"Well, we look neat, however," said Mr. Ponsonby, cracking a whip, which never departed from his right hand.
"Is my father near, Mr. Ponsonby?" Christobelle asked, anxiously. She was sure Sir John Spottiswoode would be near him, and her heart wished to ascertain his movements. She dared not appear interested in the whereabout of her "tutor," to attract notice. Mr. Ponsonby cracked his whip, and looked behind him.
"Sir John Wetheral and your friend are escorting my sisters. Do observe the pretty effect of the groupe descending the glen."
They turned to admire the picturesque figures which adorned the woody scene. Lady Wetheral also lingered with his Grace of Forfar, to gaze upon their effect.
"These scenes are not to be found in Shropshire," observed his Grace. "The Wrekin lying upon the plain, like a whale in a dish, will be tame work when we can remember Lochleven."
"And yet I sometimes sigh for the scenes I have quitted," said her ladyship. "I confess I love the busy hum of man, and Lochleven is dreary in the winter months. I wish I could persuade my daughter she is dull at Fairlee."
"Miss Wetheral loves the grand seclusion of Lochleven, because her taste has not been vitiated by society."
"My daughter is wedded to calm life, and loves no agitation beyond the ruffled lake. I believe her spirit would pine in the gay world."
"So much the better, my good lady; her young mind is uncontaminated by the arts of a worldly life."
"My endeavour is to preserve its purity, and watch over its happiness," replied her ladyship, sighing.