"I do, Cosmo Crawford," she replied, trembling very much, but speaking, nevertheless, firmly; "I do once and for ever refuse you."
Young and inexperienced though the girl was, the abrupt and systematic proposal of the Master rather insulted than flattered her.
"No tie," she added, "save a fancied one made by Lady Rohallion, ever bound us; so there are no pledges to return, no bonds, nor—I can't help laughing—hearts to break."
"And this desire to—to—" he stammered.
"It was your mother's idea alone."
"Say not so, Miss Warrender, it is mine also. Though I know that my good mother, because she jilted some fellow in her youth—my father's younger brother, I believe—thinks she makes atonement to the gods, or whoever rule these little matters of love and marriage, by making as many miserable matches, and marrying right off as many persons as she can."
"Miserable matches! So she conceived one for us. You are very encouraging and complimentary to say so just after your offer to me."
"Pardon me; but consider, my dear Flora," he resumed, while rallying a little, though sorely provoked to find himself confused and baffled by a country girl, of whose rejection he felt actually ashamed to tell his own mother, "are you not labouring under some deuced misconception in giving this very decided, and, I must say, very extraordinary refusal?"
"How?"
"Is it not, that to the affection and rank I proffer, you prefer the absurd love of a silly upstart, who shall go hence as he came hither, no one knows or cares how—a waif cast on the shore like a piece of dead seaweed, or the drowned renegade his father—a creature whose past affords no hope of a brilliant future! Speak, girl," he exclaimed, while almost savagely he grasped her wrist; "is it this that prevails with you, in opposition to the wishes of your dead mother and the whole family of Rohallion?"