How far the reader may be satisfied
with the arguments which Edward was satisfied with, we can not pretend
to say; but Edward was young, and hardly knew how to extricate himself
from the cloak which necessity had first compelled him to put on.
Edward was already satisfied that he was not quite looked upon with
indifference by Patience Heatherstone; and he was not yet certain
whether it was not a grateful feeling that she had toward him more
than any other; that she believed him to be beneath her in birth, he
felt convinced, and therefore she could have no idea that he was
Edward Beverley. It was not till several days after he had made up his
mind that he had an opportunity of being with her alone, as Clara
Ratcliffe was their constant companion. However, one evening Clara
went out, and staid out so long, carelessly wrapped up, that she
caught cold; and the following evening she remained at home, leaving
Edward and Patience to take their usual walk unaccompanied by her.
They had walked for some minutes in silence, when Patience observed,
"You are very grave, Edward, and have been very grave ever since your
return; have you any thing to vex you beyond the failure of the
attempt."
"Yes, I have, Patience. I have much on my conscience, and do not know
how to act.
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