Mr.Tyrrel already suspected the existence of that passion which she had thoughtlessly imbibed.

His imagination, ingenious in torment, suggested to him all the different openings in conversation, in which she would have introduced the praise of Mr.Falkland, had she not been placed under this unnatural restraint.

Her present reserve upon the subject was even more insufferable than her former loquacity.

All his kindness for this unhappy orphan gradually subsided.

Her partiality for the man who was the object of his unbounded abhorrence, appeared to him as the last persecution of a malicious destiny.