d the squire: "I understand it. But that is just
what we want her to do. Why should she not spend a week in the same
house with an honest young man whom we all like."

"There are reasons why she would not wish it."

"Ah, exactly; the very reasons which should make us induce her to go
there if we can. Perhaps I had better tell you all. Lord De Guest has
taken him by the hand, and wishes him to marry. He has promised to
settle on him an income which will make him comfortable for life."

"That is very generous; and I am delighted to hear it,--for John's
sake."

"And they have promoted him at his office."

"Ah! then he will do well."

"He will do very well. He is private secretary now to their head man.
And, Mary, so that she, Lily, should not be empty-handed if their
marriage can be arranged, I have undertaken to settle a hundred a
year on her,--on her and her children, if she will accept him. Now
you know it all. I did not mean to tell you; but it is as well that
you should have the means of judging. That other man was a villain.
This man is honest. Would it not be well that she should learn to
like him? She always did like him, I thought, before that other
fellow came down here among us."

"She has always liked him--as a friend."

"She will never get a better lover."

Mrs Dale sat silent, thinking over it all. Every word that the squire
said was true. It would be a healing of wounds most desirable and
salutary; an arrangement advantageous to them all; a destiny for Lily
most devoutly to be desired,--if only it were possible. Mrs Dale
firmly believed that if her daughter could be made to accept John
Eames as her second lover in a year or two all would be well. Crosbie
would then be forgotten or thought of without regret, and Lily would
become the mistress of a happy home. But there are positions which
cannot be reached, though there be no physical or material objection
in the way. It is the view which the mind takes of a thing which
creates the sorrow that arises from it. If the heart were always
malleable and the feelings could be controlled, who would permit
himself to be tormented by any of the reverses which affection meets?
Death would create no sorrow, ingratitude would lose its sting; and
the betrayal of love would do no injury beyond that which it might
entail upon worldly circumstances. But the heart is not malleable;
nor will the feelings admit of such control.

"It is not possible for her," said Mr