“No, I would not engross them, I would only ask to share your anxieties, and if I could, to lighten your sorrows and cares. I only wish to have a right to joy and grieve with you. Could you not love me, would you not be my wife, if all were well here!”
“All is not well,” replied she, blushing crimson, and turning away, “why ask?”
But her manner was so little repulsive, that Lord Dunsmore persevered, and before long, won from her an admission that she would rather he should continue to frequent their society on the understanding that she would try and like him, than that he should go away altogether from the neighborhood.
“But I am so young,” said she, “I can not promise—ask Maurice.”
“I will!” said her suitor.
“I have still another guardian,” continued Gwyneth, with a sigh.
“You have; shall I refer to him?”
She assented softly, and he went immediately to Captain Hepburn. Hilary, of course, was beside him; Maurice, too, was there.
“Dear Mrs. Hepburn,” said Lord Dunsmore, “do you remember the wish I once ventured to express to you about your sister?”
“Gwyneth! oh, yes!” said Hilary, eagerly.