She felt how very disinterested it was of a rich man like Mr. Huyton――clever, fashionable, admired, no doubt, in the world――to ask for the hand of a simple country maiden like herself, whose future fortune bore no proportion to his, and whose family could add nothing to his honor or influence. He might represent the county if he chose; he had discussed the subject several times with Mr. Duncan; he might, no doubt, win a wife from any noble family in the land; and yet he loved her, and asked her to marry him. The wonder of her mind at his making such a choice, so unequal in every respect as her modesty made her think it, was only surpassed by her astonishment at finding that she could not love him in return. Why not?――why could not all his good qualities, his ardent affection, and his kindness to her family, influence her to wish to be his wife? Why did the idea seem incompatible with happiness? and why did the notion of reigning at ‘the Ferns’ make her cling the closer to her duties and responsibilities at the Vicarage? Was it the mere idea of leaving those she loved? there was something in that; for she was not blinded by the fallacies of his arguments; she knew the separation would be more than nominal; she knew it must be real, because it ought to be so. Once mistress of ‘the Ferns,’ in how many new duties and cares should she not be involved, with which her old pursuits at Hurstdene would be incompatible; and once Mr. Huyton’s wife, his claims on her time and society would be paramount; and would he yield them to others? She was convinced he would not. It was true, he was at Hurstdene every day _now_, but then it would be different; and every future plan on which he now dwelt would call him in an opposite direction. She did not say to herself in words, or form a distinct idea in her mind, that he was innately selfish or self-willed; but it was this unexpressed thought and feeling which made her certain that his wife must make him her first and last object, if she would please him, and be at peace. Hilary could not have told why she mistrusted one who talked so well and acted so fairly; she had unconsciously explained it by a symbol to him when she dwelt on the peculiarities of her favorite plant; but she did not know that she was the Virginian creeper, he the wall which bore the fair appearance of stone, and was in truth only stucco, and that, to one of her nature, the effort to attach herself to him must be utterly vain.