“Angry? the gipsy! Am not I her godfather and her guardian? though I could not act, because I was abroad, yet her guardian I was left by her father, and love her too as well as I should a daughter of her father’s—and she to have secrets, and mysteries! that would be worse than all the rest, for mysteries are what I abhor. Madam, wherever there are secrets and mysteries in a family, take my word for it, there is somethings wrong.”
“True, my dear sir; but Amelia has no idea of mysteries or art. I only meant that young girls, you know, will be ashamed on these occasions, and we must make allowances. So do not speak to her, I conjure you.”
“Well, madam, you are her mother, and must know best. I have only her interest at heart: but I won’t speak to her, since it will so distress her. But what shall be done about this lover? You are quite right about him, and I have not a word more to say.”
“But I declare I think you judge him too harshly. Though I am not inclined to be his friend, yet I must do him the justice to say, he has more good qualities than you allow, or rather than you have seen yet. He is passionately fond of Amelia. Oh, there you’re wrong, quite wrong; he is passionately in love, whatever he may pretend to the contrary.”
“Pretend! and why should the puppy pretend not to be in love?”
“Pride, pride and fashion. Young men are so governed by fashion, and so afraid of ridicule. There’s a set of fashionables now, with whom love is a bore, you know.”
“I know! no, indeed, I know no such thing,” said Mr. Palmer. “But this I know, that I hate pretences of all sorts; and if the man is in love, I should, for my part, like him the better for showing it.”
“So he will, when you know him a little better. You are quite a stranger, and he is bashful.”
“Bashful! Never saw so confident a man in any country.”
“But he is shy under all that.”