"Why, what they really think and really feel; and I am always puzzled by any thing else."
Accordingly, about a half an hour afterwards, you might have seen the much admired Mr. Somers once more transformed into the Cousin George, and he and Fanny engaged in a very interesting tête-à-tête about old times and things.
Now, you may skip across a fortnight from this evening, and then look in at the same old library, just as the setting sun is looking in at its western window, and you will see Fanny sitting back a little in the shadow, with one straggling ray of light illuminating her pure childish face, and she is looking up at Mr. George Somers, as if in some sudden perplexity; and, dear me, if we are not mistaken, our young gentleman is blushing.
"Why, Cousin George," says the lady, "what do you mean?"
"I thought I spoke plainly enough, Fanny," replied Cousin George, in a tone that might have made the matter plain enough, to be sure.
Fanny laughed outright, and the gentleman looked terribly serious.
"Indeed, now, don't be angry," said she, as he turned away with a vexed and mortified air; "indeed, now, I can't help laughing, it seems to me so odd; what will they all think of you?"
"It's of no consequence to me what they think," said Mr. Somers. "I think, Fanny, if you had the heart I gave you credit for, you might have seen my feelings before now."
"Now, do sit down, my dear cousin," said Fanny, earnestly, drawing him into a chair, "and tell me, how could I, poor little Miss Fanny Nobody, how could I have thought any such thing with such sisters as I have? I did think that you liked me, that you knew more of my real feelings than mamma and sisters; but that you should—that you ever should—why, I am astonished that you did not fall in love with Isabella."
"That would have met your feelings, then?" said George, eagerly, and looking as if he would have looked through her, eyes, soul, and all.