ore.

'_How?_' he continued; 'how has Dudley _insulted_ you, my dear child? Come,
you're excited; sit down; take time, and tell me all about it. I did not
know that Dudley was here.'

'I--he--it _is_ an insult. He knew very well--he _must_ know I dislike him;
and he presumed to make a proposal of marriage to me.'

'O--o--oh!' exclaimed my uncle, with a prolonged intonation which plainly
said, Is that the mighty matter?

He looked at me as he leaned back with the same steady curiosity, this time
smiling, which somehow frightened me, and his countenance looked to me
wicked, like the face of a witch, with a guilt I could not understand.

'And that is the amount of your complaint. He made you a formal proposal of
marriage!'

'Yes; he proposed for me.'

As I cooled, I began to feel just a very little disconcerted, and a
suspicion was troubling me that possibly an indifferent person might think
that, having no more to complain of, my language was perhaps a little
exaggerated, and my demeanour a little too tempestuous.

My uncle, I dare say, saw some symptoms of this misgiving, for, smiling
still, he said--

'My dear Maud, however just, you appear to me a little cruel; you don't
seem to remember how much you are yourself to blame; you have one faithful
friend at least, whom I advise your consulting--I mean your looking-glass.
The foolish fellow is young, quite ignorant in the world's ways. He is in
love--desperately enamoured.

Aimer c'est craindre, et craindre c'est souffrir.

And suffering prompts to desperate remedies. We must not be too hard on a
rough but romantic young fool, who talks according to his folly and his
pain.'

CHAPTER XLIX

_AN APPARITION_

'But, after all,' he suddenly resumed, as if a new thought had struck him,
'is it quite such folly, after all? It really strikes me, dear Maud, that
the subject may be worth a second thought. No, no, you won't refuse to hear
me,' he said, observing me on the point of protesting. 'I am, of course,
assuming that you are fancy free. I am assuming, too, that you don't care
twopence about Dudley, and even that you fancy you dislike him. You know in
that pleasant play, poor Sheridan--delightful fellow!--all our fine spirits
are dead--he makes Mrs. Malaprop say there is nothing like beginning with a
little aversion. Now, though in matrimony, of course, that is only a joke,
yet in love, believe me, it is no such thing. His own marriage with Miss
Ogle,