CHAPTER VII.
THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, ETC.
"Emily, my dear, take Julian's arm: here, Charles, come and change with me; I should like a walk with you to Oxton, to see how your little scholars get on." So spake the intriguing mother.
"Why, that is just what I was going to do with Charles," said Emily, "and if Julian will excuse me—"
"Oh, never mind me, Miss Warren, pray; come along with me, will you, mother?"
So they paired off in more well-matched couples (for Julian luckily took huff), and went their different ways: with those went hatred, envy, worldly scheming, and that lowest sort of love that ill deserves the name; with these remain all things pure, affectionate, benevolent.
"Charles, dear," (they were just like brother and sister, innocent and loving), "how kind it is of you to take me with you; if you only knew how I dreaded Julian!"
"Why, Emmy? can he have offended you in any way?"
"Oh, Charles, he is so rude, and says such silly things, and—I am quite afraid to be alone with him."
"What—what—what does he say to you, Emily?" hurriedly urged her half-avowed lover.