“I must request, sir,” said Bella, taking refuge in a touch of timely resentment, “that I may not be questioned. You must excuse me if I decline to be cross-examined.”
“Oh, Miss Wilfer, this is hardly charitable. I ask you nothing but what your own emphasis suggests. However, I waive even that question. But what I have declared, I take my stand by. I cannot recall the avowal of my earnest and deep attachment to you, and I do not recall it.”
“I reject it, sir,” said Bella.
“I should be blind and deaf if I were not prepared for the reply. Forgive my offence, for it carries its punishment with it.”
“What punishment?” asked Bella.
“Is my present endurance none? But excuse me; I did not mean to cross-examine you again.”
“You take advantage of a hasty word of mine,” said Bella with a little sting of self-reproach, “to make me seem—I don’t know what. I spoke without consideration when I used it. If that was bad, I am sorry; but you repeat it after consideration, and that seems to me to be at least no better. For the rest, I beg it may be understood, Mr. Rokesmith, that there is an end of this between us, now and forever.”
“Now and forever,” he repeated.
“Yes. I appeal to you, sir,” proceeded Bella with increasing spirit, “not to pursue me. I appeal to you not to take advantage of your position in this house to make my position in it distressing and disagreeable. I appeal to you to discontinue your habit of making your misplaced attentions as plain to Mrs. Boffin as to me.”
“Have I done so?”