She's the only one that knows what that answer
should be, and, when other folks interfere and try to influence, it
generally means trouble. I'm kind of disappointed; I'll own up to that.
I think Jim is a fine, honest, able young man, and he'd make a good
husband, I'm sure. And, so far as his business, or profession, or
whatever you call it, goes, he's doin' pretty well and sartin to do
better. Of course, 'twa'n't that that kept you from--"
"Uncle Elisha! Am _I_ so rich that I should--"
"There! there, my girl! I know 'twa'n't that, of course. I was only
thinkin' out loud, that's all--tryin' to find reasons. You didn't care
for him enough, I suppose. Caroline, you don't care for anybody else, do
you? You don't still care for that other feller, that--"
"Uncle!" she sprang up, hurt and indignant. "How can you?" she cried.
"How could you ask that? What must you think of me?"
"Please, Caroline," he protested; "please don't. I beg your pardon. I
was a fool! I knew better. Don't go. Tell me the real reason. Sit down
again and let's talk this out. Do sit down! that's it. Now tell me; was
it that you couldn't care for Jim enough?"
She hesitated.
"Was it?" he repeated.
"I--I like Mr. Pearson very much. I respect and admire him."
"But you don't love him.
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