" She cried too vehemently to go on
thinking or speaking. Then she stopped, and said--
"Only an hour ago I was hoping--I don't know what I was
hoping--but I thought--oh! how I was deceived!--I thought he had
a true, deep, loving manly heart, which God might let me win; but
now I know he has only a calm, calculating head----"
If Jemima had been vehement and passionate before this
conversation with her father, it was better than the sullen
reserve she assumed now whenever Mr. Farquhar came to the house.
He felt it deeply; no reasoning with himself took off the pain he
experienced. He tried to speak on the subjects she liked, in the
manner she liked, until he despised himself for the unsuccessful
efforts. He stood between her and her father once or twice, in
obvious inconsistency with his own previously expressed opinions;
and Mr. Bradshaw piqued himself upon his admirable management, in
making Jemima feel that she owed his indulgence or forbearance to
Mr. Farquhar's interference; but Jemima--perverse, miserable
Jemima--thought that she hated Mr. Farquhar all the more. She
respected her father inflexible, much more than her father
pompously giving up to Mr. Farquhar's subdued remonstrances on
her behalf. Even Mr. Bradshaw was perplexed, and shut himself up
to consider how Jemima was to be made more fully to understand
his wishes and her own interests. But there was nothing to take
hold of as a ground for any further conversation with her.
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