'I know that at the present moment they are in great trouble.'
Mrs Dale was going on, but she was interrupted by Major Grantly. 'That is just it,' he said. 'There are circumstances at present which make it almost impossible that I should go to Mr Crawley and ask his permission to address his daughter. I do not know whether you have heard the whole story?'
'As much, I believe, as Grace could tell me.'
'He is, I believe, in such a state of mental distress as to be hardly capable of giving me a considerate answer. And I should not know how to speak to him, or how not to speak to him, about this unfortunate affair.
But, Mrs Dale, you will, I think, perceive that the same circumstances make it imperative upon me to be explicit to Miss Crawley. I think I am the last man to boast of a woman's regard, but I had learned to think that I was not indifferent to Grace. If that be so, what must she think of me if I stay away from her now?'
'She understands too well the weight of the misfortune which has fallen upon her father, to suppose that anyone not connected with her can be bound to share it.'
'That is just it. She will think that I am silent for that reason. Ihave determined that that shall not keep me silent, and, therefore, Ihave come here. I may, perhaps, be able to bring comfort to her in her trouble. As regards my worldly position--though, indeed, it will not be very good--as hers is not good either, you will not think yourself bound to forbid me to see her on that head.'
'Certainly not. I need hardly say that I fully understand that, as regards money, you are offering everything where you can get nothing.'
'And you understand my feeling?'
'Indeed I do--and appreciate the great nobility of your love for Grace.
You shall see her here, if you wish it--and today, if you choose to wait.' Major Grantly said that he would wait and would see Grace on that afternoon. Mrs Dale again suggested that he should lunch with her, but this he declined. She then proposed that he should go across and call upon the squire, and thus consume his time. But to this he also objected. He was not exactly in humour, he said, to renew so old and so slight an acquaintance at that time. Mr Dale would probably have forgotten him, and would be sure to ask what had brought him to Allington. He would go and take a walk, he said, and come again at exactly half-past three. Mrs Dale again expressed her certainty that the young ladies would be back by that time, and Major Grantly left the house.
Mrs Dale when she was left alone could not but compare the good fortune that was awaiting Grace, with the evil fortune which had fallen on her own child. Here was a man who was at all points a gentleman. Such, at least, was the character which Mrs Dale at once conceded to him. And Grace had chanced to come across this man, and to please his eye, and satisfy his taste, and be loved by him. And the result of that chance would be that Grace would have everything given to her that the world has to give worth acceptance. She would have a companion for her life whom she could trust, admire, love, and of whom she could be infinitely proud. Mrs Dale was not at all aware whether Major Grantly might have five hundred a year to spend, or five thousand--or what sum intermediate between the two--nor did she give much of her thoughts at the moment to that side of the subject. She knew without thinking of it--or fancied that she knew, that there were means sufficient for comfortable living.
It was solely the nature and character of the man that was in her mind, and the sufficiency that was to be found in them for a wife's happiness.
But her daughter, her Lily, had come across a man who was a scoundrel, and, as the consequence of that meeting, all her life was marred! Could any credit be given to Grace for her success, or any blame attached to Lily for her failure. Surely not the latter! How was her girl to have guarded herself from a love so unfortunate, or have avoided the rock on which her vessel had been shipwrecked? Then many bitter thoughts passed through Mrs Dale's mind, and she almost envied Grace Crawley her lover.
Lily was contented to remain as she was, but Lily's mother could not bring herself to be satisfied that her child should fill a lower place in the world than other girls. It had ever been her idea--an ideal probably never absolutely uttered even to herself, but not the less practically conceived--that it is the business of a woman to be married.
That her Lily should have been won and not worn, had been, and would be, a trouble to her for ever.
