It is one thing to be run through the arm,--which you must own I managed as dexterously as the best master of fence could have done,--and lose a few drops of blood for a mistress, but it is another to brave the plague on her account." "I care for nothing," replied Wyvil; "I _will_ see her." "This is madness!" remonstrated Lydyard, still maintaining his grasp.
"What satisfaction will it afford you to witness her sufferings--to see the frightful ravages made upon her charms by this remorseless disease,--to throw her whole family into consternation, and destroy the little chance she may have of recovery, by your presence?
What good will this do?
No,--you must pay your wager to Sedley, and forget her." "I cannot forget her," replied Wyvil.

"My feelings have undergone a total change.

If I _am_ capable of real love, it is for her." "Real love!" exclaimed Lydyard, in an incredulous tone.

"If the subject were not too serious, I should laugh in your face.

No doubt you would marry her, and abandon your design upon the rich heiress, pretty Mistress Mallet, whom old Rowley recommended to your attention, and whom the fair Stewart has more than half-won for you ?" "I would," replied the other, energetically.
"Nay, then, you are more insane than I thought you," rejoined Lydyard, relinquishing his hold; "and the sooner you take the plague the better.
It may cure your present brain fever.