"
Margaret affected a derisive laugh, as at her brother's pretensions to
wisdom.
"Oh, I know all the stages," he continued, watching her with a
malicious calmness of self-confidence. "When gentry of his sort are
first struck with a lady, but not very deep, they speak out their
admiration bold and gallant; when they find they're hit seriously, but
haven't made sure of her, they speak of her with make-believe
carelessness or mere respect: they don't like to show how far gone
they are. But when she's come to an understanding with 'em, and put
'em under obligations and responsibilities--it's only then they touch
her name so tender and considerate, as if it was so fragile. But that
stage doesn't last for ever, my young lady--bear that in mind!"
"You insolent wretch!" said Margaret, ready to cry with rage and
confusion.
"This is outrageous," ventured Mrs. Faringfield, daring to look her
indignation at Ned. "William, how can you tolerate such things said
about your daughter?"
But Mr. Faringfield had been studying his daughter's countenance all
the while. Alas for Margaret, she had never given pains to the art of
dissimulation, or taken the trouble to learn hypocrisy, or even
studied self-control: a negligence common to beauties, who rely upon
their charms to carry them through all emergencies without resort to
shifts. She was equal to a necessary lie that had not to be maintained
with labour, or to a pretence requiring little effort and encountering
no suspicion, but to the concealment of her feelings when she was
openly put to the question, her powers were inadequate.
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