He struck the iron when the bar was hot; No wonder if my eyes sent out some sparks. ‘Pause there! I thank you. You are delicate In glosing gifts;—but I, who share your blood, Am rather made for giving, like yourself, Than taking, like your pensioners. Farewell.’ He stopped me with a gesture of calm pride. ‘A Leigh,’ he said, ‘gives largesse and gives love, But gloses neither: if a Leigh could glose, He would not do it, moreover, to a Leigh, With blood trained up along nine centuries To hound and hate a lie, from eyes like yours. And now we’ll make the rest as clear; your aunt Possessed these monies.’ ‘You will make it clear, My cousin, as the honour of us both, Or one of us speaks vainly—that’s not I. My aunt possessed this sum,—inherited From whom, and when? bring documents, prove dates.’ ‘Why now indeed you throw your bonnet off, As if you had time left for a logarithm! The faith’s the want. Dear cousin, give me faith, And you shall walk this road with silken shoes, As clean as any lady of our house Supposed the proudest. Oh, I comprehend The whole position from your point of sight. I oust you from your father’s halls and lands, And make you poor by getting rich—that’s law; Considering which, in common circumstance, You would not scruple to accept from me Some compensation, some sufficiency Of income—that were justice; but, alas, I love you ... that’s mere nature!—you reject My love ... that’s nature also;—and at once, You cannot, from a suitor disallowed, A hand thrown back as mine is, into yours Receive a doit, a farthing, ... not for the world! That’s etiquette with women, obviously Exceeding claim of nature, law, and right, Unanswerable to all. I grant, you see, The case as you conceive it,—leave you room To sweep your ample skirts of womanhood; While, standing humbly squeezed against the wall, I own myself excluded from being just, Restrained from paying indubitable debts, Because denied from giving you my soul— That’s my misfortune!—I submit to it As if, in some more reasonable age, ’Twould not be less inevitable. Enough. You’ll trust me, cousin, as a gentleman, To keep your honour, as you count it, pure,— Your scruples (just as if I thought them wise) Safe and inviolate from gifts of mine.’