“My horse! Oh, d—— it! I would not sell my horse for a hundred. Are you fond of an open carriage, Miss Morland?”
“Yes, very; I have hardly ever an opportunity of being in one; but I am particularly fond of it.”
“I am glad of it; I will drive you out in mine every day.”
“Thank you,” said Catherine, in some distress, from a doubt of the propriety of accepting such an offer.
“I will drive you up Lansdown Hill to-morrow.”
“Thank you; but will not your horse want rest?”
“Rest! He has only come three and twenty miles to-day; all nonsense; nothing ruins horses so much as rest; nothing knocks them up so soon. No, no; I shall exercise mine at the average of four hours every day while I am here.”
“Shall you indeed!” said Catherine very seriously. “That will be forty miles a day.”
“Forty! Aye, fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive you up Lansdown to-morrow; mind, I am engaged.”
“How delightful that will be!” cried Isabella, turning round. “My dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, you will not have room for a third.”