Mr. Beebe pulled himself together. Really, Mr. Vyse had the art
of placing one in the most tiresome positions. He was driven to
use the prerogatives of his profession.

"No, I have said nothing indiscreet. I foresaw at Florence that
her quiet, uneventful childhood must end, and it has ended. I
realized dimly enough that she might take some momentous step.
She has taken it. She has learnt--you will let me talk freely, as
I have begun freely--she has learnt what it is to love: the
greatest lesson, some people will tell you, that our earthly life
provides." It was now time for him to wave his hat at the
approaching trio. He did not omit to do so. "She has learnt
through you," and if his voice was still clerical, it was now
also sincere; "let it be your care that her knowledge is
profitable to her."

"Grazie tante!" said Cecil, who did not like parsons.

"Have you heard?" shouted Mrs. Honeychurch as she toiled up the
sloping garden. "Oh, Mr. Beebe, have you heard the news?"

Freddy, now full of geniality, whistled the wedding march. Youth
seldom criticizes the accomplished fact.

"Indeed I have!" he cried. He looked at Lucy. In her presence he
could not act the parson any longer--at all events not without
apology. "Mrs. Honeychurch, I'm going to do what I am always
supposed to do, but generally I'm too shy. I want to invoke every
kind of blessing on them, grave and gay, great and small.
I want them all their lives to be supremely good and supremely