“You ought,” replied Fawkes. “And I know nothing of the female heart, if it can be insensible to youth, devotion, and manly appearance like that of Humphrey Chetham.”
“You do know nothing of it,” rejoined Chetham, bitterly. “Women's fancies are unaccountable.”
“Such is the received opinion,” replied Fawkes; “but as I am ignorant of the sex, I can only judge from report. You are the person I should imagine she would love—nay, to be frank, whom I thought she did love.”
“No more,” said Humphrey Chetham. “It is painful both to Viviana and to me.”
“This is not a time for delicacy,” rejoined Guy Fawkes. “Viviana has given me the privilege of a father with her. And where her happiness is so much concerned as in the present case, I should imperfectly discharge my duty if I did not speak out. It would sincerely rejoice me, and I am sure contribute materially to her own happiness, if she would unite herself to you.”
“I cannot—I cannot,” she rejoined. “I will never marry.”
“You hear what she says,” remarked Chetham. “Do not urge the matter further.”
“I admire maiden delicacy and reserve,” replied Fawkes; “but when a man has acted as you have done, he deserves to be treated with frankness. I am sure Viviana loves you. Let her tell you so.”
“You are mistaken,” replied Chetham; “and it is time you should be undeceived. She loves another.”
“Is this so?” cried Fawkes, in astonishment.