minutes passed in silence—at length Mr. Temple began.
"I am truly sorry—"
"My dear," interrupted his wife.
"I am sure you will be very glad—"
"Nay," again rejoined the lady, "it is presuming too much on Mr. Forrester's kindness to suppose that he will take an interest in our affairs."
Mr. Forrester hastened to assure her he took the very warmest.
"My daughter Elizabeth," said the old gentleman.
"Good heavens!" thought Cecil, "he is not going to ask me what my intentions are! I am sure I can't tell him."
"My daughter Elizabeth,"—how the words were bolted out!—"is going to be married."
"My dear, how could you be so abrupt?" ejaculated the lady.
As if to give his visiter time to recover the shock, Mr. Temple went on rapidly, "To a son of a very old friend of mine—Charles Forsyth—you saw him last night— very fine young man; he made her an offer this very morning, before breakfast."
"My love, you need not be so particular."
Forrester, who, to tell the truth, had no stronger feeling on the subject than surprise—perhaps a little mortification—now offered his congratulations. Not being very desirous of encountering the fair fabricator of the deceiving initials, the betrothed of
