“That they must hold me in much greater respect than I deserve to unite my name, even in thought, with yours.”
“My dear Annie, can you mean that you are undeserving of the regard of any man, however high his worth? How little do you know yourself! Believe me, it is I who should feel proud that the world should believe this so strongly that not even the disparity of years between us is considered an objection.”
“Do not talk so, dear Henry, or I shall fear I am losing one of the truest friends I have. You have always treated me with such regard as never to flatter me; pray do not begin now.”
“Indeed you do me injustice, Annie; might I not return the charge, and accuse you of flattering me?”
“No, dear cousin. How can I do otherwise than look up to, and venerate your worth, associating with you at home, as I have done for nearly three years, and receiving such constant kindness, that had I been your own young sister you could not have shown more? Do I not see you as a son and brother? and if I did not venerate you, should I not be the only one, either at home or in the world, who did not do you the justice you deserve?”
“And may I not equally have learnt to know and love you?”
“Yes, as a child, a sister, but not as the wife you need.”
“Is the disparity of years, then, in your mind so great an obstacle? Do you think it quite impossible a man of eight-and-thirty can love a girl of twenty?”
“No, not impossible.”
“But impossible that a girl of twenty could love a man of eight-and-thirty; is that it?”