"Child!" she exclaimed, "you have no idea of any thing in the world but falling in love. You will find out some day that there are other feelings than that."
"But, Kitty dear," said Minnie, "didn't you notice something very peculiar about him?"
"What?"
"I noticed it. I had a good look at him. I saw that he fixed his eyes on you with—oh! such a queer look. And he was awfully sad too. He looked as if he would like to seize you and lift you on his horse and carry you off, just like young Lochinvar."
"Me!" said Mrs. Willoughby, with a strange intonation.
"Yes, you—oh yes; really now."
"Oh, you little goose, you always think of people rushing after one and carrying one off."
"Well, I'm sure I've had reason to. So many people have always been running after me, and snatching me up as if I were a parcel, and carrying me every where in all sorts of places. And I think it's too bad, and I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear—"
"What?"
"About this Scone Dacres. Don't you really think there's something very peculiarly sad, and very delightfully interesting and pathetic, and all that sort of thing, in his poor dear old face?"