“Why sorry? Come give me commission to reveal your partiality. I’ll not be too hard upon you—a hint from me will do. Hope is ever apt to interpret the slightest words to its own use, and a lover’s hope is beyond all others, sanguine.” “I never gave Lord Frederick hope.” “But you never plunged him into despair.” “His pursuit intimates that I never have, but he has no other proof.” “However light and frivolous you have been upon frivolous subjects, yet I must own, Miss Milner, that I did expect when a case of this importance came seriously before you, you would have discovered a proper stability in your behaviour.” “I do, Sir; and it was only when I was affected with a weakness, which arose from accident, that I have betrayed inconsistency.” “You then assert again, that you have no affection for my Lord Frederick?” “Not enough to become his wife.” “You are alarmed at marriage, and I do not wonder you should be so; it shews a prudent foresight which does you honour—but, my dear, are there no dangers in a single state? If I may judge, Miss Milner, there are many more to a young lady of your accomplishments, than if you were under the protection of a husband.” “My father, Mr. Dorriforth, thought your protection sufficient.” “But that protection was rather to direct your choice, than to be the cause of your not choosing at all. Give me leave to point out an observation which, perhaps, I have too frequently made before, but upon this occasion I must intrude it once again. Miss Fenton is its object—her fortune is inferior to your’s, her personal attractions are less”—— Here the powerful glow of joy, and of gratitude, for an opinion so negligently, and yet so sincerely expressed, flew to Miss Milner’s face, neck, and even to her hands and fingers; the blood mounted to every part of her skin that was visible, for not a fibre but felt the secret transport, that Dorriforth thought her more beautiful than the beautiful Miss Fenton. If he observed her blushes, he was unsuspicious of the cause, and went on. “There is, besides, in the temper of Miss Fenton, a sedateness that might with less hazard ensure her safety in an unmarried life; and yet she very properly thinks it her duty, as she does not mean to seclude herself by any vows to the contrary, to become a wife—and in obedience to the counsel of her friends, will be married within a very few weeks.” “Miss Fenton may marry from obedience, I never will.” “You mean to say, that love shall alone induce you.” “I do.” “If you would point out a subject upon which I am the least able to reason, and on which my sentiments, such as they are, are formed only from theory, (and even there, more cautioned than instructed) it is the subject of love. And yet, even that little which I know, tells me, without a doubt, that what you said yesterday, pleading for Lord Frederick’s life, was the result of the most violent and tender love.”