forgotten that. Perhaps you can assist me to remember it. Is there not some one that lives near—or frequently visits the neighbourhood, that has long been attached to her? a Mr.— oh dear!—Mr.—"
"Hargrave?" suggested I, with a bitter smile.
"You're right!" cried she, "that was the very name."
"Impossible, Miss Eliza!!" I exclaimed in a tone that made her start.
"Well, you know, that's what they told me," said she, composedly staring me in the face. And then she broke out into a long shrill laugh that put me to my wits' end with fury.
"Really, you must excuse me," cried she: "I know it's very rude, but ha, ha, ha!—did you think to marry her yourself? Dear, dear, what a pity! ha, ha, ha!—Gracious, Mr. Markham! are you going to faint? O mercy! shall I call this man? Here, Jacob—" But checking the word on her lips, I seized her arm and gave
