“Sounds like Shakespeare, doesn’t it?” observed Cashel.
“Ah! the test has found you out; you are only acting after all. But that does not alter my opinion that you should apologize.”
“All right. I don’t know what you mean by testing and acting; and I only hope you know yourself. But no matter; I’ll apologize; a man like me can afford to. I’ll apologize to your cousin, too, if you like.”
“I do not like. But what has that to do with it? I suggest these things, as you must be aware, for your own sake and not for mine.”
“As for my own, I don’t care twopence: I do it all for you. I don’t even ask whether there is anything between you and him.”
“Would you like to know?” said Lydia, deliberately, after a pause of astonishment.
“Do you mean to say you’ll tell me?” he exclaimed. “If you do, I’ll say you’re as good as gold.”
“Certainly I will tell you. There is an old friendship and cousinship between us; but we are not engaged, nor at all likely to be. I tell you so because, if I avoided the question, you would draw the opposite and false conclusion.”
“I am glad of it,” said Cashel, unexpectedly becoming very gloomy. “He isn’t man enough for you. But he’s your equal, damn him!”
“He is my cousin, and, I believe, my sincere friend. Therefore please do not damn him.”