'How can you, madam, accuse me of such cruelty? Is it just? Am I indeed of such a nature?' 'Yes, indeed are you, Miss: however you may flatter yourself. It is nothing but perversity that can make you trifle with the honor and happiness of your family--Now you are silent! Your fine spirit no doubt disdains to reply!' 'What can I say?' 'Say that you are a headstrong girl; acknowledge your fault, and consent to be the wife of a peer--Silent again!' 'I could wish, madam, not to make you more angry.' 'No, indeed; there is no occasion for that! You have been doing nothing else for many weeks past. For my part, I cannot conceive what your objection can be! Had that desperado been living, for whom since his death you have acknowledged what you call your weak prepossession, I should have known very well to what cause to attribute your stubbornness: but, as it is, I cannot conceive either your motives or your meaning. Nothing however is to be wondered at, in a young lady of your character. No prudent person would have dared to indulge a thought in favour of a mad adventurer, whose actions were as rash as they were insolent, whose family was mean yet had dared to oppose and even make ridiculous attempts to rival that from which you are descended, and who yet was himself an outcast of that family.' 'It is cruel, madam, to disturb the ashes of the dead!' This was the first word of retort that had escaped the chidden sufferer; and this was uttered in a voice half suffocated with passion. 'Cruel, indeed! Every thing is cruel that contradicts the wishes of young ladies, whose melting tenderness is ruinous to themselves and to every body that ought to be most dear to them.' 'You must pardon me, madam, for again and again repeating, in my own defence, that there is no part of my conduct which can justify such an accusation.' 'How, Miss! Is an avowed partiality for a fortune-hunter no proof? Is it no stain on the character of a modern young lady? Is it no insult to her family?' 'It was a partiality which had never been avowed, till death had put an end to hope. It was produced and counteracted by very extraordinary circumstances: but, however strong it might be at some moments, which I acknowledge it was, for I disdain falsehood, it was not indulged. I needed no monitor to shew me there were too many reasons why it ought not to be.' 'I have not patience. A runagate! A vagabond! A gambler! A prize fighter! One of the lowest and most contemptible of adventurers! who had betrayed his patrons, who had flown in the face of his benefactors, who was capable of every kind of malice and mischief, and who had not a single virtue!'