“Well, Robert!”
“I cannot bear this suspense! I cannot, indeed. Heart and frame are wearing out with it!”
Rosalie stole a glance at his clear, bright blue eye, and round, fresh, ruddy cheek, looking still brighter and fresher under the glossy, crisp, curling, auburn hair—and a smile lighted up her countenance.
“Ah! you may laugh! You have the hardest, the most unimpressible heart I ever saw in my life! But good and strong as my constitution is, it will break down—it will indeed, Rosalie—if you keep this up much longer. And I wish it would break down! I do so! Then perhaps you would pity me.”
“But, Robert, my pity would be very poor compensation for lost health.”
“I don’t know! If I could make you feel for me any way, or at any cost, I should be glad.”
“I do, Robert. I feel a very sincere esteem and friendship for you. Surely you cannot doubt that.”
“Oh! yes, you are good to me to a certain degree. Your heart is like a peach!”
“Like a peach!”
“Yes; it is superficially soft and impressible, but the core of it is hard and rough—hard and rough! Oh, Rosalie, can’t you try to like me a little?”