'My poor Cherry!'
Then there was a silence; her head was on his shoulder, and she was crying silently, but so profusely that he could not tell whether her tears were all for Edgar or for new feelings stirred in her heart.
'Cherry dear, don't you think we ought to look at it reasonably? If you do not feel as if you cared for him—like a novel—yet still—'
'Hush, Felix! he is much too good to be accepted any other way.'
'I am not sure that he thinks so.'
'I do, then!' said Cherry, raising her head up indignantly. 'I should be ashamed to marry any man without! A lame, sickly, fretful thing like me ought to bring real love at least, to make up to a man for being bothered with her. Come, Felix, have done talking sensible nonsense! I know you don't wish it, so don't pretend.'
'I am making no pretence. It would be a dreadful business for me; but all the more I think I ought to make you consider.'
'Consider! Oh! I'll consider fast enough; that beautiful drawing-room, with the statues, and the conservatory—and a carriage—and going to Italy! Do you think I am going to be bribed by things like that?'
'No; but to have one so fatherly, kind, and tender—'
'As if one wanted one's husband to be fatherly!'