“When you tell me who this lost lover is, I shall be the better able to answer you.”
“Who he is! Cornet Stubbs, of course.”
“Oh! he. And how have you come to lose him? Has he made away with himself? He hasn’t drowned himself in the mere, I hope?”
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t like to swear he hasn’t. When I last looked upon his ugly face, I fancied there was drowning in it. Ha! ha! ha!”
“Well, my light-hearted coz; your loss seems to sit easily upon you. Pray explain yourself.”
“Marion!” said Lora, catching hold of her cousin’s arm; and speaking in a tone of greater solemnity. “Would you believe it—that impertinent has again proposed to me?”
“What! a second declaration! That looks more like finding a lover, than losing one?”
“Ay, a second declaration; and this time far more determined than before. Why, he would take no denial!”
“And what answer did you make him?”
“Well, the first time, as I told you, I gave him a flat refusal. This time it wasn’t so very flat. It was both pointed and indignant. I talked to him sharp enough: no mincing of words I assure you. And yet, for all that, the pig persisted in his proposal, as if he had the power to force me to say, yes! I couldn’t get rid of him, until I threatened him with a box on the ear. Ay, and I’d have given it him, if some of the company hadn’t come up at the time, and relieved me of his importunities. I shouldn’t have cared if I had ever given him cause—the impudent pleb! I wonder that keeping the company of his more accomplished captain don’t have the effect of refining him a little—the impertinent upstart!”