‘Then you do sometimes attempt to interfere?’ said her father, somewhat surprised at the observation, and not suspecting that she had heard one word of what had passed, every syllable of which was carefully stored in the treasury of her bosom. The young lady perceived that she was proceeding a little too quickly, and drew in her horns. ‘All,’ said she, ‘that I meant to remark was, that he is not very tractable, which I regret;’ and she contrived to give a sigh. ‘Why should you regret it so particularly?’ inquired her father, a little struck at the peculiar accent with which she had expressed herself. ‘I cannot tell,’ was her adroit reply; and then she added, in a brisker tone,--‘But I wonder what business I have to trouble myself about him?’ For some time her father made no return to this; but, pushing back his chair from the tea-table till he had reached the chimney-corner, he leant his elbow on the mantelpiece, and appeared for several minutes in a state of profound abstraction. In the meantime, Mrs. Walkinshaw had continued the conversation with her daughter, observing to her that she did, indeed, think her cousin must be a very headstrong lad; for he had spoken that night to her father in such a manner as had not only astonished but distressed him. ‘However,’ said she,--‘he is still a mere boy; and, I doubt not, will, before long is past, think better of what his uncle has been telling him.’ ‘I am extremely sorry,’ replied Robina, with the very voice of the most artless sympathy, though, perhaps, a little more accentuated than simplicity would have employed--‘I am very sorry, indeed, that any difference has arisen between him and my father. I am sure I have always heard him spoken of as an amiable and very deserving young man. I trust it is of no particular consequence.’ ‘It is of the utmost consequence,’ interposed her father; ‘and it is of more to you than to any other besides.’ ‘To me, Sir! how is that possible?--What have I to do with him, or he with me? I am sure, except in being more deficient in his civilities than those of most of my acquaintance, I have had no occasion to remark anything particular in his behaviour or conduct towards me.’ ‘I know it--I know it,’ exclaimed her father; ‘and therein lies the source of all my anxiety.’ ‘I fear that I do not rightly understand you,’ said the cunning girl. ‘Nor do I almost wish that you ever should; but, nevertheless, my heart is so intent on the business, that I think, were you to second my endeavours, the scheme might be accomplished.’ ‘The scheme?--What scheme?’ replied the most unaffected Robina. ‘In a word, child,’ said her father, ‘how would you like James as a husband?’ ‘How can I tell?’ was her simple answer. ‘He has never given me any reason to think on the subject.’ ‘You cannot, however, but long have seen that it was with me a favourite object?’