to speak to you, but have not done so
from fear of offending you. Now the matter has come up by chance,
and it was impossible that what has occurred should pass by without
a word. I cannot conceive why the memory of that bad man should be
allowed to destroy your whole life."

"My life is not destroyed. My life is anything but destroyed. It is a
very happy life."

"But, my dear, if all that I hear is true, there is a most estimable
young man, whom everybody likes, and particularly your own family,
and whom you like very much yourself; and you will have nothing to
say to him, though his constancy is like the constancy of an old
Paladin,--and all because of this wretch who just now came in your
way."

"Mrs. Thorne, it is impossible to explain it all."

"I do not want you to explain it all. Of course I would not ask any
young woman to marry a man whom she did not love. Such marriages are
abominable to me. But I think that a young woman ought to get married
if the thing fairly comes in her way, and if her friends approve, and
if she is fond of the man who is fond of her. It may be that some
memory of what has gone before is allowed to stand in your way, and
that it should not be so allowed. It sometimes happens that a horrid
morbid sentiment will destroy a life. Excuse me, then, Lily, if I
say too much to you in my hope that you may not suffer after this
fashion."

"I know how kind you are, Mrs. Thorne."

"Here we are at home, and perhaps you would like to go in. I have
some calls which I must make." Then the conversation was ended, and
Lily was alone.

As if she had not thought of it all before! As if there was anything
new in this counsel which Mrs. Thorne had given her! She had received
the same advice from her mother, from her sister, from her uncle, and
from Lady Julia, till she was sick of it. How had it come to pass
that matters which with others are so private, should with her have
become the public property of so large a circle? Any other girl would
receive advice on such a subject from her mother alone, and there the
secret would rest. But her secret had been published, as it were, by
the town-crier in the High Street! Everybody knew that she had been
jilted by Adolphus Crosbie, and that it was intended that she should
be consoled by John Eames. And people seemed to think that they had
a right to rebuke her if she expressed an unwillingness to carry out
this intention which the public had so kindly arrang