Cynthia turned scarlet.'"Made" is not the right word, I confess.Iliked you then - you were almost my only friend - and, if it had been a question of immediate marriage, I dare say I should never have objected.
But I know you better now; and you have persecuted me so of late, that I tell you once for all (as I have told you before, till I am sick of the very words), that nothing shall ever make me marry you.Nothing.I see there's no chance of escaping exposure and, I dare say, losing my character, and I know losing all the few friends I have.'
'Never me,' said Molly, touched by the wailing tone of despair that Cynthia was falling into.
'It is hard,' said Mr Preston.'You may believe all the bad things you like about me, Cynthia, but I don't think you can doubt my real, passionate disinterested love for you.'
'I do doubt it,' said Cynthia, breaking out with fresh energy.'Ah!
when I think of the self-denying affection I have seen - I have known -affection that thought of others before itself -- '
Mr Preston broke in at the pause she made.She was afraid of revealing too much to him.
'You do not call it love which has been willing to wait for years -to be silent while silence was desired - to suffer jealousy and to bear neglect, relying on the solemn promise of a girl of sixteen - for "solemn"say "flimsy," when that girl grows older.Cynthia, I have loved you, and I do love you, and I won't give you up.If you will but keep your word, and marry me, I'll swear I'll make you love me in return.'