vens! why should Lilian Ashleigh be a perpetual patient?
The sanitary resources of youth are incalculable. And--"

"Let me stop you; I cannot argue against a physician in love! I will
give up that point in dispute, remaining convinced that there is
something in Lilian's constitution which will perplex, torment, and
baffle you. It was so with her father, whom she resembles in face and in
character. He showed no symptoms of any grave malady. His outward form
was, like Lilian's, a model of symmetry, except in this, that, like
hers, it was too exquisitely delicate; but when seemingly in the midst
of perfect health, at any slight jar on the nerves he would become
alarmingly ill. I was sure that he would die young, and he did so."

"Ay, but Mrs. Ashleigh said that his death was from brain-fever, brought
on by over-study. Rarely, indeed, do women so fatigue the brain. No
female patient, in the range of my practice, ever died of purely mental
exertion."

"Of purely mental exertion, no; but of heart emotion, many female
patients, perhaps? Oh, you own that! I know nothing about nerves; but I
suppose that, whether they act on the brain or the heart, the result
to life is much the same if the nerves be too finely strung for life's
daily wear and tear. And this is what I mean, when I say you and Lilian
will not suit. As yet, she is a mere child; her nature undeveloped, and
her affections therefore untried. You might suppose that you had won her
heart; she might believe that she gave it to you, and both be deceived.
If fairies nowadays condescended to exchange their offspring with those
of mortals, and if the popular tradition did not represent a fairy
changeling as an ugly peevish creature, with none of the grace of its
parents, I should be half inclined to suspect that Lilian was one of the
elfin people. She never seems at home on earth; and I do not think she
will ever be contented with a prosaic earthly lot. Now I have told you
why I do not think she will suit you. I must leave it to yourself to
conjecture how far you would suit her. I say this in due season, while
you may set a guard upon your impulse; while you may yet watch, and
weigh, and meditate; and from this moment on that subject I say no more.
I lend advice, but I never throw it away."

She came here to a dead pause, and began putting on her bonnet and
scarf, which lay on the table beside her. I was a little chilled by her
words, and yet more by the blunt, shrewd, ha