"Oh, Beatrice! I thought you had a more noble heart than to trifle with the affections of such a man, particularly now there is a chance of recovering your property; you might be so happy, and make him so too." "And do, you think, if I do recover it, I should throw myself away on a poor curate, and that I should like to lead such a quiet hum–drum life. No, my dear girl, I was never made to appreciate such goodness or imitate it either." "Then, of course, you will alter your conduct, ere you go too far, and not render him wretched, perhaps for life." "Of course, I shall do no such thing, his attentions are too pleasing; it does not appear he will be here long, so I must make the most of the time." "Oh, Beatrice, think what havoc you may make in the happiness of a worthy man; look at his character; see his exemplary conduct; and could you, for the paltry gratification of your vanity, condemn him to the pangs of unrequited love. He has now, I fear, the ills of poverty to struggle against; did you notice his emotion when speaking of his mother and sisters? perhaps they are dependant on him,—you must not, shall not trifle with him thus." "And why not, dearest Ethelind; I shall really begin to suspect you like him yourself; oh, that tell tale blush, how it becomes you." "I think," said Ethelind, "any one would colour at such an accusation." "Well then, to be honest, I have no heart to give." "No heart to give! surely you are not engaged, and act thus?" "I am, indeed." "Cruel, heartless Beatrice," said Ethelind, "you cannot mean what you say." "I do most solemnly affirm it; but I will tell you all bye and bye: now I cannot. I am smarting too much under you severe philippic, you shall indeed know all,—but," said the thoughtless girl, "let us go home, as your mother will be waiting tea, and Mr. Barclay with her." "How can you face one you have so injured," said Ethelind, "I could not." "When you see a little more of the world, you will call these little flirtations very venial errors."
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