"You are incorrigible, girl, and have not sense enough to have a proper feeling of family pride."
"Haven't I? Am I not proud of all the stories uncle David tells us of his courage, when he was mate of an Indiaman? and aunt Jenkison—don't you remember, sir, how she dined with us at Christmas, and had to walk in pattens through the snow, and tumbled in Cheapside?"
A laugh began to form itself round the eyes of the French magnate, which made his countenance uncommonly like what it used to be when it was that of an English merchant. Louise saw her success, and proceeded.
"And how you said, when the poor old lady was brought home in a chair, that it was the punch that did it?"
"He, he! and so it was. Didn't I caution her, all the time, that it was old Jamaica rum?" broke out the father; but checked himself, as if he were guilty of some indecorum.
"And don't you remember how we all attended the launch of uncle Peter's ship, the Hope's Return? Ah, they were happy days, father! weren't they?"
"No, madam; no—vulgar, miserable days: forget them as quick as you can. I tell you, when you resume your proper sphere, every eye will be turned to your beauty: nobles will be dying at your feet."
"I trust not, sir," hurriedly burst in Mr Hope. "I don't see what right any nobles will have to be dying at Louise's feet."
"Don't you, sir?" said Louise. "Indeed! I beg to tell you, that as many as choose shall die at my feet. I'll trouble you, Mr Hope, not to interfere with the taste of any nobleman who has a fancy to so queer a place for his death-bed." But while she said this, she tapped him so playfully with her little white hand, and looked at him so kindly with her beautiful blue eyes, that the young gentleman seemed greatly reassured; and in a few minutes, as if tired of the conversation, betook himself to the other room.