He went on wi' Annie Coulson, William's sister, till he broke her heart; and sin then he's been on wi' others.' 'I dunnot believe a word on 't,' said Sylvia, standing up, all aflame.
'I niver telled a lie i' my life,' said Philip, almost choking with grief at her manner to him, and the regard for his rival which she betrayed.

'It were Willie Coulson as telled me, as solemn and serious as one man can speak to another; and he said it weren't the first nor the last time as he had made his own game with young women.' 'And how dare yo' come here to me wi' yo'r backbiting tales ?' said Sylvia, shivering all over with passion.
Philip tried to keep calm, and to explain.
'It were yo'r own mother, Sylvia, as knowed yo' had no brother, or any one to see after yo'; and yo' so pretty, so pretty, Sylvia,' he continued, shaking his head, sadly, 'that men run after yo' against their will, as one may say; and yo'r mother bade me watch o'er ye and see what company yo' kept, and who was following after yo', and to warn yo', if need were.' 'My mother niver bade yo' to come spying after me, and blaming me for seeing a lad as my feyther thinks well on.

An' I don't believe a word about Annie Coulson; an' I'm not going to suffer yo' to come wi' yo'r tales to me; say 'em out to his face, and hear what he'll say to yo'.' 'Sylvie, Sylvie,' cried poor Philip, as his offended cousin rushed past him, and upstairs to her little bedroom, where he heard the sound of the wooden bolt flying into its place.

He could hear her feet pacing quickly about through the unceiled rafters.

He sate still in despair, his head buried in his two hands.