Elizabeth shook her head.
"You are very odd, Emma—what notions you have. I don't at all understand you yet."
It was very evident by the result, that Mr. Howard had not overstated his sister's anxiety to place her acquaintance with Emma on a footing which would secure its permanence and authorise an increase of intimacy; for the next Monday after making the request, the visitors arrived. Elizabeth and Margaret were sitting together when they were announced—but the former immediately left the room to seek for Emma—although she would have been very glad if Margaret would have saved her the trouble. Margaret, however, was determined to see as much of these strangers from an unknown world, as she could, and consequently, would not stir. She was very anxious to improve the opportunity by immediately entering into conversation with Mr. Howard, but she could think of nothing to say, and it was to the sister that they were indebted for the introduction of a subject. Margaret, who had taken little notice of her at first—for she always found a difficulty in conversing with women, could not help feeling, in some degree, obliged by the well-bred manner in which she commenced some common topics of conversation.
"My brother has been telling me of your adventures on Saturday with the dog," said Mrs. Willis presently, "I hope you suffered no further inconvenience from it."
"Oh," said Margaret, "I was dreadfully frightened; I believe, but for Mr. Howard's interference, I should have fainted; I am very nervous, and I declare I would rather have remained there the whole night, than have ventured past the horrid animal."
"My arrival there must be esteemed most fortunate," said he, "but I own I am astonished at the rudeness of the man in the farm-yard, who contented himself with looking on."
"Oh. he was a brute," cried Margaret, "no better than the dog—but what else can you expect from boors like him. They have no sentiment or feeling."
"I do not agree with you," replied Mr. Howard, "I assure you, I have often been struck with instances of disinterested kindness and generosity amongst the labouring classes, which prove that they are endowed with excellent feelings."
"They have no delicacy or sentiment," said Margaret, "and without that they are uninteresting to me. I own my partiality for the favorites of nature, the gentle and elegant in manner, the aristocratic in birth and breeding."
"Still I think you do our peasantry injustice, if you suppose them destitute of delicacy of feeling, because they have not a refined way of expressing their thoughts in words," replied Mr. Howard. "Their manners of course are uncultivated, and their habits are what you would call unrefined—and no one would wish they should be cursed with the desire for elegancies, which habit has rendered indispensable with us, but which must be unattainable to them; but the germs of generosity, gratitude, and self-sacrifice for the good of others, may be found in many a one who would be puzzled to express his ideas in words."