"I have not been, hitherto," answered le Bourdon, so frankly as at
once to quiet his companion's sensitiveness, "though I will not
answer for the future. Now that I have so many with me, we may make
some of them necessary. Mind--I say SOME, not all of my present
guests. If I could have my pick, pretty Margery, the present company
would give me ALL I can desire, and more too. I should not think of
going to Detroit for that companion, since she is to be found so
much nearer."
Margery blushed, and looked down--then she raised her eyes, smiled,
and seemed grateful as well as pleased. By this time she had become
accustomed to such remarks, and she had no difficulty in discovering
her lover's wishes, though he had never been more explicit. The
reflections natural to her situation threw a shade of gentle
seriousness over her countenance, rendering her more charming than
ever, and causing the youth to plunge deeper and deeper into the
meshes that female influence had cast around him, In all this,
however, one of the parties was governed by a manly sincerity, and
the other by girlish artlessness. Diffidence, one of the most
certain attendants of a pure passion, alone kept le Bourdon from
asking Margery to become his wife; while Margery herself sometimes
doubted whether it were possible that any reputable man could wish
to connect himself and his fortunes with a family that had sunk as
low as persons could well sink, in this country, and not lose their
characters altogether.
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