Sandford now laid his book down upon the table; but still holding his fingers in the pages he was reading, said, “And why are you disappointed of Miss Woodley’s company? When people expect what they have no right to hope, ’tis impertinent assurance to complain they are disappointed.”
“I had a right to hope she would come,” answered Rushbrook, “for she promised she would.”
“But what right had you to ask her?”
“The right every one has, to make his time pass as agreeably as he can.”
“But not at the expence of another.”
“I believe, Mr. Sandford, it would be a heavy expence to you, to see me happy; I believe it would cost you even your own happiness.”
“That is a price I have not now to give:” replied Sandford, and began reading again.
“What, you have already paid it away? No wonder that at your time of life it should be gone. But what do you think of my having already squandered mine?”
“I don’t think about you;” returned Sandford, without taking his eyes from the book.
“Can you look me in the face and say that, Mr. Sandford? No, you cannot—for you know you do think of me, and you know you hate me.”—Here he drank two glasses of wine one after another; “And I can tell you why you hate me,” continued he: “It is from a cause for which I often hate myself.”