Theodore Winthrop

“ His illusions were not gone. He still believed love was the one condition of marriage. Marriage without it this innocent youth deemed an outrage.
The latent love in his heart cried, “Shame!” when he heard Voltaire’s story. Indignant blood rushed to his cheeks, to his eyes indignant fire, and curl indignant to his moustache. He discharged a drop of ire by skimming a flat stone at a chattering chipmunk, enthroned on a pumpkin hard by. Then he began to put in trenchant queries.
“You are sure, Mr. Brothertoft, that your daughter does not love Kerr.” ”

“ Now there is a little boy of Destiny whose trade it is to go about knocking hearts together and striking Love, — that pretty pink flash, that rosy flash, which makes cheeks blush sweeter and eyes gleam brighter than they knew how to blush and gleam before, — that potent flash which takes hold of proper hearts and carbonizes them into diamonds of gleam unquenchable, with myriad facets and a smile on every one, — that keen flash which commands bad hearts to burn away into ugly little heaps of gray ashes. ”

“ It pains me greatly, my dear young friend, to talk harshly of my daughter’s mother. Perhaps after all she may mean kindly now. She may be mistaken in Kerr.”
“No,” said Peter. “No woman of the world can mistake such a fellow.” ”