“I shall certainly respect myself, Harry. He need not fear that I shall read him one of my uncle's lectures upon life and honesty.”
“I have promised not to be his enemy in the matter, and I shall keep my word.”
“So you may, Harry, with perfect safety. I am much obliged to him for his good opinion; but”—she paused.
“What do you stop at, Maria?”
“I was only about to add,” she replied, “that I wish it was mutual.”
“You wish it,” he exclaimed. “What do you mean by that, Maria?”
She laughed. “Don't you know it is only a form of speech? a polite way of saying that he does not rank high in my esteem?”
“Well, well,” he replied, “settle that matter between you; perhaps the devil is not so black as he's painted.”
“A very unhappy illustration,” said his sister, “whatever has put it into your head.'
“Faith, and I don't know what put it there. However, all I can say in the matter I have already said. I am not, nor shall I be, his enemy. I'll trouble you, as you're near it, to touch the bell till George gets the horse. I am going up to his father's, now. Shall I tell him that John Wallace is discarded; that he will be received with smiles, and that—”