Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

Georgiana comforted her, assured her that what had happened would never make the slightest difference to Mr. Price, laughingly reproached her with having run away, saying that no one would have perceived anything out of the ordinary but for that, and counselled her to behave just as usual when she met the others again, and everything would be forgotten. Nevertheless, Kitty was far from comfortable during the rest of their stay, and was in continual expectation of some occurrence which might affect Mr. Price's attitude towards her, although the cheerful friendliness of his manner never varied.

This apprehension rendered her particularly uneasy the following day, which was Sunday. They all went to church, where the service was read by a stranger, and Kitty's sensibility was sorely tried by having to listen to various questions asked by their visitors during the walk back. Was that the regular clergyman? He was absent; ah, indeed! Was he a pleasant neighbour? a good preacher? And so that was the Rectory; what a commodious, attractive-looking house! No doubt the parson was a married man, and he was certainly a lucky fellow to be so circumstanced, commented Mr. Bertram. Bingley made brief answers out of compassion for Kitty, and Jane began a conversation with the two girls about something different; but she could not attend. It was so distressing to think of Mr. Morland, whom Bingley praised so highly and whom the others thought so enviable, having been driven away from home on her account; that a man so charming and so desirable should have fallen in love with her when she was not able to care for him. There seemed something particularly unfortunate, particularly wasteful, about the whole affair! If he had been a Mr. Collins, that nobody, not even Maria Lucas, would have minded refusing! Poor Kitty walked home silently, and as far from Mr. Price as possible, with her muff held up to conceal a countenance which she knew was unfit to be seen.

On Monday, Bingley and Mr. Bertram went out hunting, and the ladies, escorted by Mr. Price, drove to the spot where the foxhounds were to meet, in the hope of seeing a little sport. Bingley had offered to mount Mr. Price also, but the latter had declined, laughingly declaring that, like all sailors, he was not much of a horseman, and though he had once hunted from Mansfield Park when he was a careless youngster, he thought it would be wiser not to venture over the Derbyshire country, with its rough moors and high stone walls, on a borrowed horse. "It is most kind of you, Mr. Bingley," he said; "and for my cousin, it is all right, for he has hunted here before. But I am sure you would not be pleased, if you saw me come crashing down at the first big fence, with your hundred-guinea hunter doubled up in the further ditch."

The ladies held up hands of horror, but Bingley, much amused, said he would not believe a word of it, and that he felt sure Mr. Price could ride as well as he could shoot. William shook his head.

"I have ridden all sorts of horses at different times, when occasion has required it, and have even managed to adhere to the animal as a rule; but my good luck might desert me to-day. Perhaps you will let me go for a jogging ride along the lanes before I go, on your least valuable horse."

"Seeing that I am in charge of you just now, William, I highly applaud your decision," said his cousin, "as I don't want to have to send you back to Portsmouth with a broken neck, which is certainly what could happen."

"You in charge of me! I like that," exclaimed William. "Say much more, and I will borrow a gypsy's donkey and come to meet you on it, announcing to everybody that I am bringing along your second mount."

Mrs. Bingley was a little afraid of the cold wind, and decided not to go, so Mr. Price took his seat in the barouche with the other three, and greatly enhanced the gaiety of their party. They drove about for more than two hours, and when at last, the hunt having gone away among the hills, they decided to turn homewards, Mr. Price created consternation among his fair companions by asking permission to get out and walk.

"Walk, Mr. Price?" exclaimed Miss Bingley, who, placed on the front seat, had assumed the direction of the party. "Why should you want to walk? And in this desolate wilderness! Why, we must be six or seven miles from home."

"Yes, I thought it was about that," said William "I rather wanted a walk, and do you know, I like this desolate wilderness, as you call it. I should enjoy exploring my way homewards, and I have noted all the landmarks. It is so cold, too; a splendid day for a walk."