“I am not jesting. I wish to marry your daughter.”
“Impossible!”
“Why is it impossible?”
“Oh, because—because”—Mrs. Dengelton could not really bring herself to give the real reasons, so fenced dexterously,—“Because you see, I wish her to marry her cousin, and keep the property in the family.”
“The property will remain in the family without such a marriage,” said Crispin provokingly; “and as for your daughter, she does not love Maurice.”
“Not love Maurice!” screamed Mrs. Dengelton wrathfully.
“No, she loves me.”
“Loves you!” gasped the good lady faintly, feeling for her smelling-salts. “Oh, this is some horrible dream!”
“By no means,” replied Crispin quietly; “I really do not see why you should make such an uncomplimentary remark. I love your daughter, and I wish to marry her. Is there anything extraordinary in that?”
“Eunice could marry any one.”