"I want you to have common sense; I want you to be comfortable; no wonder my uncle has never recovered his spirits."
"Indeed, Polly, I don't think you've any reason to interfere in papa's concerns."
"I don't see that you are entitled to blame Joanna," defended sister Lilias, stoutly;—Lilias, who was so swift to find fault herself.
"There, I'll say no more; I beg your pardon, I merely intended to show you your world in an ordinary light."
"Do you know, Polly, that Mrs. Jardine has never visited us since?" asked Susan.
"Very likely, she was entitled to some horror. But she is a reasonable woman. Mr. Maxwell told me—every third party discusses the story behind your backs whenever it chances to come up, I warn you—Mr. Maxwell informed me that she never blamed Uncle Crawfurd, and that she sent her son away from her because she judged it bad for him to be brought up among such recollections, and feared that when he was a lad he might be tampered with by the servants, and might imbibe prejudices and aversions that would render him gloomy and vindictive, and unlike other people for the rest of his life; she could not have behaved more wisely. I am inclined to suppose that Mrs. Jardine of Whitethorn has more knowledge of the world and self-command than the whole set of my relations here, unless, perhaps, my Aunt Crawfurd—she will only speculate on your dresses—that is the question, Susan."
[II.—THE ORDEAL.]
"Would you not have liked to have gone with the other girls, Joanna? for Conny, she must submit to be a halflin yet. But is it not dull for you only to hear of a party? country girls have few enough opportunities of being merry," observed Mr. Crawfurd, with his uneasy consciousness, and his sad habit of self-reproach.