I presume he inherits them." "Oh, never mind his estates," said Rosa, "he dances like an angel, and gossips charmingly, and IS so nice." Christopher Staines pined for this girl in silence: his fine frame got thinner, his pale cheek paler, as she got rosier and rosier; and how?
Why, by following the very advice she had snubbed him for giving her.

At last, he heard she had been the belle of a ball, and that she had been seen walking miles from home, and blooming as a Hebe.

Then his deep anxiety ceased, his pride stung him furiously; he began to think of his own value, and to struggle with all his might against his deep love.
Sometimes he would even inveigh against her, and call her a fickle, ungrateful girl, capable of no strong passion but vanity.

Many a hard term he applied to her in his sorrowful solitude; but not a word when he had a hearer.

He found it hard to rest: he kept dashing up to London and back.