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By Root 713 0

her position at the gate. They had neither of them seen her approach, and Mary could not be sure how long she had been there. Mr Norris had just taken Mary’s hand in order to direct the management of her bridle, but as soon as he saw Miss Price, he released it, and coloured slightly, recollecting that he had promised to ride with Fanny that morning. He moved away from Mary at once and led her horse towards the gate. ‘My dear Fanny,’ he said, as she approached, ‘I would not have incommoded you for the world, but Miss Crawford has been making such excellent progress, that I did not notice the hour. But,’ he added in a conciliatory tone, ‘there is more than time enough, and my forgetfulness may even have promoted your comfort by preventing us from setting off half an hour sooner; clouds are now coming up, and I know that you dislike riding on a hot day.’

‘My dear Edmund,’ said Fanny, with downcast eyes, ‘it is true that my delicate complexion will not now suffer from the heat as it would otherwise have done. I was wondering that you should forget me, but you have now given exactly the explanation which I ventured to make for you. Miss Crawford,’ she said, turning her gaze upon Mary, ‘I am sure that you must think me rude and impatient, by walking to meet you in this way?’

But Mary could not be provoked. ‘On the contrary,’ she said, ‘I should rather make my own apologies for keeping you waiting. But I have nothing in the world to say for myself. Such dreadful selfishness must always be forgiven,’ she said with a smile, and an arch look at Miss Price, ‘because there is no hope of a cure.’

And so saying, Mary sprang lightly down from the mare and after thanking Mr Norris for his time and attention, she walked hastily away, turning only to watch the two of them slowly ascend the rise, and disappear from her view.

Mary found her spirits unexpectedly unsettled, and carried on walking for some while, hardly knowing where she was heading, and engrossed in her own thoughts, until she suddenly became conscious of a line of ancient oak trees stretching to her right and left. She perceived at once that she must be in that very avenue of which she had heard so much, and was surprised to find that she had walked so far. She was on the point of turning back when her eye was caught by a figure seated under one of the trees, and a moment later she recognised the youngest Miss Bertram, intent on her sketch-book, inks, and pencils.

‘Will I disturb Miss Julia if I join her for a few moments?’ Mary asked as she approached the bench.

Julia looked up with a sad smile.‘In truth, Miss Crawford, I would welcome the interruption. I have been trying to capture the exact effect of the sunlight on the leaves, but it is, for the moment, eluding me.’

Mary looked over the girl’s shoulder at the drawing, and was agreeably surprised at what she saw.There was a peculiar felicity in the mixture of the colours, even if the more disciplined guidance of a proper drawing-master seemed to have been wanting. Mary could not but wonder why Sir Thomas had not provided such tuition for his daughter; the expense would be nothing to a man in his position. But putting the thought aside for the moment, she resolved to speak to Henry when she returned to the parsonage; as far as she was able to judge, Miss Julia had a more than everyday talent, and her brother might perhaps be able to offer some assistance. The two of them sat companionably for some minutes more, looking at the view and talking of poetry. Their taste was strikingly similar—the same books, the same passages were loved by each, and Julia brought all her favourite authors forward, giving Thomson, Cowper, and Scott their due reverence by turns, and finding a rapturous delight in discovering such a coincidence of preference.

‘And your sister?’ Mary enquired, after a pause. ‘Does she share your enjoyment of reading?’

Julia smiled gravely. ‘Alas, no. Maria and I used to read together at one time, but her thoughts now are all of balls and gowns and head-dresses, and other such idle vanities. No,’ she said,