"Sometimes one's first love is a silly affair," remarked Tom, looking inquisitively, yet alarmed, at his companion.
"They may be silly, and they may be objectionable, Mr. Pynsent; but they destroy happiness at the time, and a first sorrow is the bitterest."
"I think I could love a second time just as well as I did at first, if I knew a nice girl liked me, and believed what I told her—" Tom Pynsent stopped. A deep sigh from Anna Maria disordered him, but it animated his courage at the same time.
"I know many people very happy with their second loves," said Tom Pynsent, looking shy.
"Men may love twice, but women never, if they really feel an attachment for an object," answered Miss Wetheral.
"I liked your sister Julia extremely, Miss Wetheral; but she did not care about me, and a man cannot always be miserable about a woman who runs out of his way. I would rather love a woman who liked me in return, and would not check me with stern looks. I am sure I should love my wife very much; and if she objected to hunting, I would never go out more than four days in the week, and I am sure she might have her own way in every thing."
Anna Maria coloured with emotion, and turned from the eager gaze of her companion; her timidity gave increased animation to the speaker, and he proceeded boldly.
"I'm sure any woman need not mind me: I am rough, but then a wife mustn't mind those little things, and if I swear, it won't be at her. A man swears to make himself understood, and sometimes one swears a little for something to do; but my wife need not mind those trifles, need she, Miss Wetheral?"
"That would depend upon circumstances."