James Walsham still thought of her as the girl of twelve he had last seen, but Richard Horton knew her as almost a woman, and, although at first he had resolved to marry her as his uncle's heiress, he now really cared for her for herself.
On the visit before James had left home, Richard had felt certain that his cousin liked him; but, since that time, he had not only made no progress, but he felt that he had lost rather than gained ground.

The girl was always friendly with him, but it was the cool friendliness of a cousin, and, somehow, Richard instinctively felt James Walsham was the cause.
In vain he had angrily told himself that it was absurd to suppose that his cousin could care for this fellow, whom she had only seen as an awkward boy, who had been content to stop away from the house, and never go near her for weeks.

Still, though he told himself it was absurd, he knew that it was so.

When the conversation happened to turn upon James, she seldom took any part in it; but Richard knew that it was not from indifference as to the subject.

There was a soft flush on her cheek, a light in her eyes, which he had never been able to call up; and, many a time, he had ground his teeth in silent rage, when the squire and Mr.Wilks were discussing the news received in James's last letter, and expressing their hopes that, ere long, he would be back from foreign service.
Although by no means fond of encountering danger, Richard felt that he would gladly pick an open quarrel with the man he regarded as his rival, and shoot him like a dog--for in those days, duels were matters of everyday occurrence--but there was no possibility of doing this, at the present juncture; and, moreover, he knew that this would be the worst possible way of ridding himself of him; for, were James to fall by his hands, his chances of winning Aggie would be hopelessly extinguished.
"No," he said to himself, "that is out of the question; but I will do something.