“I think not still,” said the persevering Mary. “If you were to see him with his daughter for only one half hour, you would find out how he loves her, and tries to make her feel what has happened as little as possible; but he can never be sorry that it has been proved what a daughter he has. When she begins to repent of what she did, he may begin to be sorry for the occasion; but that will never, never be.”
“Well, you shall have it all your own way, because you are right, I believe,” said Mr. Fletcher. “But I hope, my dear, your father will have some pleasanter proof that you have a strong mind and a willing spirit.”
Mary could not answer, as Mr. Fletcher looked kindly at her. He soon opened his book again, and nobody spoke till the carriage stopped at the door of the Audley Arms.
The party presently dispersed themselves in groups about the park. Anna and Selina, of course, flew to each other, as soon as the one had alighted from her pony, and the other from the carriage. Arm in arm, they wandered away under the shade of the avenue. Rose and Mary, with their sketch-book, explored their way to the Ruin, to which the people of the inn had directed them; and they were immediately followed by Mrs. Fletcher and their Italian friend. Mr. Byerley also seemed disposed to accompany them; but Mr. Fletcher persuaded him to go round a longer way, for the purpose of witnessing the result of an experiment in tillage, which he knew to have been made on a piece of land adjoining the park. At the Ruin they were all to meet at two o’clock; by which time the servants were to have spread the dinner at the precise point of view where prospect-hunters were wont to feast body and soul at the same time.
The members of the three detachments all enjoyed themselves in their several ways; the four who were together, perhaps the most. Signor Elvi could draw well, and he superintended Mary’s sketch, to her great profit and pleasure. He advised her not to attempt the more extensive view which, though spread temptingly before them, could not easily be transferred to paper with all its flitting lights and shadows, its sloping lawns and wooded banks, and streams that peeped out where the sunshine fell brightest. He rather recommended a particular angle of the Ruin, whose massy stone-work was finely contrasted with the light birch which waved near. He took her pencil, and on the back of a letter showed her, with a few rapid strokes, what kind of effect he thought might be produced. When he had seen her make a successful beginning, he carried off Rose to a little distance, that she might attempt the same subject from a different point of view; to which her only objection was, that she should be too far off to hear the conversation.
“Oh! that will be too sad,” exclaimed he: “no lady must feel forlorn to-day. Mrs. Fletcher and I will sit between you, and tell you tales to beguile your tasks.”
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