"'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. A curious silence ensued. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. You observe that I am, as usual, fairly cheerful, and moderately amiable. “It is very doubtful,” he said. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. Gianfrancesco never suspected that I had my own reasons for wanting you for my wife.
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