were so obviously and perseveringly directed to me, that young and
inexperienced as I was, even _I_ could not be ignorant of their
significance. I felt more provoked by this odious persecution than I
can express, and discouraged him with so much vigour, that I did
not stop even at rudeness to convince him that his assiduities were
unwelcome; but all in vain.

This had gone on for nearly a twelvemonth, to my infinite annoyance,
when one day, as I was sitting at some needlework with my companion,
Emily, as was my habit, in the parlour, the door opened, and my cousin
Edward entered the room. There was something, I thought, odd in his
manner, a kind of struggle between shame and impudence, a kind of
flurry and ambiguity, which made him appear, if possible, more than
ordinarily disagreeable.

"Your servant, ladies," he said, seating himself at the same time;
"sorry to spoil your _tête-à-tête_; but never mind, I'll only take
Emily's place for a minute or two, and then we part for a while, fair
cousin. Emily, my father wants you in the corner turret; no shilly,
shally, he's in a hurry." She hesitated. "Be off--tramp, march, I
say," he exclaimed, in a tone which the poor girl dared not disobey.

She left the room, and Edward followed her to the door. He stood there
for a minute or two, as if reflecting what he should say, perhaps
satisfying himself that no one was within hearing in the hall. At
length he turned about, having closed the door, as if carelessly, with
his foot, and advancing slowly, in deep thought, he took his seat at
the side of the table opposite to mine. There was a brief interval of
silence, after which he said:--