The blush deepened on her cheek, but she did not reply.
“And what am I to think of this penniless young man, who uses his position in my family to wile the affections of my niece—an heiress? Would it not be a fair and rational conclusion to set him down as an unprincipled fortune-hunter?”
Rosalie started. Her eyes flashed, her lips quivered. She exclaimed—
“Uncle, you do not believe that—you do not!”
“Would it not be fair to believe it?”
“Uncle, you are a noble-hearted being—you always recognise true nobility in others. Uncle, be just to Mr. Sutherland—nay, be just to yourself—unsay your words.”
“Why, Rosalie, ninety-nine out of a hundred would call your lover a fortune-hunter.”
“Oh, sir, they could not—they could not! knowing that Mr. Sutherland voluntarily renounced a large fortune for an idea of duty.”
“At any rate, Rosalie, here are the naked facts: Mark Sutherland, being quite penniless, and well knowing that he has no way on earth of supporting a wife, makes the best use of his opportunities to woo and win an heiress!”
Rosalie dropped her face into her hands; her bosom heaved convulsively, as with some inward struggle, for an instant, and then lifting a countenance blushing and tearful, yet gently resolute, she said, in a faltering voice: