No, she did not want him to be
ridiculous; and as he spoke she recalled the staggering, impotent
figure of last night, in its unmanly feebleness and senseless idiocy. A
sense of the difficulty of her task and the vanity of her
representations came over Dolly; it gave her new food for tears, but
the present effect was to make her stop them. I suppose despair does
not weep. Dolly was not despairing, either.

"What shall we do, father?" she asked, ignoring all his remarks and
suggestions.

"Do, Dolly? About what?"

"Don't you think we will not stay any longer in Venice?"

"For all I care! Where, then?"

"To Rome, father?"

"I thought you were to be in Rome at Christmas?"

"It is not so very long till Christmas."

"Is your mother agreed?"

"She will be, if you say so."

"If it pleases you, Dolly--I don't care."

"And, father, dear father! won't you keep your promise to me? What is
to become of us, father?"

Some bitter tears flowed again as she said this quietly; but Mr. Copley
knew they were flowing, and he had an intuitive sense that they were
bitter. They embarrassed him.

"I'll make a bargain, Dolly," he said after a pause. "I'll do what you
want of me--anything you want--if you'll marry St. Leger."

"But, father, I have not made up my mind to like him enough for that."

"You will like him well enough. If you were to marry him you would be
devoted to him. I know you."

"I think the devotion ought to come first."

"Nonsense. That is romantic folly. Novels are one thing, and real life
is another."

"I daresay; but do you object to people's being a little romantic?"

"When it interferes with their bread and butter, I do."

"Father, if you would drink no wine, we could all of us have as much
bread and butter as we choose."

"You are always harping on that!" said Mr. Copley, frowning.

"Because, our whole life depends on it, father. You cannot bear wine as
some people can, I suppose; the habit is growing on you; mother and I
are losing you, we do not even have but half a sight of you;
and--father--we are wanting necessaries. But I do not think of _that_,"
Dolly went on eagerly; "I do not care; I am willing to live on dry
bread, and work for the means to get it; but I cannot bear to lose you,
father! I cannot bear it!--and it will kill mother. She does not know;
I have kept her from knowing; she knows nothing about what happened
last night. O father, do not let her know! Would anything pay you for