“I have already found one,” returned Oldcorne: “a gentleman suitable to you in rank, religion, years,—for your husband should be older than yourself, Viviana.”
“I will not affect to misunderstand you, father,” she replied; “you mean Mr. Catesby.”
“You have guessed aright, dear daughter,” rejoined Oldcorne.
“I thought I had made myself sufficiently intelligible on this point before, father,” she returned.
“True,” replied Oldcorne; “but you are no longer, as I have just laboured to convince you, in the same position you were when the subject was formerly discussed.”
“To prevent further misunderstanding, father,” rejoined Viviana, “I now tell you, that in whatever position I may be placed, I will never, under any circumstances, wed Mr. Catesby.”
“What are your objections to him, daughter?” asked Oldcorne.
“They are numberless,” replied Viviana; “but it is useless to particularize them. I must pray you to change the conversation, or you will compel me to quit you.”
“Nay, daughter, if you thus obstinately shut your ears to reason, I must use very different language towards you. Armed with parental authority, I shall exact obedience to my commands.”
“I cannot obey you, father,” replied Viviana, bursting into tears,—"indeed, indeed I cannot. My heart, I have already told you, is another's.”