Mr. Temple declared that he had thought there was so little chance of his ever being in circumstances in which he could marry, especially a woman who had not some fortune of her own, that he had scarcely ventured to avow, even to himself, his attachment.
“I thought my love would wear itself out,” added he. “Indeed I did not know how serious a business it was, till this sudden proposal was made to me of leaving England: then I felt that I should drag, at every step, a lengthening chain. In plain prose, I cannot leave England without knowing my fate. But don’t let me make a fool of myself, Alfred. No man of sense will do more than hazard a refusal: that every man ought to do, or he sacrifices the dignity of the woman he loves to his own false pride. I know that in these days gentlemen-suitors are usually expert in sounding the relations of the lady they wish to address. To inquire whether the lady is engaged or not is, I think, prudent and honourable: but beyond this, I consider it to be treacherous and base to endeavour, by any indirect means, to engage relations to say what a lover should learn only from the lady herself. Therefore, my dear friend, all I ask is whether you have reason to believe that your sister Rosamond’s heart is pre-engaged; or if you think that there is such a certainty of my being rejected, as ought, in common prudence, to prevent my hazarding the mortification of a refusal?”
Alfred assured his friend, that, to the best of his belief, Rosamond’s heart was disengaged. “And,” continued he, “as a witness is or ought to be prepared to tell his cause of belief, I will give you mine. Some time since I was commissioned by a gentleman, who wished to address her, to make the previous inquiry, and the answer was, quite disengaged. Now as she did not accept of this gentleman, there is reason to conclude that he did not engage her affections—”
“Was he rich or poor, may I ask?” interrupted Mr. Temple.
“That is a leading question,” said Alfred.
“I do not want you to tell me who the gentleman was—I know that would not be a fair question, and I trust I should be as far from asking, as you from answering it. But there are so many rich as well as so many poor men in the world, that in answering to the inquiry rich or poor, what city or court man do you name? I want only to draw a general inference as to your sister’s taste for wealth.”
“Her taste is assuredly not exclusively for wealth; for her last admirer was a gentleman of very large fortune.”
“I am happy, at least, in that respect, in not resembling him,” said Mr. Temple. “Now for my other question—what chance for myself?”
“Of that, my good friend, you must judge for yourself. By your own rule all you have a right to hear is, that I, Rosamond’s brother, have no reason for believing that she has such a repugnance to you as would make a refusal certain. And that you may not too much admire my discretion, I must add, that if I had a mind to tell you more, I could not. All I know is, that Rosamond, as well as the rest of my family, in their letters spoke of you with general approbation, but I do not believe the idea of considering you as her lover ever entered into her head or theirs.”
“But now the sooner it enters the better,” cried Mr. Temple. “Will you—can you—Have not you business to do for Lord Oldborough at Clermont-park?”