“I would have come without an umbrella, but Mr. Weston offered me the benefit of his, and I could not have refused it more than I did without offending him,” replied I, smiling placidly; for my inward happiness made that amusing, which would have wounded me at another time. The carriage was now in motion. Miss Murray bent forwards, and looked out of the window as we were passing Mr. Weston. He was pacing homewards along the causeway, and did not turn his head. “Stupid ass!” cried she, throwing herself back again in the seat. “You don’t know what you’ve lost by not looking this way!” “What has he lost?” “A bow from me, that would have raised him to the seventh heaven!” I made no answer. I saw she was out of humour, and I derived a secret gratification from the fact, not that she was vexed, but that she thought she had reason to be so. It made me think my hopes were not entirely the offspring of my wishes and imagination. “I mean to take up Mr. Weston instead of Mr. Hatfield,” said my companion, after a short pause, resuming something of her usual cheerfulness. “The ball at Ashby Park takes place on Tuesday, you know; and mamma thinks it very likely that Sir Thomas will propose to me then: such things are often done in the privacy of the ball-room, when gentlemen are most easily ensnared, and ladies most enchanting. But if I am to be married so soon, I must make the best of the present time: I am determined Hatfield shall not be the only man who shall lay his heart at my feet, and implore me to accept the worthless gift in vain.” “If you mean Mr. Weston to be one of your victims,” said I, with affected indifference, “you will have to make such overtures yourself that you will find it difficult to draw back when he asks you to fulfil the expectations you have raised.” “I don’t suppose he will ask me to marry him, nor should I desire it: that would be rather too much presumption! but I intend him to feel my power. He has felt it already, indeed: but he shall _acknowledge_ it too; and what visionary hopes he may have, he must keep to himself, and only amuse me with the result of them—for a time.” “Oh! that some kind spirit would whisper those words in his ear,” I inwardly exclaimed. I was far too indignant to hazard a reply to her observation aloud; and nothing more was said about Mr. Weston that day, by me or in my hearing. But next morning, soon after breakfast, Miss Murray came into the schoolroom, where her sister was employed at her studies, or rather her lessons, for studies they were not, and said, “Matilda, I want you to take a walk with me about eleven o’clock.” “Oh, I can’t, Rosalie! I have to give orders about my new bridle and saddle-cloth, and speak to the rat-catcher about his dogs: Miss Grey must go with you.” “No, I want you,” said Rosalie; and calling her sister to the window, she whispered an explanation in her ear; upon which the latter consented to go.