“Not for persuading an inexperienced young girl, of high rank, to give him interviews in the woods? What do you mean?”
“Mamma, hear me! Captain Montrose wished nothing better than your sanction to pay his addresses openly to your daughter. He wrote to you and wrote to my grandfather, earnestly entreating such sanction; and his overtures were rejected by both!”
“And properly so!”
“And why, mamma? Oh! why? He is certainly a gentleman of ancient family of unblemished character, and of good position! Why were his proposals so curtly rejected? At least, dear mamma, you owe it to me to give a reason!” pleaded Alma.
“It should be a reason sufficient to satisfy you, Alma, that neither Lord Elverton nor myself chose to favor his addresses.”
“But it is not, mamma! My beating heart cannot be answered so!” said Alma, earnestly.
“Then I have no other answer to give you, Miss Elverton!” said the lady, freezingly.
“Oh, mother, mother, do not speak to me so coldly; if you knew how sad my life is you would not do it! But, mother, let me talk to you a little of Norham,” prayed Alma.
“In my youth, and in my country, young ladies never talked of their lovers, but blushed when others named them. I know not, however, but that a few years of time and a few miles of space may alter customs,” said Mrs. Elverton, ironically.
“I know not, mamma; but if anywhere young women blush to hear their lovers named, it must be because they are happy in their loves; for if it were otherwise it seems to me that their cheeks would pale, not redden.”