composure as she could assume, "don't talk nonsense; you know I don't love little girls who tell stories, and I don't believe that Major Willoughby promised you any of those articles you were telling me of just now." "But I don't tell stories, and he did promise me," said Clara, beginning to cry. "Jenkinson told mamma you were going to marry Major Willoughby, and he said he would give me all those pretty things if you would marry him.-Did you not, Major Willoughby?" Willoughby, now finding himself called upon to speak, was devising how best to explain the awkward affair, when, to his inexpressible relief, they were joined by Ellinor and her two companions, "What is the matter with you, Clara?" said Ellinor, on observing that she was crying. "Because," answered the child," aunt Catherine says I tell stories." “Is that all "” said Ellinor; "I thought she had whipped you, from that rueful countenance of yours; but come," she said, addressing Catherine, "let us have another turn on the sands before we go home." But Catherine was too much afraid of the remarks of Clara to risk their recurrence; and, turning to Ellinor, she said, “ I fear I must leave you, as I have got a little of a headach. But don't let me interrupt your walk, I shall take Clara home with me." And making a slight bow to the whole party, she turned, and left them. Willoughby, who would have given worlds to have been her companion, but hesitated from the fear of annoying her, at last stepped forward, and said, he hoped Miss Dundas would allow him to have the honour of seeing her home, which Catherine pretending not to hear, called to Clara, Come away, come away; mamma will think you are drowned in the sea." 66 Suspecting that Catherine heard his request, Willoughby was still standing irresolute, whether or not he should follow, when Ashley quitted his party, and joined her; while Catherine, whose heart beat quick on hearing steps behind her, lest it should be Willoughby, was partly relieved, and partly disappointed, when Ashley's voice saluted her ear. 66 Why, Miss Dundas," he said on joining her, "I must confess, you walk at a pretty round pace; you must not pretend to be a fine lady with such a step as that; it was all I could do to reach you, though you were but a few paces in advance of me." "I was always a very quick walker,” replied she with a smile; "indeed, most unfashionably so; my cousin frequently complains of me. But if I can't be stamped fashionable until I learn to drag one limb after another, at the rate of a quarter of a mile in the hour, I must be contented to remain unfashionable as long as I live." From this they got into a discussion on the elegant walk of the Spanish ladies; on which subject we must confess Catherine did not hear above half what her companion said, and her replies were sometimes not quite to the purpose; nor was she sorry when they reached home, where having wished Ashley good morning, and bestowed on him one of her most captivating smiles, as an atonement, perhaps, for the wandering of her thoughts, she retired to her own apartment, there to reflect upon the strange, and to her unaccountable, remarks of the little Clara. CHAPTER XVI. Now shall ye hear how these delights, so pure, The Lay of Sir Lanval. WHEN Mrs Lennox and Catherine were sitting together in the evening, Clara, running up to the latter, said, "Do, aunt Catherine, come and play me a tune." "Play upon a Sunday, Clara ?—No, no, but I shall play to you to-morrow." "But why," asked Clara, as she seated herself beside Catherine," why won't you play on Sunday, when mamma plays to me? is she naughty?" This was rather a puzzling question, but Catherine replied to it the best way she could. |