“As your friend,” she proceeded, “I am going to tell you, at once, in my own plain, blunt, downright language, that I have discovered your secret⁠—without help or hint, mind, from anyone else. Mr. Hartright, you have thoughtlessly allowed yourself to form an attachment⁠—a serious and devoted attachment I am afraid⁠—to my sister Laura. I don’t put you to the pain of confessing it in so many words, because I see and know that you are too honest to deny it. I don’t even blame you⁠—I pity you for opening your heart to a hopeless affection. You have not attempted to take any underhand advantage⁠—you have not spoken to my sister in secret. You are guilty of weakness and want of attention to your own best interests, but of nothing worse. If you had acted, in any single respect, less delicately and less modestly, I should have told you to leave the house without an instant’s notice, or an instant’s consultation of anybody. As it is, I blame the misfortune of your years and your position⁠—I don’t blame you . Shake hands⁠—I have given you pain; I am going to give you more, but there is no help for it⁠—shake hands with your friend, Marian Halcombe, first.”