The doctor acknowledged the compliment by a grave bow, while Gipsy continued:
"My guardian has informed me that, unless I consent to this union, he will lose Mount Sunset, be reduced to poverty, and, consequently, die, he says. You, it seems, will prevent this, if I marry you. Now, Dr. Wiseman, knowing this marriage is not agreeable to me, I feel that you will withdraw your claim to my hand, and still prevent Guardy from being reduced to poverty!"
"Miss Gower, I regret to say I cannot do so. Unless you become my wife, I shall be obliged to let the law take its course; and all that Squire Erliston has told you will prove true."
"Dr. Wiseman, you will not be so cruel? I beg—I implore you to prevent this catastrophe!"
"I will, with pleasure, Miss Gower, if you will be my wife."
"That I can never be, Dr. Wiseman! I would not, to save my head from the block, consent to such a thing! What in the name of heaven can make a man of your age wish to marry a silly little thing like me?"
"Love, my pretty mountain sprite," replied the doctor, with a grim smile—"love! Years do not freeze the blood, nor still the heart of man!"
"Then, sir, if you love me, renounce all claim upon my hand, and save my guardian from impending ruin!"
"That I can never do!"
"Be it so, then, Dr. Wiseman. To you I will plead no more. Let us be turned out; I would die a death of lingering starvation sooner than wed with a cold-blooded monster like you!" exclaimed Gipsy, her old fiery spirit flashing from her eyes and radiating her face.