"I fear," said Lord Garrow gravely, "that your mind is disturbed by a
question which you must soon--very soon, my dearest child--answer."

"Papa, I cannot."

"Surely you will gratify me so far as to take time before you object to
what might possibly be most desirable."

"It may be desirable enough, but is it right?"

"Right," repeated her father, with exasperation. "How could it be
otherwise than right to marry a man of Marshire's position, means,
stamp, and general fitness? You would be in possession of a station
where your interest would be as independent as your spirit. Nothing
could have been more brilliant, or flattering, or more cordial than his
offer. I argue against my natural selfishness for your welfare. I don't
wish to part with you, but I must consider your future."

He spoke with energy, and Sara knew, from the length and substance of
the speech, that the subject had been for some time very near his heart.
She resolved, on the instant, not to fail him; but as she foresaw his
crowning satisfaction, she permitted herself the luxury of prolonging
his suspense.

"I do not love him," said she.

"In marriage one does not require an unconquerable love but an
invincible sympathy."

"An invincible sympathy!" she exclaimed. "I have had that for certain
friends--for one or two, at any rate. For Robert Orange, as an example."

"That man again? Why do you dwell upon him?"

"He is interesting, he has force, and, as for origin, do people ever
repeat pleasant facts about a neighbour's pedigree? I believe that his
family is every bit as good as ours. His second name is de Hausee. No
one can pretend that we are even so good as a genuine de Hausee. We may
make ourselves ridiculous!"

"Let me entreat you to guard against these inequalities in your
character. To-day I could even accuse you of levity. Dearest Sara,
Marshire is hardly the man to be kept waiting for his reply."

"I am not well," said Sara, almost in tears. "There are hours when I
would not give my especial blessings for any other earthly happiness,
and then, a moment after, the things which pleased me most become
vexations, all but intolerable!"

"How little importance, then, should we attach to our caprices, when we
know, by experience, how short is the pleasure and displeasure they can
give," was the careful reply.

"Caprices!" said Sara, "yes, you are right. My mind gets weary,
disgusted, and dismayed. But the soul is never bored--never tired.