"I do believe," she cried with animation, "that you are rather sorry he turned out so nobly. I do believe you would rather he showed no interest in that man on the tow-path."
"Candidly, Hetty, I would."
"It is all jealousy on your part, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Are you?"
"No--o--o," he said slowly, "I can't say I am much ashamed of myself on that account."
"Then," she said, "it is worse not to repent than to sin, and your condition is something dreadful. Now, my impression is that Mr. Crawford never thought of money at all when he married his wife. I believe he married her for pure love, and the fact of her being an invalid was a reason for his loving her all the more. To me he is a Bayard," cried this enthusiastic young person with flushing cheek, and eyes in which the gold glinted more than ever.
"He's too stout, my dear," said the brother placidly from his couch.
"What!" cried she indignantly. "Too stout to marry for love! You are outrageous!"
"No; not to marry for love, but to be a Bayard. You know as well as I do our lodger would not cut a good figure on horseback," said the brother with calm decision.
"You are intolerable, Alfred, and I will not speak to you again on the subject. Nothing could be in worse taste than what you have been saying," said the girl, gathering herself daintily together and looking away from him.
"Besides, you do an injustice to our lodger."