"Still, I think she has a preference; and, if I am not mistaken, her choice is one that would give us the highest satisfaction."
"Really!" ejaculated Maurice, unsuspiciously. "Whom, then, does she honor by her election?"
"A very unworthy person!" rejoined the count, in a tone of irritation, "since he is too dull to suspect the compliment."
"You cannot mean"—began Maurice, in confused amazement, but paused, unwilling to finish his sentence with the words that rose to his lips.
"I mean a most obtuse and insensible young man, walking by my side, who has learned to interpret Greek and Latin at college, but not a woman's heart."
"Impossible! You are surely mistaken. Bertha has only bestowed upon me a cousinly regard," answered Maurice, evidently more surprised and embarrassed than pleased by the unexpected communication.
"I presume you do not expect the young lady herself to make known the esteem in which she holds you, undeserving as you are? You must take our word for her sentiments. What this alliance would be to our falling house, I need not represent; it is not even necessary that you should enter into the merits of this side of the question. You must see that Bertha is beautiful and lovable, and would make the most delightful companion for life. Is this not so?"
"Yes, she is beautiful, lovable, and would make a delightful companion," answered Maurice, as though he echoed his father's words without knowing what he said.
"Is she not all you could desire?"
"All,—all I could desire as—as—as a sister!" replied Maurice.