ating himself gloomily on a chair
some paces from her. His daughter started as she saw him, for the first
tone of his voice betrayed he was more than usually irritable and
gloomy.

"Yes, father, I have," she replied, somewhat timidly.

"And what is your answer?"

"I fear you will be displeased, my dear father; but indeed I cannot
answer differently to last night."

"You are still resolved then to refuse Philip Clapperton?"

Lilla was silent.

"And pray may I ask the cause of your fastidiousness, Miss Grahame? Your
burst of tears last night made a very pretty scene no doubt, but they
gave me no proper answer."

"It is not only that I cannot love Mr. Clapperton, father, but I cannot
respect him."

"And pray why not? I tell you, Lilla, blunt, even coarse, if you like,
as he is, unpolished, hasty, yet he has a better heart by far than many
of those more elegant and attractive sprigs of nobility, amongst which
perhaps your romantic fancy has wandered, as being the only husbands
fitted for you."

"You do me injustice, father. I have never indulged in such romantic
visions, but I cannot willingly unite my fate with one in whom I see no
fixed principle of action--one who owns no guide but pleasure. His heart
may be good, I doubt it not; but I cannot respect one who spends his
whole life in fox-hunting, drinking, and all the pleasures peculiar to
the members of country clubs."

"In other words, a plain, honest-speaking, English gentleman is not fine
enough for you. What harm is there in the amusements you have
enumerated? Why should not a fox-hunter make as good a husband as any
other member of society?"

Lilla looked at her father in astonishment. These were not always his
sentiments she painfully thought.

"I do not mean to condemn these amusements, my dear father, but when
they are carried on without either principle or religion. How can I
venture to intrust my happiness to such a man?"

"And where do you expect to find either principle or religion now? Not
in those polished circles, where I can perceive your hopes are fixed.
Girl, banish such hopes. Not one amongst them would unite himself to the
sister of that dishonoured outcast Cecil Grahame."

Grahame's whole frame shook as he pronounced his son's name, but
sternness still characterised his voice.

"Never would I unite myself with one who considered himself degraded by
an union with our family, father, be assured," said Lilla, earnestly.
"My hopes ar