"O my child!" said he, deeply distressed, "how could you hide this from me ?" "Hide what, papa ?" said the girl, looking the picture of unconsciousness.
"That you have been spitting blood." "Who told you that ?" said she, sharply.
"Wyman.

He is attending you." Rosa colored with anger.

"Chatterbox! He promised me faithfully not to." "But why, in Heaven's name?
What! would you trust this terrible thing to a stranger, and hide it from your poor father ?" "Yes," replied Rosa, quietly.
The old man would not scold her now; he only said, sadly, "I see how it is: because I will not let you marry poverty, you think I do not love you." And he sighed.
"O papa! the idea!" said Rosa.

"Of course, I know you love me.

It was not that, you dear, darling, foolish papa.