in the Greshamsbury household, was the marriage of
Beatrice. Lady Arabella had to supply the trousseau for her daughter;
the squire had to supply the money for the trousseau; Mr Gazebee had
the task of obtaining the money for the squire. While this was going
on, Mr Gresham was not anxious to talk to his son, either about his
own debts or his son's love. There would be time for these things
when the marriage-feast should be over.

So thought the father, but the matter was precipitated by Frank. He
also had put off the declaration which he had to make, partly from
a wish to spare the squire, but partly also with a view to spare
himself. We have all some of that cowardice which induces us to
postpone an inevitably evil day. At this time the discussions as
to Beatrice's wedding were frequent in the house, and at one of
them Frank had heard his mother repeat the names of the proposed
bridesmaids. Mary's name was not among them, and hence had arisen his
attack on his sister.

Lady Arabella had had her reason for naming the list before her son;
but she overshot her mark. She wished to show him how totally Mary
was forgotten at Greshamsbury; but she only inspired him with a
resolve that she should not be forgotten. He accordingly went to his
sister; and then, the subject being full on his mind, he resolved at
once to discuss it with his father.

"Sir, are you at leisure for five minutes?" he said, entering the
room in which the squire was accustomed to sit majestically, to
receive his tenants, scold his dependants, and in which, in former
happy days, he had always arranged the meets of the Barsetshire hunt.

Mr Gresham was quite at leisure: when was he not so? But had he been
immersed in the deepest business of which he was capable, he would
gladly have put it aside at his son's instance.

"I don't like to have any secret from you, sir," said Frank; "nor,
for the matter of that, from anybody else"--the anybody else was
intended to have reference to his mother--"and, therefore, I would
rather tell you at once what I have made up my mind to do."

Frank's address was very abrupt, and he felt it was so. He was rather
red in the face, and his manner was fluttered. He had quite made up
his mind to break the whole affair to his father; but he had hardly
made up his mind as to the best mode of doing so.

"Good heavens, Frank! what do you mean? you are not going to do
anything rash? What is it you mean, Frank?"

"I don't think