"Well! you little philosopher—I should think it was excellent—that—that is—if I were in your place. I suspected this from the moment you met."
"What have you suspected, Maria?—what is it you imagine has occurred?"
"What! why Seymour Delafield has been stammering—then he looked doleful—then he sighed—then he hemmed—then he said you were an angel—nay, you need not look prudish, and affect to deny it; he got as far as that before I left the room—then he turned to see if I were not coming back again to surprise him—then he fell on his knees—then he stretched out his handsome hand—it is too handsome for a man's hand!—and said take it, take me, take my name, and take my three hundred thousand dollars!—Now don't deny a syllable of it till I tell your answer."
Charlotte smiled, and taking her work, quietly seated herself at her table before she replied—
"You go through Cupid's exercise so dexterously, Maria, one is led to suspect you have seen some service."
"Not under such an officer, girl! Ah! Colonel Delafield, or General—no, Field-Marshal Delafield, is an officer that might teach"—as Miss Osgood spoke with short interruptions between her epithets, as if in search of proper terms, she dwelt a moment on the last word in such a manner as to give it a particular emphasis—Charlotte started, more perhaps from the manner than the expression, and turning her glowing face towards her friend, she cried involuntarily—
"Is it possible that you could have overheard—"
"What?"
"Nothing—what nonsense!"
"Let me tell you, Miss Prude, it is in such nonsense, however, that the happiness or misery of us poor sports of fortune, called women, in a great measure blooms or fades—now that I call poetical!—but for your answer: first you said—indeed, Mr. Delafield, this is so unexpected—though you knew well enough what was coming—then you blushed as you did a little while ago, and said I am so young—I—am but poor seventeen—then he swore you were seventy—no, no,—but he said you are old enough to be his ruling star—his destiny—his idol—his object of worship—ha! I do hit the right epithet now and then. Well—then you said you had parents, as if the poor man did not know that already, and that they must be consulted; and he desired you to ask the whole city—he defied them all to say aught against him—he was regular at church—subscribed to the widow's society, and the assembly; and in short, was called a 'good' young man, even in Wall-street."