“But you have not really decided to accept the Marquis Tounnerre?”
“No. I have not quite decided. I like to stand between Yes and No. I like to be entreated to marry, and then again, to be entreated NOT to marry. I like to hesitate between the French and the Dutch. I am not in the least sure on which side I shall finally range myself.”
“Then do not decide in a hurry.”
“Have I not told you I like to waver, and vacillate, and oscillate, and make scruples? These are things a woman can do, both with privilege and inclination. I think myself to be very clever in such ways.”
“I would not care, nor dare, to venture—”
“You are a very baby yet. I am two years older than you. But indeed you are progressing with some rapidity. What about George Hyde?”
“You said he had gone out of town.”
“And I am glad of it. He will not now be insinuating himself with violets, and compelling you to take walks with him on the Battery. Oh, Cornelia! you see I am not to be put out of your confidence. Why did you not tell me?”
“You have given me no opportunity; and, as you know all, why should I say any more about it?”
“Cornelia, my dear companion, I fear you are inclined to concealment and to reticence, qualities a young girl should not cultivate—I am now speaking for dear Sister Maria Beroth—and I hope you will carefully consider the advantages you will derive from cultivating a more open disposition.”