"If you doubt my word, you don't know me at all—tell me, is there one of all those men in that bright assembly, for whom you would put on those mystic blossoms?"
"None, upon my word," cried she, again; "none for whom I would consent to deck myself—none who could tempt me to such a sacrifice of life and liberty."
"Is that possible?" exclaimed he, in an incredulous tone.
"True, indeed; but why should you ask; you care not for me—you take no interest in me—you profess much indeed—but you are a man of professions."
"Cruel assertion—you cannot believe it possible. I assure you I have the most feeling heart in the world."
"I am incredulous."
"You are unkind."
"What motive have I to be otherwise to you."
"My deep and earnest devotion to you, fair Margaret."
"Now you are jesting, Mr. Musgrove."