“Oh, but she wanted mamma to shut you up,” added Francis.
“Well, and mamma knows better,” said Conrade, “and it made her leave off teaching me, so it was lucky. But I don’t mind that; only don’t you see, Colonel, they don’t know how to treat mamma! They go and bully her, and treat her like—like a subaltern, till I hate the very sight of it.”
“My boy,” said the Colonel, who had been giving only half attention; “you must make up your mind to your mother not being at the head of everything, as she used to be in your father’s time. She will always be respected, but you must look to yourself as you grow up to make a position tor her!”
“I wish I was grown up!” sighed Conrade; “how I would give it to Aunt Rachel! But why must we live here to have her plaguing us?”
Questions that the Colonel was glad to turn aside by moans of the ponies, and by a suggestion that, if a very quiet one were found, and if Conrade would be very careful, mamma might, perhaps, go out riding with them. The motion was so transcendant that, no sooner had the ponies been seen, than the boys raced home, and had communicated it at the top of their voices to mamma long before their friend made his appearance. Lady Temple was quite startled at the idea. “Dear papa,” as she always called her husband, “had wished her to ride, but she had seldom done so, and now—” The tears came into her eyes.
“I think you might,” said the Colonel, gently; “I could find you a quiet animal, and to have you with Conrade would be such a protection to him,” he added, as the boys had rushed out of the room.
“Yes; perhaps, dear boy. But I could not begin alone; it is so long since I rode. Perhaps when you come back from Ireland.”
“I am not going to Ireland.”
“I thought you said—” said Fanny looking up surprised; “I am very glad! But if you wished to go, pray don’t think about us! I shall learn to manage in time, and I cannot bear to detain you.”
“You do not detain me,” he said, sitting down by her; “I have found what I was going in search of, and through your means.”