And she was right.
On such a matter there is no one to whom I can with propriety address myself, but to yourself.

Therefore I now ask you the question.

May I venture to have any hope ?" His voice was so solemn, and there was so much of eager seriousness in his face that Fanny could not bring herself to answer him with quickness.

The answer that was in her mind was in truth this: "How can you ask me to try to love a man who has but seventy pounds a year in the world, while I myself have nothing ?" But there was something in his demeanor--something that was almost grand in its gravity--which made it quite impossible that she should speak to him in that tone.

But he, having asked his question, waited for an answer; and she was well aware that the longer she delayed it, the weaker became the ground on which she was standing.
"It is quite impossible," she said at last.
"If it really be so--if you will say again that it is so after hearing me out to an end, I will desist.