"Beautiful? Well, perhaps. But if you have a jealous feeling, you were
never more mistaken. Lilian, I am convinced, does more than dislike him;
he has inspired her with repugnance, with terror. And much as I own I
like him, in his wild, joyous, careless, harmless way, do not think I
flatter you if I say that Mr. Margrave is not the man to make any girl
untrue to you,--untrue to a lover with infinitely less advantages than you
may pretend to. He would be a universal favourite, I grant; but there is
something in him, or a something wanting in him, which makes liking and
admiration stop short of love. I know not why; perhaps, because, with all
his good humour, he is so absorbed in himself, so intensely egotistical,
so light; were he less clever, I should say so frivolous. He could not
make love, he could not say in the serious tone of a man in earnest, 'I
love you.' He owned as much to me, and owned, too, that he knew not even
what love was. As to myself, Mr. Margrave appears rich; no whisper
against his character or his honour ever reached me. Yet were you out of
the question, and were there no stain on his birth, nay, were he as high
in rank and wealth as he is favoured by Nature in personal advantages, I
confess I could never consent to trust him with my daughter's fate. A
voice at my heart would cry, 'No!' It may be an unreasonable prejudice,
but I could not bear to see him touch Lilian's hand!"

"Did she never, then--never suffer him even to take her hand?"

"Never. Do not think so meanly of her as to suppose that she could be
caught by a fair face, a graceful manner. Reflect: just before she had
refused, for your sake, Ashleigh Sumner, whom Lady Haughton said 'no girl
in her senses could refuse;' and this change in Lilian really began before
we returned to L----,--before she had even seen Mr. Margrave. I am
convinced it is something in the reach of your skill as physician,--it is
on the nerves, the system. I will give you a proof of what I say, only