"Well, well, Ella," rejoined Reynolds, "I crave pardon for my heedlessness; and promise you, on that score at least, no more cause for offence in future."
"Offence!" said Ella, quickly, catching at the word: "O, no—no—not offence, Mr. Reynolds! I should be sorry to take offence at what was meant in all kindness, and with true respect; but somehow I—that is—perhaps it may not appear so to others—but I—to me it appears studied—and—and—cold;" and as she concluded, in a hesitating manner, she quickly bent her head forward, while her cheek crimsoned at the thought, that she might perhaps have ventured too far, and laid herself liable to misconstruction.
"And yet, Ella," returned Reynolds, somewhat playfully, "you resemble many others I have known, in preaching what you do not practice. You request me to lay aside all formality, and address you by your name only; while you, in that very request, apply to me the title you consider as studied, formal and cold."
"You have reference to my saying Mr. Reynolds, I presume," answered Ella; "but I see no analogy between the two; as in addressing you thus, I do but what, under the circumstances, is proper; and what, doubtless, habit has rendered familiar to your ear; while, on the other hand, no one ever thinks of calling me any thing but Ella, or at the most, Ella Barnwell—and hence all superfluities grate harshly."
"Even complimentary adjectives, eh?" asked Reynolds, with an arch look.
"Even those, Mr. Reynolds; and those most of all are offensive, I assure you."
"I thought all of your sex were fond of flattery."
"Then have you greatly erred in thinking."
"But thus says general report."
"Then, sir, general report is a slanderer, and should not be credited. Those who court flattery, are weak-minded and vain; and I trust you do not so consider all our sex."