‘Indeed!’ said Glastonbury, ‘a most accomplished performer, no doubt! Was she professional?’ ‘Who?’ inquired Ferdinand. ‘Your songstress.’
‘Professional! oh! ah! yes! No! she was not a professional singer, but she was fit to be one; and that is an excellent idea, too; for I would sooner, after all, be a professional singer, and live by my art, than marry against my inclination, or not marry according to it.’
‘Marry!’ said Glastonbury, rather astonished; ‘what, is she going to be married against her will? Poor devoted thing!’
‘Devoted, indeed!’ said Ferdinand; ‘there is no greater curse on earth.’
Glastonbury shook his head.
‘The affections should not be forced,’ the old man added; ‘our feelings are our own property, often our best.’
Ferdinand fell into a fit of abstraction; then, suddenly turning round, he said, ‘Is it possible that I have been away from Armine only two days? Do you know it really seems to me a year!’
‘You are very kind to say so, my Ferdinand,’ said Glastonbury.