reat
thing for the daughter of a parish clergyman. We have seen in what
manner the happy girl's mother communicated the fact to Lady Lufton,
hiding, as it were, her pride under a veil; and we have seen also how
meekly the happy girl bore her own great fortune, applying herself
humbly to the packing of her clothes, as though she ignored her own
glory. But nevertheless there was triumph at Plumstead Episcopi.
The mother, when she returned home, began to feel that she had been
thoroughly successful in the great object of her life. While she was
yet in London she had hardly realized her satisfaction, and there
were doubts then whether the cup might not be dashed from her lips
before it was tasted. It might be that even the son of the Marquess
of Hartletop was subject to parental authority, and that barriers
should spring up between Griselda and her coronet; but there had
been nothing of the kind. The archdeacon had been closeted with the
marquess, and Mrs. Grantly had been closeted with the marchioness;
and though neither of those noble persons had expressed themselves
gratified by their son's proposed marriage, so also neither of them
had made any attempt to prevent it. Lord Dumbello was a man who had
a will of his own--as the Grantlys boasted amongst themselves. Poor
Griselda! the day may perhaps come when this fact of her lord's
masterful will may not to her be matter of much boasting. But in
London, as I was saying, there had been no time for an appreciation
of the family joy. The work to be done was nervous in its nature,
and self-glorification might have been fatal; but now, when they were
safe at Plumstead, the great truth, burst upon them in all its
splendour.

Mrs. Grantly had but one daughter, and the formation of that child's
character and her establishment in the world had been the one main
object of the mother's life. Of Griselda's great beauty the Plumstead
household had long been conscious; of her discretion also, of her
conduct, and of her demeanour there had been no doubt. But the father
had sometimes hinted to the mother that he did not think that Grizzy
was quite so clever as her brothers. "I don't agree with you at all,"
Mrs. Grantly had answered. "Besides, what you call cleverness is not
at all necessary in a girl; she is perfectly lady-like; even you
won't deny that." The archdeacon had never wished to deny it, and
was now fain to admit that what he had called cleverness was not
necessary in a young