It is the way with some men to give themselves out as hard-hearted, fearing to be convicted of the taint of the 'milk of human kindness,' and they do good with a perpetual sneer at kindness, as an effeminate quality. When pressed for explanation, they seek refuge in such expressions as, "O, sir, content you, herein I serve my turn." Aesha well knew Osman was one of this class.
"Osman," said she laughing, "would to Heaven, all were as selfish and far-sighted as you. Goodness could then very well be dispensed with."
After an attempt at shuffling, Osman said in a softer tone,
"That I am selfish, I will show by another instance."
Aesha fixed her eyes on Osman, like a cloud surcharged with lightning—Osman continued,
"I am living on Hope; how long shall I remain her borrower?"
Aesha looked grave; Osman now saw new beauties rising to the view. "Speak to papa about it, pray," said she. "You know he can deny you nothing."
Osman. "I have not left untried that quarter."
Aesha. "And what does he say?"
Osman. "He has pledged his word to the Begam that he will give you to the man of your own choice. But to this day, I have not known your mind."
Again her sweet countenance gleamed through a smile.
"Pray, when have men," said she, "been able to read the thoughts of women?"
Osman.—"What am I to understand by this?"
Aesha. "That I do love you." Osman's handsome face brightened with joy.
