Up to snuff!  Mary Thorne, his Mary Thorne, up to snuff!  To snuff too of such a very disagreeable description!

’I think, Sir Louis, that you are in mistake about this.  I think you will find that Mary will not be disposed to avail herself of the great advantages—­for great they undoubtedly are—­which you are able to offer to your intended wife.  If you will take my advice, you will give up thinking of Mary.  She would not suit you.’

’Not suit me!  Oh, but I think she just would.  She’s got no money, you mean?’

’No, I did not mean that.  It will not signify to you whether your wife has money or not.  You need not look for money.  But you should think of some one more nearly of your temperament.  I am quite sure that my niece would refuse you.’

These last words the doctor uttered with much emphasis.  His intention was to make the baronet understand that the matter was quite hopeless, and to induce him if possible to drop it on the spot.  But he did not know Sir Louis; he ranked him too low in the scale of human beings, and gave him no credit for any strength of character.  Sir Louis in his way did love Mary Thorne.  And could not bring himself to believe that Mary did not, or at any rate, would not soon return his passion.  He was, moreover, sufficiently obstinate, firm we ought perhaps to say—­for his pursuit in this case was certainly not an evil one,—­and he at once made up his mind to succeed in spite of the uncle.

‘If she consents, however, you will do so too?’ asked he.

‘It is impossible that she should consent,’ said the doctor.

’Impossible!  I don’t see anything at all impossible.  But if she does?’

‘But she won’t.’

’Very well,—­that’s to be seen.  But just tell me this, if she does, will you consent?’

’The stars would fall first.  It’s all nonsense.  Give it up, my dear friend; believe me you are only preparing unhappiness for yourself;’ and the doctor put his hand kindly on the young man’s arm.  ’She will not, cannot, accept such an offer.’

‘Will not! cannot!’ said the baronet, thinking over all the reasons which in his estimation could possibly be inducing the doctor to be so hostile to his views, and shaking the hand of his arm.  ’Will not! cannot!  But come, doctor, answer my question fairly.  If she’ll have me for better or worse, you won’t say aught against it; will you?’

’But she won’t have you; why should you give her and yourself the pain of a refusal?’

’Oh, as for that, I must stand my chance like another.  And as for her, why d——­, doctor, you wouldn’t have me believe that any young lady thinks it so very dreadful to have a baronet with ten thousand pounds a year at her feet, specially when that same baronet ain’t very old, nor yet particularly ugly.  I ain’t so green as that, doctor.’

‘I suppose she must go through with it, then,’ said the doctor, musing.