The young lady coloured rather fiercely.

'I am not a girl of seventeen now, Stanley; and--and, besides, I _hate_
him.'

'What d--d nonsense! I really beg your pardon, Radie, but it _is_
precious stuff. You are quite unreasonable; you've no cause to hate him;
he dropped you because you dropped him. It was only prudent; he had not a
guinea. But now it is different, and he _must_ marry you.'

The young lady stared with a haughty amazement upon her brother.

'I've made up my mind to speak to him; and if he won't I promise you he
shall leave the country,' said the young man gently, just lifting his
yellow eyes for a second with another unpleasant glare.

'I almost think you're mad, Stanley; and if you do anything so insane,
sure I am you'll rue it while you live; and wherever he is I'll find him
out, and acquit myself, with the scorn I owe him, of any share in a plot
so unspeakably mean and absurd.'

'Brava, brava! you're a heroine, Radie; and why the devil,' he continued,
in a changed tone, 'do you apply those insolent terms to what I purpose
doing?'

'I wish I could find words strong enough to express my horror of your
plot--a plot every way disgusting. You plainly know something to Mark
Wylder's discredit; and you mean, Stanley, to coerce him by fear into a
marriage with your penniless sister, who _hates_ him. Sir, do you pretend
to be a gentleman?'