"I shall tell you as I did Mr. Morgan just now, I am ignorant and indifferent on that subject—and now you can go and walk on the other side of the hill—or if you think it will look more picturesque, by the side of yonder angry gentleman."
"No, Miss Millar, your ignorance, and indifference shall not drive me from you; I would rather try to enlighten the one and overcome the other."
This, though whispered softly, seemed to overpower her; she coloured deeply; rose from the bank where they were sitting, and walked away to the side of an adjoining thicket, where she employed herself in trying to gather some brier roses from the hedge. Sam watched her for some minutes, then perceiving that in stretching forward to grasp a blossom, her veil had become entangled in a thorny shrub, he started up, and in a moment was at her side to aid and release her.
Emma did not like to follow them, thinking she should be in the way, and expecting that a few minutes would bring them back. In the mean time Mr. Morgan looked round, and seeing her alone joined her. He still affected to look hurt and sad, and Emma generously gave him credit for more feeling than he deserved.
"That volatile girl—" said he, and then stopped.
"You must not mind what she says," suggested Emma kindly, "I am certain she sometimes speaks without thinking, but never from malice or ill will, even when she seems severe."
"She does not surprise me," replied he; "I am used to her ways, and there is no change in her; she is always the same, it is vacillations of friendship, variations of good opinion which I confess astonish and pain me. And yet why should they—after all, the human mind is so liable to error, so prone to seek misconstructions, so inclined to change and variation, that nothing of the kind ought to surprise me."
She was determined to be silent, and occupied herself in wishing for the return of her brother and Annie, who had strayed farther than she had expected, and were now out of sight.
He was disappointed at her silence, and changed the subject into an enquiry as to whether she should make a long stay at Croydon. She told him she was only to remain until her sister's marriage, which would, as he knew, very shortly occur.
"And then," said he, "may I ask where you are going—do you return to Osborne Castle?"