You distress my mother." "If I do not distress _you_, I will stay," resumed Wyvil, with an imploring look.
"You _do_ distress me," she answered, averting her gaze.
"Nay, then, I must tear myself away," he rejoined.

"I shall return shortly, and trust to find your father less flinty-hearted than he is represented." He would have clasped Amabel in his arms, and perhaps snatched a kiss, if her mother had not rushed between them.
"No more familiarities, sir," she cried angrily; "no court manners here.
If you look to wed my daughter, you must conduct yourself more decorously; but I can tell you, you have no chance--none whatever." "Time will show," replied Wyvil, audaciously.

"You had better give her to me quietly, and save me the trouble of carrying her off,--for have her I will." "Mercy on us!" cried Mrs.Bloundel, in accents of alarm; "now his wicked intentions are out." "Fear nothing, mother," observed Amabel, coldly.

"He will scarcely carry me off without my own consent; and I am not likely to sacrifice myself for one who holds me in such light esteem." "Forgive me, Amabel," rejoined Wyvil, in a voice so penitent that it instantly effaced her displeasure; "I meant not to offend.

I spoke only the language of distraction.