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 wit's 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?
Oh, mercy! shall I call this man?
Here, Jacob--' But checking the word on her lips, I seized her arm and gave it, I think, a pretty severe squeeze, for she shrank into herself with a faint cry of pain or terror; but the spirit within her was not subdued: instantly rallying, she continued, with well-feigned concern, 'What can I do for you?
Will you have some water--some brandy?
I daresay they have some in the public-house down there, if you'll let me run.' 'Have done with this nonsense!' cried I, sternly.

She looked confounded--almost frightened again, for a moment.

'You know I hate such jests,' I continued.
'Jests indeed! I wasn't jesting!' 'You were laughing, at all events; and I don't like to be laughed at,' returned I, making violent efforts to speak with proper dignity and composure, and to say nothing but what was coherent and sensible.