“It would be very strange if we did not,” said Mary, “considering whose friend she was before we were born.”
Mary had now opened her Bible, and they read together, as they always did at night, when any thing had prevented their reading with their father below. It was very late, and Mr. Byerley had been some time in vain trying to sleep. The conversation in the next room disturbed him; and the continued murmur while Mary read, made him suppose that they were not yet thinking of sleep. He rose and tapped at their door. “Who is there? Is it you, papa?” said Anna, opening the door. When Mr. Byerley saw the closing book in Mary’s hand, he gave his blessing to his children, and advised them to seek repose. Their minds, as they composed themselves to rest, were full of thankfulness for the new pleasures of companionship which the day had brought them; and Anna began, for the first time, to be aware of the blessing of having a father whom she could love without fearing in any painful degree.
CHAPTER IV.
Pleasure or Pain?
At the sight of four saddle-horses and a carriage at Mr. Byerley’s door, the population of A—— began to assemble for the purpose of speculation as to what sort of a journey was about to be undertaken. That part of the population is meant, which was dressed and on foot by eight o’clock; for the grooms and the coachman were very punctual. Here, a workman with his frail basket of tools on his shoulder stood to see the provision packed in under the carriage-seat; there, a boy who had been birds’-nesting passed so close before the pony’s eyes, that it reared. Here, a milliner’s apprentice lingered in hopes of a glimpse of the riders for whom the side-saddles were destined; and there, an old man who was going to sun himself in the church-yard, stood leaning on his staff, to watch the departure of the company. Presently the young ladies were mounted, and patting the necks of their steeds to sooth them till the signal of departure should be given. Then was heard the slam of the carriage-door, the crack of the whip, and the crash of the wheels on the gravel. The cavalcade gradually disappeared at the turn of the road, and the gazers looked at one another, and betook themselves their several ways.
It was a beautiful morning: no cloud in the sky, no dust on the road; but all fresh, fragrant, and green, in the meadows and hedges. The carriage-party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, their daughter Selina, and Mary Byerley, began to talk all at once, as is the natural impulse from rapid motion of an agreeable kind; and the enquiries went round, “Have you room?” “I am afraid the basket incommodes you:” “let me put away your shawl, for you will not want it;” and so on. To which Mr. Fletcher added, “Have you provided umbrellas, Miss Mary?”
“Umbrellas!” said Mary; “when there is not a cloud in the sky?”
“There was no cloud in the sky at this time yesterday, and what a deluge of rain we have had since!”
It appeared that the servants had marked this fact, for the handles of a very satisfactory number of umbrellas peeped out when sought for.
“How well your sister rides!” observed Mary, as Rose Fletcher cantered past the carriage, and waved her hand in passing.
“Where can Anna be? She cannot have passed without our seeing her;” said Selina, standing up to look before and behind. Far, very far behind, not cantering, nor apparently dreaming of cantering, was Anna, pacing soberly, side by side with Signor Elvi, either talking or listening very earnestly.