"I am nothing of a linguist. I am no exception to the general rule of Englishmen, that their own tongue is enough for them."
"Please to tell me plainly. My memory seems confused. But I think you have shown some knowledge of it. And I think, I have heard my father say that you could read Don Quixote very fairly from his copy."
"No; but just a little, very badly, and with the help of a dictionary, and my own recollection of Latin."
"Then you know what my mother said just now? I hope not. Oh I should grieve so!"
"Well, Miss Waldron, if you insist upon the truth, I cannot deny that I understood her."
Nicie's eyes flashed as he spoke: then she rose, and went to him hastily; for he was going, and had taken up his hat to leave her, inasmuch as she now could take care of herself.
"Put down your hat," she said in her own pretty style of issuing orders, in the days of yore; "now give me both your hands, as you held mine just now, and look at me honestly, and without reserve."
"All that I am doing," answered Jemmy Fox, happy to have her so, and throwing the dawn of a smile into the depth of her dear eyes. "Miss Waldron, I am doing it."
"Then go on like this—'Miss Waldron,' or you may even for once say, 'Nicie—I have never been base enough, for a moment, to imagine that you had any doubt of me.' Say all that from the bottom of your heart."