Celia told him, with all due courtesy, that she really did mean to refuse him.
‘You might do worse,’ he said, dolefully.
‘No doubt I might. Some rather vulgar person has compared matrimony to a bag of snakes, in which there is only one eel. Perhaps you are the one eel. But then you see I am not obliged to marry anybody. I can go on like Queen Elizabeth,
‘“In maiden meditation, fancy free.”’
‘That’s not likely,’ said Mr. Sampson moodily. ‘A young lady of your stamp won’t remain single. You’re too attractive and too lively. No, you’ll marry some scamp for the sake of his good looks; and perhaps the day will come when you’ll remember this evening, and feel sorry that you rejected an honest man’s offer.’
They were at the house by this time, much to Celia’s relief, as she felt that the conversation could hardly be carried on further without unpleasantness.
She stopped in the hall, and offered her hand to her dejected admirer.
‘Shake hands, Mr. Sampson, to show that you bear no malice,’ she said. ‘Be assured I shall always like and respect you as a friend of our family.’
She did not wait for his answer, but tripped lightly upstairs, determined not to make her appearance again that evening.
Tom Sampson was inclined to return to his own house, without waiting to say good night to his client, but while he stood in the hall making up his mind on this point, John Treverton came out of the dining-room to look for him.