Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of men's passions. “Oh, Mr. Bassett!” said she--and there was something pure and holy in the look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuous speaker--“pray do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. And remember life and death are not in our hands. Besides--”
“Might he not--marry--and have children?” This with more hesitation and a deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary.
“Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends. Charles is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton--fast at Oxford--fast in London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three years younger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man. Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they are mine--”
“Sir Charles Bassett!” trumpeted a servant at the door; and then waited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught blushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another.
“Wait a moment,” said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring what Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she said, hurriedly: “You should not blame him for the faults of others. There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am little entitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends. He is very good, I assure you, and very nice. Let me reconcile you two. _May_ I?”
This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed--if I may be permitted--in a way to dissolve a bear.
But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is placable; it was a man with a hobby grievance; so he replied in character:
“That is impossible so long as he keeps me out of my own.” He had the grace, however, to add, half sullenly, “Excuse me; I feel I have been too vehement.”
Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly:
“Oh, never mind _that;_ it was very natural.--I am at home, then,” said she to the servant.
Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and said, with no little agitation, “I was not aware he visits you. One word--don't let his ill-gotten acres make you quite forget the disinherited one.” And so he left her, with an imploring look.