“And so—and so it is of Mr. Sparks’s cause you are so ardently the advocate?” she said at length, after a pause of most awkward duration.
“Why, of course, my dear cousin. It was at his suit and solicitation I called on your father; it was he himself who entreated me to take this step; it was he—”
But before I could conclude, she burst into a torrent of tears and rushed from the room.
Here was a situation! What the deuce was the matter? Did she, or did she not, care for him? Was her pride or her delicacy hurt at my being made the means of the communication to her father? What had Sparks done or said to put himself and me in such a devil of a predicament? Could she care for any one else?
“Well, Charley!” cried Mr. Blake, as he entered, rubbing his hands in a perfect paroxysm of good temper,—“well, Charley, has love-making driven breakfast out of your head?”
“Why, faith, sir, I greatly fear I have blundered my mission sadly. My cousin Mary does not appear so perfectly satisfied; her manner—”
“Don’t tell me such nonsense. The girl’s manner! Why, man, I thought you were too old a soldier to be taken in that way.”
“Well, then, sir, the best thing, under the circumstances, is to send over Sparks himself. Your consent, I may tell him, is already obtained.”
“Yes, my boy; and my daughter’s is equally sure. But I don’t see what we want with Sparks at all. Among old friends and relatives as we are, there is, I think, no need of a stranger.”
“A stranger! Very true, sir, he is a stranger; but when that stranger is about to become your son-in-law—”