“O, look! look!” cried Selina; “they have forgotten every thing but what they are talking about. I wonder whether he is telling her about his poor wife and children.”
“Or about his beautiful estate that he will never see again,” said Mary.
“Or about the dear friend he was obliged to leave in prison,” added Selina.
“Sit down, Selina!” said her father, in a voice which silenced her.
After a long pause, Mrs. Fletcher began to talk with Mary about various trifles; but the conversation was far from amusing till Mr. Fletcher, after a long yawn, took a book from his pocket, and began to read very attentively. Then the two young heads met under one parasol, and carried on a busy talk, with low voices, and much care to avoid attracting the notice of the reader. Room was presently made for Mrs. Fletcher’s companionship, and then the girls forgot to wish the gentleman away, except when a finger was held up to say “hush!”
It was observed, at length, that Mr. Fletcher had ceased to read. The book was not laid aside, but closed with a finger between the leaves, while he looked over the side of the carriage. The three bonnets emerged from beneath the parasol, and every body cried, “How beautiful!”
“I was wondering,” said Mr. Fletcher, laughing, “whether you would actually pass by this view without looking about you.”
“You would not have allowed us, surely, sir,” said Mary.
“Nay; no doubt your fine imaginations were furnishing you with something much more beautiful than any thing vulgar eyes can look upon.”
Mary, young as she was, and modest as became her youth, was little daunted by Mr. Fletcher’s rough manner and speech. It was probably because she was more humble than Selina, that she was less mortified by any rebuke or sign of contempt. Selina’s silence was not that of humility. If not allowed to be sentimental in speech, she did not change her style of conversation, but indulged her dreams of the imagination in silence; while her very silence expressed that she did not think her father worthy to sympathize in her pleasures. Mrs. Fletcher never interfered between them, or attempted to make her husband and children understand one another better. She was very timid, rather indolent, and somewhat inclined to be sentimental, though not in the childish way in which she encouraged her daughters to be so.