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tion, Fanny presented them to her mother, considerately informing her, at the same time, that they were done by Miss Dashwood.
“Hum”—said Mrs. Ferrars—“very pretty,”—and without regarding them at all, returned them to her daughter.
Perhaps Fanny thought for a moment that her mother had been quite rude enough,—for, colouring a little, she immediately said,
“They are very pretty, ma'am—an’t they?” But then again, the dread of having been too civil, too encouraging herself, probably came over her, for she presently added,
“Do you not think they are something in Miss Morton’s stile of painting, ma'am?—She does paint most delightfully!—How beautifully her last landscape is done!”
“Beautifully indeed! But she does every thing well.”
Marianne
