complished governess. His evident
emotion startled and pained me in a much higher degree than I could have
easily accounted for even to myself. Mr. Harlowe was a widower, past his
first youth certainly, but scarcely more than two or three-and-thirty
years of age, wealthy, not ill-looking, and, as far as I knew, of average
character in society. Surely an excellent match, if it should come to
that, for an orphan girl rich only in fine talents and gentle affections.
But I could not think so. I disliked the man--_instinctively_ disliked
and distrusted him; for I could assign no very positive motive for my
antipathy.

"The reason why, I cannot tell,
But I don't like thee, Dr. Fell."

These lines indicate an unconquerable feeling which most persons have, I
presume, experienced; and which frequently, I think, results from a kind
of cumulative evidence of uncongeniality or unworthiness, made up of a
number of slight indices of character, which, separately, may appear of
little moment, but altogether, produce a strong, if undefinable, feeling
of aversion. Mr. Harlowe's manners were bland, polished, and insinuating;
his conversation was sparkling and instructive; but a cold sneer seemed
to play habitually about his lips, and at times there glanced forth a
concentrated, polished ferocity--so to speak--from his eyes, revealing
hard and stony depths, which I shuddered to think a being so pure and
gentle as Edith might be doomed to sound and fathom. That he was a man of
strong passions and determination of will, was testified by every curve
of his square, massive head, and every line of his full countenance.

My aversion--reasonable or otherwise, as it might be--was not shared by
Miss Willoughby; and it was soon apparent that, fascinated, intoxicated
by her extreme beauty (the man was, I felt, incapable of love in its
high, generous, and spiritual sense), Mr. Harlowe had determined on
offering his hand and fortune to the unportioned orphan. He did so, and
was accepted. I did not conceal my dislike of her suitor from Edith; and
my wife--who, with feminine exaggeration of the hints I threw out, had
set him down as a kind of polished human tiger--with tears intreated her
to avoid the glittering snare. We of course had neither right nor power
to push our opposition beyond friendly warning and advice; and when we
found, thanks to Lady Maldon, who was vehemently in favor of the
match--to, in Edith's position, the dazzling temptation of a