“You mean that we should be thankful, not self-complacent, for being poor: grateful, and also fearful, if we are rich,” said he.
“Yes, and do not fancy, from what I said, that riches have spoiled Mr. Huyton. Papa thinks very well of him, and I have no doubt his wealth has hitherto proved a blessing to many.”
The free and disengaged air with which she spoke would have carried the conviction of her calm feelings regarding the owner of “the Ferns” to any one but a lover, who felt his worldly circumstances formed a painful contrast to the individual in question.
After a little pause, Captain Hepburn began again.
“You have afforded me a striking example of your own theory, Miss Duncan, by showing that it does not require more than a wish to do right—to be able to confer favors. Your reproof for my discontented allusion to my worldly circumstances is an obligation, the value of which I hope I am not too dull to appreciate.”
“A reproof!” said Hilary, with a look of alarm and crimson cheeks; “indeed I am not so presumptuous; I did not mean it.”
“Then was the presumption mine, in supposing myself a sufficient object of interest to you to incur it,” replied he, smiling. “I would rather be judged worthy of reproof than of contempt.”
“I see you are laughing at me,” replied Hilary, smiling also; “and it was stupid of me to believe you serious when you talked in that way; but you looked so grave, I thought you really meant it.”
Whether Captain Hepburn might not have succeeded in convincing her that he did mean a great deal, and that his looks as well as his words could be depended on, can not be known, as just then Mr. Duncan and Maurice came in sight, and their conversation concluded as the others joined them.