“ ‘It is not so,’ cried she with transport: ‘if you had loved me, you would have distinguished my real sentiments; you would have been prepossessed with them, you would have flattered yourself, that your perseverance would in time get the better of my pride: but you grew tired, you have abandoned me, and perhaps in the very moment⁠—’ At this word Cydalisa stopped short, a sigh slipt from her, and her eyes were wet.

“ ‘Speak, madam,’ said I, ‘make an end. If my tenderness lasted still, notwithstanding your rigorous treatment, could you⁠—’

“ ‘I can do nothing, you do no longer love me, and Marteza waits for you.’

“ ‘If Marteza was indifferent to me; if Cydalisa was dearer to me than ever, what would you do?’

“ ‘It would be folly to explain myself on suppositions.’