For a moment he reflected whether, as her cousin, it was not his duty to kiss her.

It was a matter as to which he had doubt,--as is the case with many male cousins; but ultimately he resolved that if he kissed her at all he would not kiss her in that light, and so he again refrained.

"Good-bye," he said, putting out his great hand to her.
"Good-bye, Will, and God bless you." I almost think he might have kissed her, asking himself no questions as to the light in which it was done.
As he turned from her he saw the tears in her eyes; and as he sat in the gig, thinking of them, other tears came into his own.

By heaven, he would have her yet! He was a man who had not read much of romance.
To him all the imagined mysteries of passion had not been made common by the perusal of legions of love stories;--but still he knew enough of the game to be aware that women had been won in spite, as it were, of their own teeth.

He knew that he could not now run away with her, taking her off by force; but still he might conquer her will by his own.