t this time was fully
determined to conquer the difficulties of which he had thought so
much, and to fix the earliest day which might be possible for his
marriage. The solemnity of that meeting in the field still hung
about him, and gave to his present feelings a manliness and a
truth of purpose which were too generally wanting to them. If only
those feelings would last! But now he talked to Mrs Dale about her
daughter, and about their future prospects, in a tone which he could
not have used had not his mind for the time been true to her. He
had never spoken so freely to Lily's mother, and at no time had Mrs
Dale felt for him so much of a mother's love. He apologised for the
necessity of some delay, arguing that he could not endure to see his
young wife without the comfort of a home of her own, and that he
was now, as he always had been, afraid of incurring debt. Mrs Dale
disliked waiting engagements,--as do all mothers,--but she could not
answer unkindly to such pleading as this.

"Lily is so very young," she said, "that she may well wait for a year
or so."

"For seven years," said Lily, jumping up and whispering into her
mother's ear. "I shall hardly be six-and-twenty then, which is not at
all too old."

And so the evening passed away very pleasantly.

"God bless you, Adolphus!" Mrs Dale said to him, as she parted with
him at her own door. It was the first time that she had called him by
his Christian name. "I hope you understand how much we are trusting
to you."

"I do,--I do," said he, as he pressed her hand. Then as he walked
back alone, he swore to himself, binding himself to the oath with
all his heart, that he would be true to those women,--both to the
daughter and to the mother; for the solemnity of the morning was
still upon him.

He was to start the next morning before eight, Bernard having
undertaken to drive him over to the railway at Guestwick. The
breakfast was on the table shortly after seven; and just as the two
men had come down, Lily entered the room, with her hat and shawl. "I
said I would be in to pour out your tea," said she; and then she sat
herself down over against the teapot.

It was a silent meal, for people do not know what to say in those
last minutes. And Bernard, too, was there; proving how true is the
adage which says, that two are company, but that three are not. I
think that Lily was wrong to come up on that last morning; but she
would not hear of letting him start without se