"The eldest is Lady Dorothy Crawford.

The beautiful, pale girl I do not know." "I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have come to marry, is she not ?" "Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly.
"You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners.
"I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied.
"Why ?" asked Manners.
"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty." "That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir John, with a low laugh.
"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the difficulty with which great beauties are won.

But I continued, "A woman of moderate beauty makes a safer wife, and in the long run is more comforting than one who is too attractive." "You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners, laughingly.
"And a liar," I muttered to myself.

I felt sure, however, that I should never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you, even at this early stage in my history, that I was right in my premonition.

I did not marry her.
"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your relatives," said Manners.
"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if we do not meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing.