"
"But we can't be children for ever," I continued.
"Oh, no, Regie dear."
"Please take what I am going to say kindly, cousin, whatever you may
think of it."
"Oh, yes, Regie dear."
"I hope I may truthfully say that your happiness is, as it ought to
be, my chief aim in the matter."
Maria's response was inaudible.
"It's no good beating about the bush," said I, desperately clothing my
sentiments in slang, after the manner of my age; "the fellow who gets
you for a wife, Maria, must be uncommonly fortunate, and I hope that
with a good husband, who made your wishes his first consideration, you
would not be unhappy in married life yourself."
Lower and lower went her head, but still she was silent.
"You say nothing," I went on. "Probably I am altogether wrong, and you
are too kind-hearted to tell me I am an impertinent puppy. It is
Dacrefield--the place only--that you honour with your regard. You have
no affection for--"
Maria did not let me finish this sentence. She put up her hands to
stop me, and seemed as if she wished to speak; but after one pitiful
glance she buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly. I am sure I
have read somewhere that when a woman weeps she is won.
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