put it to herself, to bring misery and
disgrace into another family. But should Mr. Crawley be acquitted,
and should the marriage then take place, the archdeacon himself might
probably be got to forgive it. In either case there would be no
necessity for breaking up the house at Cosby Lodge. But her dear son
Henry, her best beloved, was obstinate and stiff-necked, and would
take no advice. "He is even worse than his father," she said, in her
short-lived anger, to her own father, to whom alone at this time she
could unburden her griefs, seeking consolation and encouragement.

It was her habit to go over to the deanery at any rate twice a week
at this time, and on the occasion of one of the visits so made, she
expressed very strongly her distress at the family quarrel which had
come among them. The old man took his grandson's part through and
through. "I do not at all see why he should not marry the young lady
if he likes her. As for money, there ought to be enough without his
having to look for a wife with a fortune."

"It is not a question of money, papa."

"And as to rank," continued Mr. Harding, "Henry will not at any rate
be going lower than his father did when he married you;--not so low
indeed, for at that time I was only a minor canon, and Mr. Crawley is
in possession of a benefice."

"Papa, all this is nonsense. It is indeed."

"Very likely, my dear."

"It is not because Mr. Crawley is only perpetual curate of
Hogglestock, that the archdeacon objects to the marriage. It has
nothing to do with that at all. At the present moment he is in
disgrace."

"Under a cloud, my dear. Let us pray that it may be only a passing
cloud."

"All the world thinks that he was guilty. And then he is such a
man;--so singular, so unlike anybody else! You know, papa, that I
don't think very much of money, merely as money."

"I hope not, my dear. Money is worth thinking of, but it is not worth
very much thought."

"But it does give advantages, and the absence of such advantages must
be very much felt in the education of a girl. You would hardly wish
Henry to marry a young woman who, from want of money, had not been
brought up among ladies. It is not Miss Crawley's fault, but such has
been her lot. We cannot ignore these deficiencies, papa."

"Certainly not, my dear."

"You would not, for instance, wish that Henry should marry a
kitchen-maid."

"But is Miss Crawley a kitchen-maid, Susan?"

"I don't quite say that."

"I