“You here again, Master Tinker! Why, I had quite forgot all about you.”
(Heaven preserve us! how innocent girls will sometimes tell fibs out of modesty.)
“It were well for others, Miss Mathews, if their memory were equally treacherous,” rejoined Spikeman.
“And why so, pray?”
“I speak of the gentleman to whom you sent the message.”
“And what was his reply to you?”
“He acknowledged, Miss Mathews, the madness of his communication to you, of the impossibility of your giving him an answer, and of your admitting him to your presence. He admired the prudence of your conduct, but, unfortunately, his admiration only increased his love. He requested me to say that he will write no more.”
“He has done wisely, and I am satisfied.”
“I would I could say as much for him, Miss Mathews; for it is my opinion, that his very existence is now so bound up with the possession of you, that if he does not succeed he cannot exist.”
“That’s not my fault,” replied Melissa, with her eyes cast down.