassingly sweet to leave it unaccomplished at last. Then
it remains forever in the region of the ideal, amongst the songs that
never were sung, the pictures that never were painted. Why, in fact,
should we force this pleasure? We've eaten our lunch, we've lost the warm
heart of the day; why should we poorly drag over to that damp and sullen
beach, where we should find three hours very long, when by going back now
we can keep intact that glorious image of a day by the sea which we've
been cherishing all summer? You're right, Aunt Melissa; we won't go
ashore; we will stay here, and respect our illusions."
At heart, perhaps, Lucy did not quite like this retreat; it was not in
harmony with the youthful spirit of her sex, but she reflected that she
could come again,--O beneficent cheat of Another Time, how much thou
sparest us in our over-worked, over-enjoyed world!--she was very
comfortable where she was, in a seat commanding a perfect view for the
return trip; and she submitted without a murmur.
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