Godfrey spoke with vehemence. Anthony remained silent, lost in profound thought. Godfrey went up to him and grasped him firmly by the hand. "Prove your love and gratitude to my father, Anthony, by an act of friendship to his son."
"God knows that I am painfully alive to the many obligations I owe to him, Godfrey; but you require of me a sacrifice I am unable to grant."
"Have you made an offer to Miss Whitmore? and has she accepted you?"
"Neither the one nor the other. Have you?"
"I spoke to her on the subject yesterday."
"Well," said Anthony, turning very pale. "Did she reject your suit?"
"She did not. She talked of her youth, and made some excuse to go to her father. But she showed no indications of displeasure. From her manner, I had all to hope, and little to fear. Few women, especially a young girl of seventeen, can be won without a little wooing. I have no doubt of ultimately winning her regard."
"Can you really be in earnest?"
"Do you doubt my word? Do you think the miser's heir more likely to win the affections of the romantic child of genius than the last scion of a ruined man?"
"How have I suffered myself to be cheated and betrayed by my own vanity!" said Anthony, thoughtfully. "Alas, for poor human nature, if this statement be true!"