“Apparently,” said the young lady, angrily, “_I_ was the only person whom it was deemed necessary to deceive. In the name of Pritchard, Lord Carthew asked me to marry him, and I told him I would think about it. I _did_ think about it, and I decided against him, but in the mean time he had had interviews with my father and mother in which he appears to have presented himself in the light of an accepted suitor. But I haven’t the slightest intention of marrying him. In fact,” she added, vigorously, “the very idea of it makes me _hate_ him!” “I really,” began the doctor, “can see nothing in the young gentleman’s manners or style to justify your dislike----” “It isn’t that!” she interrupted, eagerly. “Dr. Graham, you are a clever man--you understand men and women. Don’t you know quite well that it is possible to like people very much as friends, but to _loathe_ them in the suggested capacity of husbands or wives?” “Certainly, certainly. But in this case the match appears so exceptionally happy--however, the subject in discussion is your mamma’s health. You tell me you were talking over the proposed marriage with her. I suppose that she is in favor of it?” “She has set her heart upon it,” said Stella, with a sigh. “And as soon as I told her my objections she fainted.” “One thing is quite certain,” said Dr. Graham, emphatically. “If you wish to preserve her life, you must at least affect to fall in with her views for the present.” “But they want to marry me off at once,” she cried, desperately, “even before I am presented at Court!” “Well, well!” returned the doctor, soothingly, “I shouldn’t think your fate such a _very_ hard one, after all. The Earl of Northborough is one of the most distinguished statesmen in England, in high favor at Court, with a wife who brought him about a million, and Lord Carthew is the only son. All the beautiful and well-bred girls in London have been setting their caps at him for the past two years.” “You don’t understand!” she cried. “These things are nothing, less than nothing, to me. So far from coveting wealth and rank, I would avoid them. My ideal of marriage is quite--quite different.” She stopped short and blushed deeply. “I cannot make you understand,” she said again, and turned away. “I can understand two things, Miss Stella,” he answered, gravely; “caprice on the one hand, and duty on the other.” She turned sharply round and faced him. “Duty!” she repeated, coldly. “I don’t understand you.”