"Poor Miss Milly!" she sobbed at last; "she's just about as blind as I was, and she'll only find it out when it's too late." VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER ELEVEN. ANOTHER EVENING AT THE DOCTOR'S. "But--but I don't like it, my dear," said Mrs Luttrell, wiping her eyes, and looking up at the doctor, as he stood rubbing his hands softly, to get rid of the harshness produced by freshly-dug earth used for potting. "Neither do I," said the doctor calmly. "But why should she choose him of all men?" sighed Mrs Luttrell. "I never thought Millicent the girl to be taken by a man only for his handsome face. I was not when I was young!" "Which is saying that I was precious ugly, eh?" "Indeed you were the handsomest man in Castor!" cried Mrs Luttrell proudly; "but you were the cleverest too, and--dear, dear!--what a little while ago it seems!" "Gently, gently, old lady!" said the doctor, tenderly kissing the wrinkled forehead that was raised towards him. "Well, heaven's blessing be upon her, my dear, and may her love be as evergreen as ours." Mrs Luttrell rose and laid her head upon his shoulder, and stood there, with a happy, peaceful look upon her pleasant face, although it was still wet with tears. "That's what I'm afraid of," she sighed; "and it would be so sad." "Ah, wife!" said the doctor, walking slowly up and down the room, with his arm about Mrs Luttrell's waist, "it's one of Nature's mysteries. We can't rule these things. Look at Milly. Some girls begin love-making at seventeen, ah, and before! and here she went calmly on to four-and-twenty untouched, and finding her pleasure in her books and music, and home-life." "As good and affectionate a girl as ever breathed!" cried Mrs Luttrell. "Yes, my dear; and then comes the man, and he has but to hold up his finger and say `Come,' and it is done." "But she might have had Sir Gordon, and he is rich, and then she would have been Lady Bourne!" "He was too old, my dear, too old. She looked upon him like a child would look up to her father." "Well, then, Mr Bayle, the best of men, I'm sure; and he is well off too." "Too young, old lady, too young. I've watched them together hundreds of times. Milly always petted and patronised him, and treated him as if he were a younger brother, of whom she was very fond." "Heigho! Oh dear me!" sighed Mrs Luttrell. "But I don't like him-- this Mr Hallam. I never thought when Millicent was a baby that she would ever enter into an engagement like this. Can't we break it off?" The doctor shook his head. "I don't like it, mother. Hallam is the last man I should have chosen for her; but we must make the best of it. He has won her; and she is not a child, but a calm, thoughtful woman." "Yes, that's the worst of it," sighed Mrs Luttrell; "she is so thoughtful and calm and dignified, that I never can look upon her now as my little girl. I always seem to be talking to a superior woman, whose judgment I must respect. But this is very sad!"