—Emily interrupted him with a laugh, which John took very good-naturedly, repeating his remark without alluding to their sister.
"Yes," said Emily, "he is genteel in his deportment, if that be what you mean; I know nothing of his family."
"Oh, I have taken a peep into Jane's Baronetage, where I find him set down as Sir Edgar's heir."
"There is something about him," said Emily, musing, "that I do not much admire: he is too easy—there is no nature; I always feel afraid such people will laugh at me as soon as my back is turned, and for those very things they seem most to admire to my face. If I might be allowed to judge, I should say his manner wants one thing, without which no one can be truly agreeable."
"What's that?"
"Sincerity."
"Ah! that's my great recommendation; but I am afraid I shall have to take the poacher up, with his quails and his pheasants, indeed."
"You know the colonel explained that to be a mistake."
"What they call explaining away; but unluckily I saw the gentleman returning with his gun on his shoulder, and followed by a brace of pointers."
"There's a specimen of the colonel's manners, then," said Emily, smiling; "it will do until the truth be known."
"And Jane, when she saw him also, praised his good nature and consideration, in what she was pleased to call relieving the awkwardness of my remark."
Emily finding her brother disposed to dwell on the foibles of Jane, a thing he was rather addicted to at times, was silent. They rode some distance before John, who was ever as ready to atone as he was to offend, again apologized, again promised reformation, and during the remainder of the ride only forgot himself twice more in the same way.
They reached F two hours before the lumbering coach of their uncle drove into the yard of the inn, and had sufficient time to refresh their own horses for the journey homeward.
