“Very! for a young lady after a leveret.” There was a quiet sarcasm in the tone of his reply which was not lost upon her; she shrugged her shoulders, and, turning away with a significant “Humph!” asked me how I had enjoyed the fun. I replied that I saw no fun in the matter; but admitted that I had not observed the transaction very narrowly. “Didn’t you see how it doubled—just like an old hare? and didn’t you hear it scream?” “I’m happy to say I did not.” “It cried out just like a child.” “Poor little thing! What will you do with it?” “Come along—I shall leave it in the first house we come to. I don’t want to take it home, for fear papa should scold me for letting the dog kill it.” Mr. Weston was now gone, and we too went on our way; but as we returned, after having deposited the hare in a farm-house, and demolished some spice-cake and currant-wine in exchange, we met him returning also from the execution of his mission, whatever it might be. He carried in his hand a cluster of beautiful bluebells, which he offered to me; observing, with a smile, that though he had seen so little of me for the last two months, he had not forgotten that bluebells were numbered among my favourite flowers. It was done as a simple act of goodwill, without compliment or remarkable courtesy, or any look that could be construed into “reverential, tender adoration” (_vide_ Rosalie Murray); but still, it was something to find my unimportant saying so well remembered: it was something that he had noticed so accurately the time I had ceased to be visible. “I was told,” said he, “that you were a perfect bookworm, Miss Grey: so completely absorbed in your studies that you were lost to every other pleasure.” “Yes, and it’s quite true!” cried Matilda. “No, Mr. Weston: don’t believe it: it’s a scandalous libel. These young ladies are too fond of making random assertions at the expense of their friends; and you ought to be careful how you listen to them.” “I hope _this_ assertion is groundless, at any rate.” “Why? Do you particularly object to ladies studying?” “No; but I object to anyone so devoting himself or herself to study, as to lose sight of everything else. Except under peculiar circumstances, I consider very close and constant study as a waste of time, and an injury to the mind as well as the body.” “Well, I have neither the time nor the inclination for such transgressions.” We parted again.