‘And yet esteem is the only genuine basis of happiness, believe me, Kate. Love is a dream.’
‘And how do you know, dear Henrietta?’
‘All writers agree it is.’
‘The writers you were just ridiculing?’
‘A fair retort; and yet, though your words are the more witty, believe me, mine are the more wise.’
‘I wish my cousin would wake from his dream,’ said Katherine. ‘To tell you a secret, love is the cause of his unhappiness. Don’t move, dear Henrietta,’ added Miss Grandison; ‘we are so happy here;’ for Miss Temple, in truth, seemed not a little discomposed.
‘You should marry your cousin,’ said Miss Temple.
‘You little know Ferdinand or myself, when you give that advice,’ said Katherine. ‘We shall never marry; nothing is more certain than that. In the first place, to be frank, Ferdinand would not marry me, nothing would induce him; and in the second place, I would not marry him, nothing would induce me.’
‘Why not?’ said Henrietta, in a low tone, holding her book very near to her face.
‘Because I am sure that we should not be happy,’ said Miss Grandison. ‘I love Ferdinand, and once could have married him. He is so brilliant that I could not refuse his proposal. And yet I feel it is better for me that we have not married, and I hope it may yet prove better for him, for I love him very dearly. He is indeed my brother.’