“He has never breathed a word of love to me.”
“Then how the deuce do you know that he loves you, girl?”
“Oh, by every glance of his eyes, by every tone of his voice, and by my own heart! Oh, father, do you think I would bear to tell you this, if I were not sure of it.”
“Umph, umph! But why don’t he speak?—that’s what I want to know! Why don’t he speak?”
“Dear father, can you not comprehend that he is too proud to do so?”
“Too proud! By my word! It is a new hearing that a Howe should be too proud to seek an alliance with a Berners!” exclaimed old Bertram hotly, rising from his chair.
“Old age ne’er cooled the Douglas blood,”
and it had not cooled his.
Sybil smiled to see how utterly he had misunderstood her, and making him sit down again, she said,
“You dear old darling, it is not that! It is the very opposite to that. It is because he is poor and we are rich, and he is too proud to be called a fortune-hunter.”