“From what you have seen of him, what do you think?” “Let me see,” she replied, pausing; “why, that he'll meet very few who will think so highly of him as he does of himself.” “He thinks very highly of you, then.” “How do you know that?” she asked somewhat quickly. “Faith, Maria, from the best authority--because he himself told me so.” “So, then, I have had the honor of furnishing you with a topic of conversation?” “Unquestionably, and you may prepare yourself for a surprise. He's attached to you.” “I think not,” she replied calmly. “Why so?” he asked. “Because, if you wish to know the truth, I do not think him capable of attachment to any one but himself.” “Faith, a very good reason, Maria; but, seriously, if he should introduce the subject, I trust, at all events, that you will treat him with respect.” “I shall certainly respect myself, Harry. He need not fear that I shall read him one of my uncle's lectures upon life and honesty.” “I have promised not to be his enemy in the matter, and I shall keep my word.” “So you may, Harry, with perfect safety. I am much obliged to him for his good opinion; but”--she paused. “What do you stop at, Maria?” “I was only about to add,” she replied, “that I wish it was mutual.” “You wish it,” he exclaimed. “What do you mean by that, Maria?” She laughed. “Don't you know it is only a form of speech? a polite way of saying that he does not rank high in my esteem?” “Well, well,” he replied, “settle that matter between you; perhaps the devil is not so black as he's painted.” “A very unhappy illustration,” said his sister, “whatever has put it into your head.' “Faith, and I don't know what put it there. However, all I can say in the matter I have already said. I am not, nor shall I be, his enemy. I'll trouble you, as you're near it, to touch the bell till George gets the horse. I am going up to his father's, now. Shall I tell him that John Wallace is discarded; that he will be received with smiles, and that--” “How can you be so foolish, Harry?” “Well, good-bye, at any rate. You are perfectly capable of deciding for yourself, Maria.” “I trust so,” she replied. “There's George with your horse now.” “It's a blue look-up, Master Hycy,” said Clinton to himself as he took his way to Burke's. “I think you have but little chance in that quarter, oh, most accomplished Hycy, and indeed I am not a whit sorry; but should be very much so were it otherwise.”