alking
towards the house. I puzzled for a few minutes over that pathetic look
and blush, but I could make nothing of it, and it passed from my mind
till the next evening after dinner, when, after a little ceremonious
preamble, my father asked if there was "anything between" myself and
my eldest cousin. In explanation of this vague question, he told me
that Maria had been failing in health and spirits for some months;
that my aunt's watchful observation and experience had led her to the
conclusion that Maria was not in a consumption, but in love. As,
however, she kept her own counsel, Mrs. Ascott could only guess in the
matter. From her feverish interest in Dacrefield, her ill-concealed
excitement when the visit was proposed, the improvement in her health
since she came, and a multitude of other small facts which my aunt had
ferreted out and patched together with an ingenuity that amazed me,
Maria was supposed to care for me.

"We were a good deal together in town, sir," said I, "and Maria was
very jolly with me. But I am sure I gave her no reason to think I was
in love with her, and I don't believe she cares for me. It's one of my
aunt's mare's nests, depend upon it. The poor girl has got a horrid
cough, and, of course, she was pleased to get out of London smoke."

"If you did care for her," said my father; "and, above all, if you had
led her to think you did, the course is obvious, and I have no doubt
she would make an excellent wife. Polly is my favourite, and Maria is
a year or two older than you. But she is a nice, sensible, well-bred
woman. She is the eldest daughter, and will have--"

"My dear father," said I, "Maria and I are very friendly as cousins,
but she has not an idea of me in any other than a brotherly relation.
At least I think not," I added, for the look and blush that had
puzzled me came back to my mind.

"I only mention this because I wished to warn you against trifling
with your cousin's affections if you mean nothing," said my father.

"I should be sorry to trifle with any lady's affections, sir," was my
reply. We said no more. I sighed, thinking of what I fully believed
had blighted my existence. My father sighed, thinking, I know, of his
own vain wish to see me happily married. At last I could bear it no
longer, and calling Sweep, I went out into the garden. It was
moonlight, and Maria was languidly pacing the terrace. I joined her,
and we strolled away into the shrubbery.

I cannot say tha