“No!”
“No?”
“I gave it him at the stile! Let us be serious, if you please; I have a confidence to make you, Ipsden. Frankly, I owe you some apology for my conduct of late; I meant to be reserved—I have been rude—but you shall judge me. A year ago you made me some proposals; I rejected them because, though I like you—”
“You like me?”
“I detest your character. Since then, my West India estate has been turned into specie; that specie, the bulk of my fortune, placed on board a vessel; that vessel lost, at least we think so—she has not been heard of.”
“My dear cousin.”
“Do you comprehend that now I am cooler than ever to all young gentlemen who have large incomes, and” (holding out her hand like an angel) “I must trouble you to forgive me.”
He kissed her lovely hand.
“I esteem you more and more,” said he. “You ought, for it has been a hard struggle to me not to adore you, because you are so improved, mon cousin.”
“Is it possible? In what respect?”