That afternoon before dinner he found his sister alone in the drawing-room. Lady Carbury had gone to her own room after hearing the distressing story of Paul Montague's love, and had not seen Hetta since. Hetta was melancholy, thinking of her mother's hard words,-- thinking perhaps of Paul's poverty as declared by her mother, and of the ages which might have to wear themselves out before she could become his wife; but still tinting all her thoughts with a rosy hue because of the love which had been declared to her. She could not but be happy if he really loved her. And she,--as she had told him that she loved him,--would be true to him through everything! In her present mood she could not speak of herself to her brother, but she took the opportunity of making good the promise which Marie Melmotte had extracted from her. She gave him some short account of the party, and told him that she had talked with Marie. 'I promised to give you a message,' she said.
'It's all of no use now,' said Felix.
'But I must tell you what she said. I think, you know, that she really loves you.'
'But what's the good of it? A man can't marry a girl when all the policemen in the country are dodging her.'
'She wants you to let her know what,--what you intend to do. If you mean to give her up, I think you should tell her.'
'How can I tell her? I don't suppose they would let her receive a letter.'
'Shall I write to her;--or shall I see her?'
'Just as you like. I don't care.'
'Felix, you are very heartless.'
'I don't suppose I'm much worse than other men;--or for the matter of that, worse than a great many women either. You all of you here put me up to marry her.'
'I never put you up to it.'
'Mother did. And now because it did not go off all serene, I am to hear nothing but reproaches. Of course I never cared so very much about her.'
'Oh, Felix, that is so shocking!'
'Awfully shocking, I dare say. You think I am as black as the very mischief, and that sugar wouldn't melt in other men's mouths. Other men are just as bad as I am,--and a good deal worse too. You believe that there is nobody on earth like Paul Montague.' Hetta blushed, but said nothing. She was not yet in a condition to boast of her lover before her brother, but she did, in very truth, believe that but few young men were as true-hearted as Paul Montague. 'I suppose you'd be surprised to hear that Master Paul is engaged to marry an American widow living at Islington.'