"Never, sir?" said the milliner, whilst Miss Barton modestly cast down
her eyes. "Never's a bold word, sir. I've a notion you'll live to break
that rash resolution."

Miss Barton sighed, and involuntarily looked at the glass.

"Why, where's the use," pursued Wright, "of being laughed at? Where's
the sense of being scoffed at, as a man might be, that would go for to
pay a compliment, not well knowing how, to a lady that is used to have
court made to her by the first gentlemen in all York?"

"Those that think they don't know how to pay a compliment often pay the
best to my fancy," said the milliner. "What says Miss Barton?"

Miss Barton sighed and blushed, or looked as if she meant to blush; and
then, raising her well-practised eyes, exclaimed, with theatrical tones
and gestures:

"Ye sacred pow'rs, whose gracious providence
Is watchful for our good, guard me from men,
From their deceitful tongues, their vows and flatteries;
Still let me pass neglected by their eyes:
Let my bloom wither and my form decay,
That none may think it worth their while to ruin me,
And fatal love may never be my bane."

Scarcely had she concluded her speech, when Pierce Marvel came
breathless into the shop. Wright was standing so as to be completely
hidden by the door: and Marvel, not seeing his friend, addressed