Fired by the lady's coldness, he
poured forth a volley of reproaches; and ended by wishing, as he said, a
good morning, for ever and ever, to one who could change her opinion,
point blank, like the weathercock. "I am, miss, your most obedient; and
I expect you'll never think no more of poor Brian O'Neill and the
Limerick gloves."
If he had not been in too great a passion to observe anything, poor Brian
O'Neill would have found out that Phoebe was not a weathercock: but he
left her abruptly, and hurried away, imagining all the while that it was
Phoebe, and not himself, who was in a rage. Thus, to the horseman who is
galloping at full speed, the hedges, trees, and houses seem rapidly to
recede, whilst, in reality, they never move from their places. It is he
that flies from them, and not they from him.
On Monday morning Miss Jenny Brown, the perfumer's daughter, came to pay
Phoebe a morning visit, with face of busy joy.
"So, my dear!" said she: "fine doings in Hereford! But what makes you
look so downcast? To be sure you are invited, as well as the rest of
us."
"Invited where?" cried Mrs. Hill, who was present, and who could never
endure to hear of an invitation in which she was not included. "Invited
where, pray, Miss Jenny?"
"La! have not you heard? Why, we all took it for granted that you and
Miss Phoebe would have been the first and foremost to have been asked to
Mr.
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