duty to try to get on, and that it won’t do for you to be romantic; but in future you must not misunderstand me, if I seem friendly. You misunderstood me this morning, did you not?”
“What made you think so?”
“Your look—your manner.”
“But look at me now—”
“Oh! you are different now: at present, I dare speak to you.”
“Yet I am the same, except that I have left the tradesman behind me in the Hollow: your kinsman alone stands before you.”
“My cousin, Robert; not Mr. Moore.”
“Not a bit of Mr. Moore. Caroline—”
Here the company was heard rising in the other room; the door was opened; the pony-carriage was ordered; shawls and bonnets were demanded; Mr. Helstone called for his niece.
“I must go, Robert.”
“Yes, you must go, or they will come in, and find us here; and I, rather than meet all that host in the passage, will take my departure through the window: luckily, it opens like a door. One minute only—put down the candle an instant—good-night! I kiss you because we are cousins; and, being cousins, one—two—three kisses are allowable. Caroline, good-night!”
