“Well, I feared you and Mrs. Dodd might think I praised Dodd so, and did what little I did for him, knowing who you were, and wishing to curry favour with you by all that; and that is so underhand and paltry a way of going to work, I should despise myself.” “Oh, Mr. Hardie,” said the young lady, smiling, “How foolish: why, of course, we knew you had no idea.” “Indeed I had not; but how could you know it?” “Why, we saw it. Do you think we have no eyes? Ah, and much keener ones than gentlemen have. It is mamma and I who are to blame, if anybody; we ought to have declared ourselves: it would have been more generous, more--manly. But we cannot all be gentlemen, you know. It was so sweet to hear Edward praised by one who did not know us; it was like stolen fruit; and by one whom others praise: so, if you can forgive us our slyness, there is an end of the matter.” “Forgive you? you have taken a thorn out of my soul.” “Then I am so glad you summoned courage to speak to me without ceremony. Mamma would have done better, though; but after all, do not I know her? my mamma is all goodness and intelligence. And be assured, sir, she does you justice; and is quite sensible of your _disinterested_ kindness to dear Edward.” With this she was about to retire. “Ah! But you, Miss Dodd? with whom I have taken this unwarrantable liberty?” said Hardie imploringly. “Me, Mr. Hardie? You do me the honour to require my opinion of your performances: including of course this self-introduction?” Hardie hung his head; there was a touch of satire in the lady's voice, he thought. Her soft eyes rested demurely on him a moment; she saw he was a little abashed. “My opinion of it all is that you have been very kind to us; in being most kind to our poor Edward. I never saw, nor read of anything more generous, more manly. And then _so_ thoughtful, _so_ considerate, _so_ delicate! So instead of criticising you, as you seem to expect, his sister only blesses you, and thanks you from the very bottom of her heart.” She had begun within a polite composure borrowed from mamma; but, once launched, her ardent nature got the better: her colour rose and rose, and her voice sank and sank, and the last words came almost in a whisper; and such a lovely whisper: a gurgle from the heart; and, as she concluded, her delicate hand came sweeping out with a heaven-taught gesture of large and sovereign cordiality, that made even the honest words and the divine tones more eloquent. It was too much; the young man, ardent as herself, and not, in reality, half so timorous, caught fire; and seeing a white, eloquent hand rather near him, caught it, and pressed his warm lips on it in mute adoration and gratitude.