“But for your own sake, do not,” returned Sandford, drily.
“You may laugh at these sentiments as romantic, Mr. Sandford, but if they are, to me they are nevertheless natural.”
“But of what service are they to be either to her, or to yourself?”
“To me they are painful, and to her would be but impertinent, were she to know them.”
“I shan’t inform her of them, so do not trouble yourself to caution me against it.”
“I was not going—you know I was not—but I was going to say, that from no one so well as from you, could she be told my sentiments, without the danger of receiving offence.”
“And what impression do you wish to give her, from her becoming acquainted with them?”
“The impression, that she has one sincere friend: that upon every occurrence in life, there is a heart so devoted to all she feels, that she never can suffer without the sympathy of another: or can ever command him, and all his fortunes to unite for her welfare, without his ready, his immediate compliance.”
“And do you imagine, that any of your professions, or any of her necessities, would ever prevail upon her to put you to the trial?”
“Perhaps not.”