"It may be so. I esteem her, I admire her; and yet my impressions concerning her are harsh—perhaps uncharitable. I believe, for instance, that she is incapable of love——"
"Shirley incapable of love!"
"That she will never marry. I imagine her jealous of compromising her pride, of relinquishing her power, of sharing her property."
"Shirley has hurt your amour propre."
"She did hurt it; though I had not an emotion of tenderness, nor a spark of passion for her."
"Then, Robert, it was very wicked in you to want to marry her."
"And very mean, my little pastor, my pretty priestess. I never wanted to kiss Miss Keeldar in my life, though she has fine lips, scarlet and round as ripe cherries; or, if I did wish it, it was the mere desire of the eye."
"I doubt, now, whether you are speaking the truth. The grapes or the cherries are sour—'hung too high.'"
"She has a pretty figure, a pretty face, beautiful hair. I acknowledge all her charms and feel none of them, or only feel them in a way she would disdain. I suppose I was truly tempted by the mere gilding of the bait. Caroline, what a noble fellow your Robert is—great, good, disinterested, and then so pure!"
"But not perfect. He made a great blunder once, and we will hear no more about it."