"Oh, indeed! have you seen or heard anything of her lately?" Mrs. de Burgh then inquired with assumed interest.
"Yes, I saw her at —— after the trial, at which, you know, I had to appear. She was there with her brother, who was retained for the prisoner."
"Indeed, how did she look? is she much altered, poor girl?"
"I don't know," he answered gloomily; "she looked pale; but then, our interview was of no very pleasing nature, and.... But I have heard from her since then," he added, in the same tone, without concluding the former sentence; "she writes to break off the engagement."
"Well, Eugene, you can scarcely wonder; you must own, you have tried her patience to the very uttermost," his cousin answered, smiling reproachfully; "but it is just the way with you men," she continued, as she scanned more closely the working of Eugene's countenance, "you would keep us waiting till doomsday to serve your own convenience, without one scruple of concern; but if we begin to show any disposition to be off, then you are, forsooth, the injured and aggrieved; well, however, is it not as well? What profit or pleasure can such an engagement be to you, who year after year seem no nearer the end than at the beginning? and as for your father, I believe he's 'the never-dying one.'"
"But, Olivia, matters have lately taken a different aspect," her cousin muttered, gloomily, "my father is urging me to marry, and would do anything to further it. I would marry her to-morrow, if it could only be managed."
"Well, why not tell her so. I suppose it was only the apparent hopelessness of the case which induced her to give you up—tell her at once."
"I did tell her when I saw her last—more, I pressed an immediate marriage urgently upon her; but," with a bitter laugh, "the idea has become so repugnant to her feelings, that she absolutely fainted with horror and aversion."
"Nonsense, Eugene, from joy most likely."
"Joy, indeed—and that letter she wrote after. Oh, no! she has taken it into her head that I am a villain, and—"