"Impossible!" repeated Mr. Gregory, a cloud coming over his countenance.
"Yes—impossible! I appreciate your daughter's great merits—I admire her personal beauty—I respect her excellent qualities,—and I could have loved her dearly as a sister;—but my heart—that is not mine to give!"
"What? You love another!" ejaculated Mr. Gregory.
"For some time my affections have been devoted to a young lady, who has confessed a reciprocal attachment to me——"
"Enough—enough!" cried the unhappy father: "for my poor daughter there is now no hope! But you, Mr. Markham, will forget that this proposal was ever made;—you will bury the particulars of this visit of mine in oblivion?"
"With me the secret of your daughter's heart is sacred."
Mr. Gregory wrung the hand of our hero, and took his leave.
It is scarcely necessary to observe that Mary-Anne had not communicated to her father one word of the conversation which had taken place a few days previously between herself and Isabella, relative to Richard Markham, and which has duly been narrated in a recent chapter; neither was Richard aware that Mr. Gregory and his daughter had accidentally formed the acquaintance of Count Alteroni's family.
So affected was Richard by the interview which had just taken place, that he sought the fresh air in order to calm his mind, and divert his thoughts from the contemplation of the unhappy condition of a lovely young creature whose heart was so disinterestedly devoted to him.
He walked towards London: the night was fine, frosty, and moonlight; and he was induced to prolong his ramble. He recollected that he required a particular work which was published by a bookseller in Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury; and thither did he proceed.