"Then listen," said the Earl, sinking his voice almost to a whisper;—"the lady of whom I have spoken, is——"
"Lady Hatfield," observed Lascelles.
"What! you have guessed——"
"Simply because every one said last winter that you were dying for her," interrupted the doctor coolly; "and therefore I presume you have availed yourself of her ladyship's return to town to place your coronet at her feet."
"Yes—I do allude to Georgiana, whose professional attendant you are," cried the Earl. "And believe me when I solemnly declare that no sentiment of impertinent curiosity——"
"Never mind the motives," said the doctor: "let us keep to the facts. I have known Lady Hatfield for upwards of five years; and I can positively assure your lordship that there is not the slightest cause, physical or moral, with which I am acquainted, that can influence her conduct towards you."
"Then, what can this mystery be?" exclaimed Arthur, more perplexed than ever. "My God! must I again fall back upon the hypothesis of a woman's idle caprice—the theory of her unaccountable whims? Is she the victim of an idiosyncracy which she cannot control? and must I be made its sport?"
"Throughout the sphere of my extensive practice," observed Dr. Lascelles, "I know not a woman less likely to be swayed by idle caprice or unaccountable whims than Lady Hatfield. Her mind is strong—her intellect bright and uncharacterised by the slightest eccentricity. I have, however, frequently observed that her ladyship is the prey to a secret melancholy—that she has her dark moments, as one may denominate them; but at those times the vigour of her soul is not subdued to a degree that would produce so strange a result as a decision affecting her own happiness. You say she loves you——"
"I have not a doubt of the sincerity of her attachment!" cried the Earl emphatically.
"And yet she will not marry you?" said the doctor. "I cannot comprehend it."