“I will not give hot for cold, nor my heart for a smile or two. I can't help admiring her, and I do hope she will be—happy—ah!—whoever she fancies. But, if I am never to command her, I won't carry a willow at my mast-head, and drift away from reason and manhood, and my duty to you, and mother, and myself.”
“Ah! David, if you could see how noble you look now. Is it a promise, David? for I know you will keep your word if once you pass it.”
“There is my hand on it, Eve.”
The brother and sister grasped hands, and when David was about to withdraw his, Eve's soft but vigorous little hand closed tighter and kept it firmer, and so they sat in silence.
“Eve.”
“My dear!”
“Now don't you be cross.”
“No, dear. Eve is sad, not cross; what is it?
“Well, Eve—dear Eve.”
“Don't be afraid to speak your mind to me—why should you?”