“My dear, people never think their own romance absurd. Well! granted that you are not romantic, since that is a point which I find I must grant before we can go on,—now, tell me, was Mr. Barclay very sorry when you refused him?” said Rosamond.
“I dare not tell you that there is yet no danger of his breaking his heart,” said Caroline.
“So I thought,” cried Rosamond, with a look of ineffable contempt. “I thought he was not a man to break his heart for love. With all his sense, I dare say he will go back to his Lady Angelica Headingham. I should not be surprised if he went after her to Weymouth to-morrow.”
“I should,” said Caroline; “especially as he has just ordered his carriage to take him to his aunt, Lady B——, in Leicestershire.”
“Oh! poor man!” said Rosamond, “now I do pity him.”
“Because he is going to his aunt?”
“No; Caroline—you are very cruel—because I am sure he is very much touched and disappointed by your refusal. He cannot bear to see you again. Poor! poor Mr. Barclay! I have been shamefully ill-natured. I hope I did not prejudice your mind against him—I’ll go directly and take leave of him—poor Mr. Barclay!”
Rosamond, however, returned a few minutes afterwards, to complain that Mr. Barclay had not made efforts enough to persuade Caroline to listen to him.
“If he had been warmly in love, he would not so easily have given up hope.
‘None, without hope, e’er loved the brightest fair;
But love can hope, where Reason should despair.’”