oppose it. The nobler judgment that now expands all my reasonings,
approves and seconds my heart. No, no; do not smile so sarcastically.
This is not the voice of a blind and egotistical passion. Let me explain
myself if I can. I concede to you that Lilian's character is undeveloped;
I concede to you, that amidst the childlike freshness and innocence of her
nature, there is at times a strangeness, a mystery, which I have not yet
traced to its cause. But I am certain that the intellect is organically
as sound as the heart, and that intellect and heart will ultimately--if
under happy auspices--blend in that felicitous union which constitutes the
perfection of woman. But it is because she does, and may for years, may
perhaps always, need a more devoted, thoughtful care than natures less
tremulously sensitive, that my judgment sanctions my choice; for whatever
is best for her is best for me. And who would watch over her as I
should?"

"You have never yet spoken to Lilian as lovers speak?"

"Oh, no, indeed."

"And, nevertheless, you believe that your affection would not be
unreturned?"

"I thought so once; I doubt now,--yet, in doubting, hope. But why do you
alarm me with these questions? You, too, forebode that in this visit I
may lose her forever?"

"If you fear that, tell her so, and perhaps her answer may dispel your
fear."

"What! now, already, when she has scarcely known me a month. Might I not