But neither wealth nor grandeur possessed any sway over Mary’s well-regulated mind, and she turned from that species of happiness which she felt would be insufficient to satisfy the best affections of her heart.  “No,” thought she, “it is not in splendour and distinction that I shall find happiness; it is in the cultivation of the domestic virtues—­the peaceful joys of a happy home and a loved companion, that my felicity must consist.  Without these I feel that I should still be poor, were I mistress of millions;” and she took the first opportunity of acquainting Lord Glenallan with the nature of her sentiments.

He received the communication with painful surprise; but as he was one of those who do not easily divest themselves of an idea that has once taken possession of their brain, he seemed resolved to persevere in his quiet, though pointed attentions.

Lady Juliana’s anger at the discovery of her daughter’s refusal it is needless to describe—­it may easily be imagined; and poor Mary was almost heartbroken by the violence and duration of it.  Sometimes she wavered in her ideas as to whether she was doing right in thus resisting her mother’s wishes; and in the utmost distress she mentioned her scruples to Lady Emily.

“As to Lady Juliana’s wishes,” said her cousin, “they are mere soap-bubbles; but as to your own views—­why, really you are somewhat of a riddle to me.  I rather think, were I such a quiet, civil, well-disposed person as you, I could have married Lord Glenallan well enough.  He is handsome, good-natured, and rich; and though ’he is but a Lord, and nothing but a Lord,’ still there is a dash and bustle in twenty thousand a year that takes off from the ennui of a dull companion.  With five hundred a year, I grant you, he would be execrable.”

“Then I shall never marry a man with twenty thousand a year whom I would not have with five hundred.”

“In short, you are to marry for love—­that’s the old story, which, with all your wisdom, you wise, well-educated girls always end in.  Where shall I find a hero upon five hundred a year for you?  Of course he must be virtuous, noble, dignified, handsome, brave, witty.  What would you think of Charles Lennox?”

Mary coloured.  “After what passed, I would not marry Colonel Lennox; no”—­affecting to smile—­“not if he were to ask me, which is certainly the most unlikely of all things.”

“Ah! true, I had forgot that scrape.  No, that won’t do; it certainly would be most pitiful in you, after what passed.  Well, I don’t know what’s to be done with you.  There’s nothing for it but that you should take Lord Glenallan, with all his imperfections on his head; and, after all, I really see nothing that he wants but a little more brain, and as you’ll have the managing of him you can easily supply that deficiency.”

“Indeed,” answered Mary, “I find I have quite little enough for myself, and I have no genius whatever for managing.  I shall therefore never marry, unless I marry a man on whose judgment I could rely for advice and assistance, and for whom I could feel a certain deference that I consider due from a wife to her husband.”