"I may endeavour so to do."
"Consider that Flora may be wholly dependent upon such kindness as you may be able to bestow upon her."
"Charles clings to her."
"Humph!"
"You do not doubt him?"
"My dear friend, Henry Bannerworth, although I am not an old man, yet I am so much older than you that I have seen a great deal of the world, and am, perhaps, far better able to come to accurate judgments with regard to individuals."
"No doubt—no doubt; but yet—"
"Nay, hear me out. Such judgments, founded upon experience, when uttered have all the character of prophecy about them. I, therefore, now prophecy to you that Charles Holland will yet be so stung with horror at the circumstance of a vampyre visiting Flora, that he will never make her his wife."
"Marchdale, I differ from you most completely," said Henry. "I know that Charles Holland is the very soul of honour."
"I cannot argue the matter with you. It has not become a thing of fact. I have only sincerely to hope that I am wrong."