cess, did she feel that she
could still support herself with that boast? For, be it known, Mrs.
Grantly had a heart within her bosom and a faith within her heart.
The world, it is true, had pressed upon her sorely with all its
weight of accumulated clerical wealth, but it had not utterly crushed
her--not her, but only her child. For the sins of the father, are
they not visited on the third and fourth generation? But if any such
feeling of remorse did for awhile mar the fullness of Mrs. Grantly's
joy, it was soon dispelled by the perfect success of her daughter's
married life. At the end of the autumn the bride and bridegroom
returned from their tour, and it was evident to all the circle at
Hartletop Priory that Lord Dumbello was by no means dissatisfied with
his bargain. His wife had been admired everywhere to the top of his
bent. All the world at Ems, and Baden, and at Nice, had been stricken
by the stately beauty of the young viscountess. And then, too, her
manner, style, and high dignity of demeanour altogether supported
the reverential feeling which her grace and form at first inspired.
She never derogated from her husband's honour by the fictitious
liveliness of gossip, or allowed any one to forget the peeress in the
woman. Lord Dumbello soon found that his reputation for discretion
was quite safe in her hands, and that there were no lessons as to
conduct in which it was necessary that he should give instruction.
Before the winter was over she had equally won the hearts of all
the circle at Hartletop Priory. The duke was there and declared to
the marchioness that Dumbello could not possibly have done better.
"Indeed, I do not think he could," said the happy mother. "She sees
all that she ought to see, and nothing that she ought not."

And then, in London, when the season came, all men sang all manner
of praises in her favour, and Lord Dumbello was made aware that he
was reckoned among the wisest of his age. He had married a wife who
managed everything for him, who never troubled him, whom no woman
disliked, and whom every man admired. As for feast of reason and
for flow of soul, is it not a question whether any such flows and
feasts are necessary between a man and his wife? How many men can
truly assert that they ever enjoy connubial flows of soul; or that
connubial feasts of reason are in their nature enjoyable? But a
handsome woman at the head of your table, who knows how to dress, and
how to sit, and how to get