“God bless you, sir, to be sure it has—are they not distantly related?”
“That, indeed, is a very usual proceeding among families,” observed Woodward; “the boy and girl are thrown together, and desired to look upon each other as destined to become husband and wife; they accordingly do so, fall in love, are married, and soon find themselves—miserable; in fact, these matches seldom turn out well.”
“But there is no risk of that here,” replied Alice.
“I sincerely hope not, Miss Goodwin. In your case, unless the husband was a fool, or a madman, or a villain, there must be happiness. Of course you will be happy with him; need I say,” and here he sighed, “that he at least ought to be so with you?”
“Upon my word, Mr. Woodward,” replied Alice, smiling, “you are a much cleverer man than I presume your own modesty ever permitted you to suspect.”
“I don't understand you,” he replied, with a look of embarrassment.
“Why,” she proceeded, “here have you, in a few minutes, made up a match between two persons who never were intended to be married at all; you have got the sanction of two families to a union which neither of them even for a moment contemplated. Dear me, sir, may not a lady and gentleman become acquainted without necessarily falling in love?”
“Ah, but, in your case, my dear Miss Goodwin, it would be difficult—impossible I should say—to remain indifferent, if the gentleman had either taste or sentiment; however, I assure you I am sincerely glad to find that I have been mistaken.”
“God bless me, Mr. Woodward,” said Mrs. Goodwin, “did you think they were sweethearts?”
“Upon my honor, madam, I did—and I was very sorry for it.”