"What is the matter with my father?" she asked; "he seems to be angry
with you."
I looked at her--her eyes were so black, her look so kind, her mouth so
rosy, and her teeth so white that I told her all--my love, my suit to
her father, and his rough refusal. I could not help it--after all, it
was _his_ fault! He was not there: I determined to brave his anger.
Besides, there is nobody like timid persons for displaying courage under
certain circumstances.
My cousin said nothing; she only held down her eyes--while her cheeks
were as red as those of cherries in May.