How far Dorothy had been right or wrong in visiting Heywood, he did not even conjecture, not to say consider.

It was enough that she who had been to him like the blank in the centre of the African map, was now a region of marvels and possibilities, vague but not the less interesting, or the less worthy of beholding the interest she had awaked.

As to her loving the roundhead fellow, that would not stand long in the way.
In this period then of gloom and wretchedness, Dorothy became aware of a certain increase of attention on the part of her cousin.

This she attributed to kindness generated of pity.

But to accept it, and so confess that she needed it, would have been to place herself too much on a level with one whom she did not respect, while at the same time it would confirm him in whatever probably mistaken grounds he had for offering it.