'Now frown one little bit, please. I love to see you. I love to see a secret disclose itself ingenuously.'
'But what secret, my dear?' cried Aminta's defence of her innocence; and she gave a short frown.
'Have no fear. Mr. Secretary is not the man to be Morsfielding. And he can enjoy his repast; a very good sign. But is he remaining long?'
'He is going soon, I hear.'
'He's a good boy. I could have taken to him myself, and not dreaded a worrying. There 's this difference between you and me, though, my Aminta; one of us has the fireplace prepared for what's-his-name— "passion." Kiss me. How could you fancy you were going to have a woman for your friend and keep hidden from her any one of the secrets that blush! and with Paggy to aid! I am sure it means very little. Admiration for good handwriting is—' a smile broke the sentence.
'You're astray, Isabella.'
'Not I, dear, I'm too fond of you.'
'You read what is not.'
'What is not yet written, you mean.'
'What never could be written.'