'"Really, Oliver," cried I, with flaming cheeks and eyes brimming with tears, "you are very unkind and selfish. I thought you would be glad that I am not going ever so far away, where you would never see me at all."
'"Why, Fan! don't be silly. You always get into such a fume about nothing. I only meant that I might come and stay with you, and we could do everything we chose, and you could order dinner, and sit at the head of the table, and carve, of course; or I could carve for you, and we should have no lessons or cross-grained Master Waynefleets to plague us."
'"Ah, but you would only be able to come now and then," said I more gently, for my anger was a good deal softened down. Oliver's plans for my married life were certainly charming, and threw even the "splendid position" into the shade.
'"There's a good girl! That's the best of you, Fan. If you do put yourself in a fume for nothing, you are out again almost as soon as you are in. Now, you didn't really believe I wanted you to go away? Why you must know how dull it would be here, without you to quarrel with and lord it over the small boys!"
'The idea of such a state of things so melted Oliver, that, as we were quite alone—not even the said small boys in sight—he actually condescended to kiss me, or rather to let me kiss him,—a most unwonted sign of affection on his part; for he generally sturdily refused to be kissed by anybody but mamma (and even to that he submitted with great reluctance), except once a year, on his birthday. So, my good temper being quite restored by this, we sat very happily on our trough, chattering too fast to observe that Oliver's muddy boot was not improving the splendour of the scarlet kirtle, and that the poppy-covered skirt, to the length of at least two inches, was steeping itself in the green water of the horse-pond. Presently the sound of footsteps and voices made us look round; and when the yard-gate opened, and Sir Harry Mountfort and my father suddenly appeared upon the scene, we were so much startled, that Oliver's first exploit was to topple backwards into the trough, while I, with like promptitude, sprang up, plunging one foot ankle-deep into the pond. This was an embarrassing state of things. For the first time I became conscious of the deplorable state of my frock; and when I saw Sir Harry's stare of surprise, not unmixed with amusement, and my father's face of annoyance, I felt inclined to take another and more effectual plunge into the horse-pond, and vanish for ever in its stagnant depths. It really makes me laugh now to remember what a very absurd figure I must have looked, with my fine embroidered dress soaked in muddy water, and my hair blowing about in a mad state of dishevelment, from beneath one of Oliver's most ancient and battered hats, which I had snatched off a peg in the hall as I ran out to look for the boys after dinner. I had never been in the habit of caring much how I looked. Brothers of ten years old are not critical with regard to their sisters' appearance. On the contrary, they make a point of discouraging the least attempt to look "nice" (as you would call it); and as to taking care of their own clothes, or those of other people, why, I should have been withered up with scorn if I had suggested such a notion to my brothers! But I never had. It was only to-day that Sir Harry's compliments, and the prospect of my new dignities, had put it into my head to think about my dress and appearance. The fact that I was a remarkably pretty little girl had never struck me before; and now that I had begun to care for these things, and particularly wished to look my best, here was the bride-elect, the future Countess of Desmond, ignominiously caught splashing about in a stable-yard, drenched in mud and mire, and attired in that shabby, old, high-crowned hat. Oliver told me afterwards that I looked like a witch who had just been ducked. My father surveyed us from head to foot with a curling lip and severe eyes; then he turned, with a short laugh to Sir Harry, and said something in a low voice. The only words I could distinctly hear were: "Just as I told you ... put an end to this;" to which Sir Harry answered with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders, which stung me to such a degree that I forgot all his flattering speeches, and for a moment absolutely hated him.
'"Come here, Frances," my father said; and I obeyed slowly and reluctantly. "What would your mother say, child, if she heard you had been romping with your brother in the stable?"
'"She would not mind, sir; at least, perhaps, she would to-day, because of my holiday gown. But I often come here with Oliver."
'"And we were not romping," interrupted Oliver; "we were only talking; and it was my fault that she has spoiled her kirtle, for I dragged her down on to the trough. Indeed, sir, mamma always lets Fan come here; and she fishes for carp with me sometimes." I was grateful to Oliver for standing up for me; but I could have wished that he had not mentioned the carp just then.
'"Indeed!" was my father's reply. "Well, you had better go up to nurse and tell her to make you look more like a gentlewoman, and less like a strolling-player. A stable-yard is all very well for your brother, but hardly the place where one expects to find a young lady." This was a sentiment in which both nurse and Rebecca most thoroughly agreed; and they continued to enlarge upon it all the time that they were setting me to rights in the nursery.
'"A very fit place for Master Oliver, to be sure, seeing that he was a boy and had all his old clothes on, just come back from hunting. But to think that Mistress Frances should be found there! and by the strange gentleman too—Mistress Frances, who was going to be married so soon, and, what was more, to marry a lord! Alack! alack!" Nurse could only shake her head despondingly. Her young lady was certainly very far at present from her beau-ideal of "a grand madam." I felt very much humiliated, and consequently very cross and sulky; and when at last I was set free from nurse's hands, I stood in pouting silence watching the sunset out of the nursery window, and wishing that Sir Harry Mountfort and the Earl of Desmond had never been heard of; envying Oliver, who sat eating the dinner that had been kept for him, and holding forth to Miles and Roger on the adventures of Shad and himself during their morning's sport.....