much of her about London? And then how far would London suit Patience,
or would Patience suit London? There would be much for him to do in
teaching her, and it would be well for him to set about the lesson
without loss of time. So far he got that night, but when the morning
came he went a step further, and began mentally to criticise her manner
to himself. It had been very sweet, that warm, that full, that ready
declaration of love. Yes; it had been very sweet; but--but--; when,
after her little jokes, she did confess her love, had she not been a
little too free for feminine excellence? A man likes to be told that
he is loved, but he hardly wishes that the girl he is to marry should
fling herself at his head!

Ah me! yes; it was thus he argued to himself as on that morning he went
through the arrangements of his toilet. "Then he was a brute," you
say, my pretty reader. I have never said that he was not a brute. But
this I remark, that many such brutes are to be met with in the beaten
paths of the world's highway. When Patience Woolsworthy had answered
him coldly, bidding him go back to London and think over his love;
while it seemed from her manner that at any rate as yet she did not
care for him; while he was absent from her, and, therefore, longing for
her, the possession of her charms, her talent and bright honesty of
purpose had seemed to him a thing most desirable. Now they were his
own. They had, in fact, been his own from the first. The heart of
this country-bred girl had fallen at the first word from his mouth.
Had she not so confessed to him? She was very nice--very nice indeed.
He loved her dearly. But had he not sold himself too cheaply?

I by no means say that he was not a brute. But whether brute or no, he
was an honest man, and had no remotest dream, either then, on that
morning, or during the following days on which such thoughts pressed