'Their guest, Mr Francis, had, no doubt, left Morton Park gratefully impressed by the kindness of Miss Courtney.'
Montague reddened—bit his lips—got up—and sat down again. The young ladies wore an air not perfectly good-humoured, and a little triumphant. Mr Morton looked very solemn.
'I hope so, Madam,' I replied, somewhat carelessly. 'I felt myself indebted to Mr Francis for his civilities, and was solicitous to make him all the return in my power—I wish that power had been enlarged.'
She held up her hands and eyes with an affected, and ridiculous, gesture.
'Mr Francis,' said Montague, abruptly, 'is very happy in having inspired you with sentiments so partial.'
'I am not partial—I am merely just. Mr Francis appeared to me a rational man, and my understanding was exercised and gratified by his conversation.'
I was about to proceed, but my uncle (who seemed to have been tutored for the occasion) interrupted me with much gravity.
'You are but little acquainted, Emma, with the customs of society; there is great indecorum in a young lady's making these distinctions.'
'What distinctions, my dear Sir!—in prefering a reasonable man to fools and coxcombs.'
'Forgive me, my dear—you have a quick wit, but you want experience. I am informed, that you breakfasted with Mr Francis this morning, and attended him through the Park:—this, with your late walk yesterday evening, and evident emotion on your return, let me tell you, child, wears an indecorous appearance:—the world is justly attentive to the conduct of young women, and too apt to be censorious.'