Full of palpitating respect, but no love to speak of; that
always comes in time to heroines who sacrifice themselves and spare
the cows."
"It sounds strangely familiar," remarked Mr. Beresford, who was with
us, as usual. "Didn't a fellow turn up in the next chapter, a young
nephew of the old husband, who fell in love with the bride,
unconsciously and against his will? Wasn't she obliged to take him
into the conservatory, at the end of a week, and say, 'G-go! I
beseech you! for b-both our sakes!'? Didn't the noble fellow wring
her hand silently, and leave her looking like a broken lily on the-"
"How can you be so cynical, Mr. Beresford? It isn't like you!"
exclaimed Salemina. "For my part, I don't think the girl is either
his bride or his fiancee. Probably the mother of the family is
dead, and the father is bringing his eldest daughter to look at the
house: that's my idea of it."
This theory being just as plausible as ours, we did not discuss it,
hoping that something would happen to decide the matter in one way
or another.
"She is not married, I am sure," went on Salemina, leaning over the
back of my chair.
