being much engrossed by pursuits about which I neither knew nor cared anything; but when he did, his attentions, either with a view to his amusement, or to some more serious object, were so obviously and perseveringly directed to me, that young and inexperienced as I was, even I could not be ignorant of their significance.  I felt more provoked by this odious persecution than I can express, and discouraged him with so much vigour, that I did not stop even at rudeness to convince him that his assiduities were unwelcome; but all in vain.

This had gone on for nearly a twelvemonth, to my infinite annoyance, when one day, as I was sitting at some needlework with my companion, Emily, as was my habit, in the parlour, the door opened, and my cousin Edward entered the room.  There was something, I thought, odd in his manner, a kind of struggle between shame and impudence, a kind of flurry and ambiguity, which made him appear, if possible, more than ordinarily disagreeable.

“Your servant, ladies,” he said, seating himself at the same time; “sorry to spoil your tete-a-tete; but never mind, I’ll only take Emily’s place for a minute or two, and then we part for a while, fair cousin.  Emily, my father wants you in the corner turret; no shilly, shally, he’s in a hurry.”  She hesitated.  “Be off—­tramp, march, I say,” he exclaimed, in a tone which the poor girl dared not disobey.

She left the room, and Edward followed her to the door.  He stood there for a minute or two, as if reflecting what he should say, perhaps satisfying himself that no one was within hearing in the hall.  At length he turned about, having closed the door, as if carelessly, with his foot, and advancing slowly, in deep thought, he took his seat at the side of the table opposite to mine.  There was a brief interval of silence, after which he said:—­

“I imagine that you have a shrewd suspicion of the object of my early visit; but I suppose I must go into particulars.  Must I?”

“I have no conception,” I replied, “what your object may be.”

“Well, well,” said he becoming more at his ease as he proceeded, “it may be told in a few words.  You know that it is totally impossible, quite out of the question, that an off-hand young fellow like me, and a good-looking girl like yourself, could meet continually as you and I have done, without an attachment—­a liking growing up on one side or other; in short, I think I have let you know as plainly as if I spoke it, that I have been in love with you, almost from the first time I saw you.”  He paused, but I was too much horrified to speak.  He interpreted my silence favourably.  “I can tell you,” he continued, “I’m reckoned rather hard to please, and very hard to hit.  I can’t say when I was taken with a girl before, so you see fortune reserved me—.”

Here the odious wretch actually put his arm round my waist:  the action at once restored me to utterance, and with the most indignant vehemence I released myself from his hold, and at the same time said:—­