"
"If you don't, and a rich man asks her to share his all, I'm sure she
will. And so should I. Words are only words."
"You torture me. I'd rather die than lose her."
"Then live and win her. I've told you the way."
"I will scrape an income together, and ask her."
"Upon your honor?"
"Upon my soul."
"Then, in my opinion, you will have her in spite of Lord Uxmoor."
Hot from this, Edward Severne sat down and wrote a moving letter to a
certain cousin of his in Huntingdonshire.
"MY DEAR COUSIN--I have often heard you say you were under obligations to
my father, and had a regard for me. Indeed, you have shown the latter by
letting the interest on my mortgage run out many years and not
foreclosing. Having no other friend, I now write to you, and throw myself
on your pity. I have formed a deep attachment to a young lady of infinite
beauty and virtue. She is above me in everything, especially in fortune.
Yet she deigns to love me. I can't ask her hand as a pauper; and by my
own folly, now deeply repented, I am little more. Now, all depends on
you--my happiness, my respectability. Sooner or later, I shall be able to
repay you all.
Pages:
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391