Bertie Stanhope was not prone to be very diffident of his own conversational powers, but it did seem to him that he was about to tax them almost too far. He hardly knew where to begin, and he hardly knew where he should end.
'I wish to be guided by you,' said he; 'and, indeed, in this matter, there is no one else who can set me right.'
'Oh, that must be nonsense,' said she.
'Well, listen to me now, Mrs Bold; and if you can help it, pray don't be angry with me.'
'Angry!' said she.
'Oh, indeed you will have cause to do so. You know how very much attached to you my sister Charlotte is.'
Eleanor acknowledged that she did.
'Indeed she is; I never knew her to love any one so warmly on so short an acquaintance. You know also how well she loves me?'
Eleanor now made no answer, but she felt the blood tingle in her cheek as she gathered from what he said the probable result of this double-barrelled love on the part of Miss Stanhope.
'I am her only brother, Mrs Bold, and it is not to be wondered at that she should love me. But you do not yet know Charlotte—you do not know how entirely the well-being of our family hangs on her. Without her to manage for us, I do not know how we should get on from day to day. You cannot yet have observed all this.'