Julia, as she descended the stairs, and stepped into the carriage, wondered how Edmund could love a comparative stranger, as Lady Susan certainly was, so much as to be rendered thus unhappy on her account: but he was unhappy, and therefore she would never be unkind to him again! She could not, it was true, have the same pleasure in feeling that excessive friendship for him now, as when she thought her friendship was all the happiness he desired: yet, if it was all the happiness he possessed, it should never be taken from him.
Before the company quitted the drawing-room for the carriages, a trifling circumstance occurred, which we omitted mentioning in its place. We shall, however, relate it now, as it may hereafter be remembered with interest. At the time that Edmund, as we have already described, moved towards Julia, Henry happened to take up nearly the same relative position with respect to Arthur, which our hero had filled the moment before. The boy, who had not noticed the change, laid hold of the side of Henry’s coat, very gently; and having long had the habit of thinking and speaking of his father with a degree both of seriousness and of mystery, on account of his unhappy state of mind, he said in a whisper: “But where is poor papa?”
“They proudly brook the bit and rein, yet yield The arching neck to page’s soft caress.”
The carriages, as is the custom at the Ayr races, drove to a stand-house, the upper story of which consists of one large room three sides glass. Here all the female part of the best company collect, while the gentlemen, in general, at least the younger ones, ride about the course, and, from time to time, join their parties in the stand-house, fraught with intelligence respecting the horses, &c. All was new to the sisters. Every equipage that drove up, produced enquiries as to who those were descending from it, &c.
“Blair is riding this way, I see,” said Colonel Morven to Frances, “he is going to behave prettily, and hand Mrs. Blair and his daughter out of the carriage. Mrs. Blair is a very charming woman!”
“Which did you say was Mr. Blair?” asked Frances.
“Mr.!” repeated the Colonel, “pray do not insult my friend Blair, by calling him Mr.! we have no such appellation among our Scotchmen of any consequence.” “What, then, is his title?” demanded Frances. “No actual title.—He is Blair of Blair—the head of an ancient family, and must not be mister’d like a nobody!” Another barouche drove up. “Here comes Auchencru’s carriage,” said the Colonel. “Is that Mrs. Auchencru stepping out now?” asked Frances. “Mrs. Oswald,” said the Colonel. “Why, did you not say the name was Auchen——something?” “The name of Oswald’s place is Auchencru, and, in Scotland, you must always call men by the names of their places;—not so their ladies.” “I see I must never speak to or of any one while I am in Scotland!” cried Frances.