“My dearest love—pardon! pardon! This is all a mistake!”
Spurning his clasp from her hand, she turned away in arrogant silence.
Dropping upon one knee, he took her hand again, and looking up in her face, said, in a voice of entreaty—
“My Carolyn! this is all a mistake!—the most absurd mistake! The effect of the merest absence of mind! The most ridiculous thing!”
“Oh, sir!” she answered, with slow and withering scorn, drawing her hand away again, “I do not doubt it was a mistake. I never supposed you would dare an intentional insult to my father’s daughter!”
“But, Carolyn, my dearest cousin, only permit me to explain—”
“Oh, sir, I entreat you spare me the humiliation of hearing the story!” she sneered, with curling lip.
“But, Carolyn, my dear, loved bride! My bride, that will be, to-morrow—if you will allow me to tell you all the simple truth—the reason why this young girl’s name ran in my head so.”
“Oh, sir,” she exclaimed, raising both hands, and turning away her head in loathing—“I implore you!—I most humbly beseech you to forbear! Spare me details that might shock my—delicacy!”
“Carolyn,” he said, gravely and reproachfully rising, and taking her hand—“this does not become you.”