“Well, mother, what answer do you intend to give me?” he said. “My mind is positively made up. I should not have come to you had not that been the case. You will now be going down home, and I would wish you to treat Lucy as you yourself would wish to treat any girl to whom you knew that I was engaged.”
“But you say that you are not engaged.”
“No, I am not; but I have made my offer to her, and I have not been rejected. She has confessed that she—loves me,—not to myself, but to her brother. Under these circumstances, may I count upon your obliging me?”
There was something in his manner which almost frightened his mother, and made her think that there was more behind than was told to her. Generally speaking, his manner was open, gentle, and unguarded; but now he spoke as though he had prepared his words, and was resolved on being harsh as well as obstinate.
“I am so much taken by surprise, Ludovic, that I can hardly give you an answer. If you ask me whether I approve of such a marriage, I must say that I do not; I think that you would be throwing yourself away in marrying Miss Robarts.”
“That is because you do not know her.”
“May it not be possible that I know her better than you do, dear Ludovic? You have been flirting with her—”
“I hate that word; it always sounds to me to be vulgar.”
“I will say making love to her, if you like it better; and gentlemen under these circumstances will sometimes become infatuated.”
“You would not have a man marry a girl without making love to her. The fact is, mother, that your tastes and mine are not exactly the same; you like silent beauty, whereas I like talking beauty, and then—”