"I do not see that what she wishes has much to do with it," said Sir Philip, very stiffly. "Miss Colwyn is suffering under an injustice. I ask you to repair that injustice. I really do not see how you can refuse." Margaret looked as if she were about to make some mutinous reply; then she compressed her lips and lowered her eyes for a few seconds. "I will ask mamma what she thinks," she said at last, in her usual even tones. "Why should you ask her?" said Sir Philip, impetuously. "What consultation is needed, when I simply beg you to be your own true self--that noble, generous self that I am sure you are! Margaret, don't disappoint me!" "I didn't know," said the girl, with proud deliberateness, "that you had any special interest in the matter, Sir Philip." "I have this interest--that I love you with all my heart, Margaret, and hope that you will let me call you my wife one day. It is this love, this hope, which makes me long to think of you as perfect--always noble and self-sacrificing and just! Margaret, you will not forbid me to hope?" He had chosen a bad time for his declaration of love. He saw this, and his accent grew more and more supplicating, for he perceived that the look of repulsion, which he knew and hated, was already stealing into Margaret's lovely eyes. She stood as if turned into stone, and did not answer a word. And it was on this scene that Lady Caroline broke at that moment--a scene which, at first sight, gave the mother keen pleasure, for it had all the orthodox appearance of love-making: the girl, silent, downcast, embarrassed; the man passionate and earnest, with head bent towards her fair face, and hands outstretched in entreaty. But poor Lady Caroline was soon to be undeceived, and her castle in the air to come tumbling down about her ears. CHAPTER XVI. SIR PHILIP'S OPINION. "Is anything the matter?" said Lady Caroline, suavely. She had been undecided for a minute as to whether she had not better withdraw unseen, but the distressed expression on her-daughter's face decided her to speak. She might at least prevent Margaret from saying anything foolish. Sir Philip drew back a little. Margaret went--almost hurriedly--up to her mother, and put her hand into Lady Caroline's. "Will you tell him? will you explain to him, please?" she said. "I do not want to hear any more: I would rather not. We could never understand each other, and I should be very unhappy." Sir Philip made an eager gesture, but Lady Caroline silenced him by an entreating glance and then looked straight into her daughter's eyes. Their limpid hazel depths were troubled now: tears were evidently very near, and Lady Caroline detested tears. "My darling child," she said, "you must not agitate yourself. You shall hear nothing that you do not want to hear. Sir Philip would never say anything that would pain you." "I have asked her to be my wife," said Sir Philip, very quietly, "and I hope that she will not refuse to hear me say that, at least."