“Is it possible? and did n't you tell him, Mr. Maitland?” “I? I knew nothing of the road. To tell you the truth,” added he, in a whisper, “I cared very little where it led, so long as I sat at your side.” “Very flattering, indeed! Have we passed the turn to the lower road very far, George?” “Yes, ma'am; it's a good five miles behind us, and a bad bit of road too,--all fresh stones.” “And you were so anxious to call at the cottage?” said she, addressing Maitland, with a smile of some significance. “Nothing of the kind. I made some sort of silly promise to make a visit as I passed. I 'm sure I don't know why, or to gratify whom.” “Oh, cruel Mr. Maitland, false Mr. Maitland I how can you say this? But are we to go back?--that is the question; for I see George is very impatient, and trying to make the horses the same.” “Of course not. Go back! it was all the coachman's fault,--took the wrong turning, and never discovered his blunder till we were--I don't know where.” “Tilney, George,--go on,” said she; then turning to Maitland, “and do you imagine that the charming Sally Graham or the fascinating Rebecca will understand such flimsy excuses as these, or that the sturdy old Commodore will put up with them?” “I hope so, for their sakes at least; for it will save them a world of trouble to do so.” “Ungrateful as well as perfidious! You were a great favorite with the Grahams. Beck told me, the night before they left the Abbey, that you were the only _élégant_--exquisite she called it--she ever met that was n't a fool.” “The praise was not extravagant. I don't feel my cheek growing hot under it.” “And Sally said that if she had not seen with her own eyes, she'd never have believed that a man with such a diamond ring, and such wonderful pendants to his watch, could hook an eight-pound salmon, and bring him to land.” “That indeed touches me,” said he, laying his hand over his heart. “And old Graham himself declared to my father that if one of his girls had a fancy that way, though you were n't exactly his style of man, nor precisely what he 'd choose--” “Do spare me. I beseech you, have _some_ pity on me.” “That he'd not set himself against it; and that, in fact, with a good certificate as to character, and the approved guarantee of respectable people, who had known you some years--” “I implore you to stop.” “Of course I'll stop when you tell me the theme is one too delicate to follow up; but, like all the world, you let one run into every sort of indiscretion, and only cry Halt when it is too late to retire. The Grahams, however, are excellent people,--old G. G., as they call him, a distinguished officer. He cut out somebody or something from under the guns of a Spanish fort, and the girls have refused--let me see whom they have not refused; but I 'll make them tell you, for we 'll certainly call there on our way back.”