“Thank you,” said Miss Bell, laughing.
“Your cousin is handsome, and thinks so. He is uneasy de sa personne. He has not seen the world yet. Has he genius? Has he suffered? A lady, a little woman in a rumpled satin and velvet shoes—a Miss Pybus—came here, and said he has suffered. I, too, have suffered,—and you, Laura, has your heart ever been touched?”
Laura said “No!” but perhaps blushed a little at the idea or the question, so that the other said,—
“Ah Laura! I see it all. It is the beau cousin. Tell me everything. I already love you as a sister.”
“You are very kind,” said Miss Bell, smiling, “and—and it must be owned that it is a very sudden attachment.”
“All attachments are so. It is electricity—spontaneity. It is instantaneous. I knew I should love you from the moment I saw you. Do you not feel it yourself?”
“Not yet,” said Laura; “but—I daresay I shall if I try.”
“Call me by my name, then.”
“But I don’t know it,” Laura cried out.
“My name is Blanche—isn’t it a pretty name? Call me by it.”