She had dreaded lest
the Squire--in proposing to marry her--should make love to her. But
the coolness of the bargain actually suggested to her, the apparent
absence from it of any touch of sentiment, took her completely
aback. She was asked, in fact, to become his slave--his bailiff and
secretary for life--and the price was offered.
Her face spoke for her, before she could express her feeling in
words. The Squire, watching her, hurriedly resumed.
'I put it like an idiot! What I meant was this. If I could induce
you to marry me--and put up with me--I believe both our lives might
be much more interesting and agreeable!'
The intensity of the demand expressed in his pale hazel eyes and
frowning brow struck full upon her.
But Elizabeth slowly shook her head.
'I am very grateful to you, Mr. Mannering, but'--a rather ironical
smile showed itself--'I think you hardly understand me. We should
never get on.'
'Why?'
'Because our temperaments--our characters--are so different.'
'You can't forgive me about the war?'
'Well, that hurts me,' she said, after a moment, 'but I leave that
to Mr.
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