“So suddenly, so unexpectedly must I lose you?”
“No great loss, my Lord,” cried I, endeavouring to speak cheerfully.
“Is it possible,” said he gravely, “Miss Anville can doubt my sincerity?”
“I can’t imagine,” cried I, “what Mrs. Selwyn has done with these books.”
“Would to Heaven,” continued he, “I might flatter myself you would allow me to prove it!”
“I must run up stairs,” cried I, greatly confused, “and ask what she has done with them.”
“You are going, then,” cried he, taking my hand, “and you give me not the smallest hope of your return!-will you not, then, my too lovely friend!-will you not, at least, teach me, with fortitude like your own, to support your absence?”
“My Lord,” cried I, endeavouring to disengage my hand, “pray let me go!”
“I will,” cried he, to my inexpressible confusion, dropping on one knee, “if you wish to leave me!”
“O, my Lord,” exclaimed I, “rise, I beseech you, rise!-such a posture to me!-surely your Lordship is not so cruel as to mock me!”