recommend
him."

"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Vincy, "you seemed as pleased as could be
about it. It's true, I wasn't at home; but Rosamond told me you hadn't
a word to say against the engagement. And she has begun to buy in the
best linen and cambric for her underclothing."

"Not by my will," said Mr. Vincy. "I shall have enough to do this
year, with an idle scamp of a son, without paying for wedding-clothes.
The times are as tight as can be; everybody is being ruined; and I
don't believe Lydgate has got a farthing. I shan't give my consent to
their marrying. Let 'em wait, as their elders have done before 'em."

"Rosamond will take it hard, Vincy, and you know you never could bear
to cross her."

"Yes, I could. The sooner the engagement's off, the better. I don't
believe he'll ever make an income, the way he goes on. He makes
enemies; that's all I hear of his making."

"But he stands very high with Mr. Bulstrode, my dear. The marriage
would please _him_, I should think."

"Please the deuce!" said Mr. Vincy. "Bulstrode won't pay for their
keep. And if Lydgate thinks I'm going to give money for them to set up
housekeeping, he's mistaken, that's all. I expect I shall have to put
down my horses soon. You'd better tell Rosy what I say."

This was a not infrequent procedure with Mr. Vincy--to be rash in
jovial assent, and on becoming subsequently conscious that he had been
rash, to employ others in making the offensive retractation. However,
Mrs. Vincy, who never willingly opposed her husband, lost no time the
next morning in letting Rosamond know what he had said. Rosamond,
examining some muslin-work, listened in silence, and at the end gave a
certain turn of her graceful neck, of which only long experience could
teach you that it meant perfect obstinacy.

"What do you say, my dear?" said her mother, with affectionate
deference.

"Papa does not mean anything of the kind," said Rosamond, quite calmly.
"He has always said that he wished me to marry the man I loved. And I
shall marry Mr. Lydgate. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his
consent. And I hope we shall have Mrs. Bretton's house."

"Well, my dear, I shall leave you to manage your papa. You always do
manage everybody. But if we ever do go and get damask, Sadler's is the
place--far better than Hopkins's. Mrs. Bretton's is very large, though:
I should love you to have such a house; but it will take a great deal
of furniture--carpeting a