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 which 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.

Major Grantly went back to the inn and saw his horse fed, and smoked
a cigar, and the