as your bag."

Crosbie smiled, and made himself pleasant, and said a few flattering
words. A man who intends to take some very decided step in an hour or
two generally contrives to bear himself in the meantime as though the
trifles of the world were quite sufficient for him. So he praised the
squire's game; said a good-natured word as to Dingles, and bantered
himself as to his own want of skill. Then all went merry, not quite
as a marriage bell; but still merry enough for a party of three
gentlemen.

But Crosbie's resolution was fixed; and as soon, therefore, as the
old butler was permanently gone, and the wine steadily in transit
upon the table, he began his task, not without some apparent
abruptness. Having fully considered the matter, he had determined
that he would not wait for Bernard Dale's absence. He thought
it possible that he might be able to fight his battle better in
Bernard's presence than he should do behind his back.

"Squire," he began. They all called him squire when they were on good
terms together, and Crosbie thought it well to begin as though there
was nothing amiss between them. "Squire, of course I am thinking a
good deal at the present moment as to my intended marriage."

"That's natural enough," said the squire.

"Yes, by George! sir, a man doesn't make a change like that without
finding that he has got something to think of."

"I suppose not," said the squire. "I never was in the way of getting
married myself, but I can easily understand that."

"I've been the luckiest fellow in the world in finding such a girl as
your niece--" Whereupon the squire bowed, intending to make a little
courteous declaration that the luck in the matter was on the side
of the Dales. "I know that," continued Crosbie. "She is exactly
everything that a girl ought to be."

"She is a good girl," said Bernard.

"Yes; I think she is," said the squire.

"But it seems to me," said Crosbie, finding that it was necessary to
dash at once headlong into the water, "that something ought to be
said as to my means of supporting her properly."

Then he paused for a moment, expecting that the squire would speak.
But the squire sat perfectly still, looking intently at the empty
fireplace and saying nothing. "Of supporting her," continued Crosbie,
"with all those comforts to which she has been accustomed."

"She has never been used to expense," said the squire. "Her mother,
as you doubtless know, is not a rich woman."