this is merely a gallantry to me by way of practice on others."

"Sweet Lucy, if I may so call you," answered Mauleverer, with an ardent
gaze, "do not, I implore you, even for a moment, affect to mistake me!
Do not for a moment jest at what, to me, is the bane or bliss of life!
Dare I hope that my hand and heart, which I now offer you, are not
deserving of your derision?"

Lucy gazed on her adorer with a look of serious inquiry; Brandon still
appeared to sleep.

"If you are in earnest, my lord," said Lucy, after a pause, "I am truly
and deeply sorry. For the friend of my uncle I shall always have esteem;
believe that I am truly sensible of the honour you render me, when I add
my regret that I can have no other sentiment than esteem."

A blank and puzzled bewilderment for a moment clouded the expressive
features of Mauleverer; it passed away. "How sweet is your rebuke!" said
he. "Yes; I do not yet deserve any other sentiment than esteem. You are
not to be won precipitately; a long trial, a long course of attentions,
a long knowledge of my devoted and ardent love, alone will entitle me to
hope for a warmer feeling in your breast. Fix then your own time of
courtship, angelic Lucy!---a week, nay, a month! Till then, I will not
even press you to appoint that day which to me will be the whitest of my
life!"

"My lord!" said Lucy, smiling now no longer half archly, "you must pardon
me for believing your proposal can be nothing but a jest; but here, I
beseech you, let it rest forever. Do not mention this subject to me
again."