"... My antiquity and my wisdom."
"Just that.... But, good heavens! Fanny Mowbray, who is that to whom your mother is speaking on the lawn?"
"It is Mr. Cartwright!" cried Fanny with animation; "and now, Major Dalrymple, you will have an opportunity of judging for yourself."
"I fear not," he replied, taking out his watch; "it is now eight o'clock, and Mrs. Richards seldom walks much after nine."
The two girls now withdrew their arms, and hastened forward to the group of which Mr. Cartwright made one. Fanny Mowbray held out her hand to him, which was taken and held very affectionately for two or three minutes.
"You have been enjoying this balmy air," said he to her in a voice sweetly modulated to the hour and the theme. "It is heaven's own breath, Miss Fanny, and to such a mind as yours must utter accents worthy of the source from whence it comes."
Fanny's beautiful eyes were fixed upon his face, and almost seemed to say,
"When you speak, I'd have you do it ever."
"I do not think he recollects me," whispered Mary Richards in her ear: "I wish you'd introduce me."
Fanny Mowbray started, but recovering herself, said, "Mr. Cartwright, give me leave to introduce my friend Miss Mary Richards to you. She is one of your parishioners, and one that you will find capable of appreciating the happiness of being so."