So you really think, Edmund, your father will not be out after it is dark? I have not known, my Lord, that he has for many years; rather than venture, I believe, he would stop the night at Oxford. Very composedly he said this, for I watched his looks narrowly.-- Edmund, confess, confess _frankly_, said I; has not _this_ day been the longest you ever knew? The longest I ever knew! Faith your Lordship was never more out: far from thinking so, I am startled to find how fast the hours have flown; and want the addition of at least three, to answer letters which my father's business requires. Business, _Edmund!_ and does _business_ really engross so much of your attention, when you know _who_ is expected in the evening? Ah! _Edmund_, you are a sly fellow: never tell me, you want to lengthen out the tedious hours of _absence_. _Tedious hours of absence!_ Ho! ho! my Lord, I see _now_ what you are at; your Lordship can never suppose me _such_ a fool as to-- Fool!--My supposition, _Edmund_, pronounces you a man of sense; but you mistake my meaning. I do not mistake, my Lord; surely it must be the height of folly to lift my thoughts to Miss Warley. Suppose my father can give me a few thousands,--are these sufficient to purchase beauty, good sense, with every accomplishment?--No, no, my Lord, I am not such a vain fellow;--Miss Warley was never born for _Edmund Jenkings_--She told me _so_, the first moment I beheld her. _Told you so?_ what then, you have made pretensions to her, and she told you _so?_ Yes, my Lord, she told, me _so_.--That is, her _eyes_, her whole graceful _form_, spoke it.--Was I a man of family,--a man of title, with a proper knowledge of the world,--I would not deliberate a moment. How comes it then, Edmund, that you are so assiduous to oblige her?--You would not run and fly for every young lady.-- True, my Lord, it is not every one would repay me with smiles of condescension. Suffer me to assure your Lordship, when I can oblige Miss Warley, my ambition is gratified.--Never, _never_ shall a more presumptuous wish intrude to make me less worthy of the honour I receive from your Lordship's notice.-- This he spoke with energy;--such energy,--as if he had come at the book of my heart, and was reading its contents. I knew his regard for my dear amiable girl, and the danger of betraying my secret, or should have treated him with unbounded confidence:--I therefore only applauded his sentiments;--told him a man who could think thus nobly,--honour'd me in his friendship;--that mine to him should be unalterable; call'd him brother; and by the joyful perturbations of my soul, I fear I gave him some idea of what I strove to hide.