What should I see him for, Madam?—Is the man fond of hearing me declare my aversion to him?—Is he desirous of having me more and more incense my friends against myself?—O my cunning, my ambitious brother!
Ah, my dear! with a look of pity, as if she understood the meaning of my exclamation—But must that necessarily be the case?
It must, Madam, if they will take offence at me for declaring my steadfast detestation of Mr. Solmes, as a husband.
Mr. Solmes is to be pitied, said she. He adores you. He longs to see you once more. He loves you the better for your cruel usage of him yesterday. He is in raptures about you.
Ugly creature, thought I!—He in raptures!
What a cruel wretch must he be, said I, who can enjoy the distress to which he so largely contributes!—But I see, I see, Madam, that I am considered as an animal to be baited, to make sport for my brother and sister, and Mr. Solmes. They are all, all of them, wanton in their cruelty.—I, Madam, see the man! the man so incapable of pity!—Indeed I will not see him, if I can help it—indeed I will not.
What a construction does your lively wit put upon the admiration Mr. Solmes expresses of you!—Passionate as you were yesterday, and contemptuously as you treated him, he dotes upon you for the very severity by which he suffers. He is not so ungenerous a man as you think him: nor has he an unfeeling heart.—Let me prevail upon you, my dear, (as your father and mother expect it of you,) to see him once more, and hear what he has to say to you.
How can I consent to see him again, when yesterday's interview was interpreted by you, Madam, as well as by every other, as an encouragement to him? when I myself declared, that if I saw him a second time by my own consent, it might be so taken? and when I am determined never to encourage him?
You might spare your reflections upon me, Miss. I have no thanks either from one side or the other.
And away she flung.