“But oh, what nonsense, Julie! You must not let him. You give way to such thoughts. How can you be so foolish?”
“Is it foolish? I strive against the thoughts till I feel half mad, but I cannot get rid of them, and his words are ever ringing in my ears. Oh, Cynthia, sometimes I feel as if it is in vain to fight against my fate, and that I may as well be resigned.”
“Oh, Julie, Julie, Julie!” cried the spirited little maiden. “What am I to do to you—what am I to say? Shall I whip you, or scold you, or have you sent to bed without any dinner? It is too dreadful, and you shall not give way like this. Why, for shame! I know somebody who is dying of love for you.”
“Don’t name him, Cynthy dear; I detest the sight of him and his sisters.”
“No, no, I mean dear Harry’s friend, Mr Magnus.”
“Poor Mr Magnus!” said Julia, dreamily. “I am very glad he is well again.”
“But he is not quite well yet, poor dear man. I think a short stay at Hastings would do him good,” said Cynthia, archly.
“It was very brave and manly of him to do what he did,” said Julia, sadly. “I can never thank him enough.”
“Hush I walk faster; let’s get beyond those rocks, Julie,” cried her sister, excitedly. “He’s coming now.”
“Ah!”