Lily. If he don't write to you, I can't make him do
it." And so poor Lily went home discomforted.

But the letter came on the next morning, and all was right. According
to her judgment it lacked nothing, either in fulness or in affection.
When he told her how he had planned his early departure in order that
he might avoid the pain of parting with her on the last moment, she
smiled and pressed the paper, and rejoiced inwardly that she had
got the better of him as to that manoeuvre. And then she kissed the
words which told her that he had been glad to have her with him
at the last moment. When he declared that he had been happier at
Allington than he was at Courcy, she believed him thoroughly, and
rejoiced that it should be so. And when he accused himself of being
worldly, she excused him, persuading herself that he was nearly
perfect in this respect as in others. Of course a man living in
London, and having to earn his bread out in the world, must be more
worldly than a country girl; but the fact of his being able to love
such a girl, to choose such a one for his wife,--was not that alone
sufficient proof that the world had not enslaved him? "My heart is on
the Allington lawns," he said; and then, as she read the words, she
kissed the paper again.

In her eyes, and to her ears, and to her heart, the letter was a
beautiful letter. I believe there is no bliss greater than that which
a thorough love-letter gives to a girl who knows that in receiving it
she commits no fault,--who can open it before her father and mother
with nothing more than the slight blush which the consciousness of
her position gives her. And of all love-letters the first must be the
sweetest! What a value there is in every word! How each expression is
scanned and turned to the best account! With what importance are all
those little phrases invested, which too soon become mere phrases,
used as a matter of course. Crosbie had finished his letter by
bidding God bless her; "And you too," said Lily, pressing the letter
to her bosom.

"Does he say anything particular?" asked Mrs Dale.

"Yes, mamma; it's all very particular."

"But there's nothing for the public ear."

"He sends his love to you and Bell."

"We are very much obliged to him."

"So you ought to be. And he says that he went to church going through
Barchester, and that the clergyman was the grandfather of that Lady
Dumbello. When he got to Courcy Castle Lady Dumbello was there."

"What