heart. "I know that I can bear it," she
said, "and that I can bear it without lasting unhappiness. Of course
I shall always love him, and must feel almost as you felt when you
lost my father."

In answer to this Mrs Dale could say nothing. She could not speak out
her thoughts about Crosbie, and explain to Lily that he was unworthy
of her love. Love does not follow worth, and is not given to
excellence;--nor is it destroyed by ill-usage, nor killed by blows
and mutilation. When Lily declared that she still loved the man
who had so ill-used her, Mrs Dale would be silent. Each perfectly
understood the other, but on that matter even they could not
interchange their thoughts with freedom.

"You must promise never to be tired of me, mamma," said Lily.

"Mothers do not often get tired of their children, whatever the
children may do of their mothers."

"I'm not so sure of that when the children turn out old maids. And I
mean to have a will of my own, too, mamma; and a way also, if it be
possible. When Bell is married I shall consider it a partnership, and
I shan't do what I'm told any longer."

"Forewarned will be forearmed."

"Exactly;--and I don't want to take you by surprise. For a year or
two longer, till Bell is gone, I mean to be dutiful; but it would be
very stupid for a girl to be dutiful all her life."

All of which Mrs Dale understood thoroughly. It amounted to an
assertion on Lily's part that she had loved once and could never love
again; that she had played her game, hoping, as other girls hope,
that she might win the prize of a husband; but that, having lost, she
could never play the game again. It was that inward conviction on
Lily's part which made her say such words to her mother. But Mrs
Dale would by no means allow herself to share this conviction. She
declared to herself that time would cure Lily's wound, and that her
child might yet be crowned by the bliss of a happy marriage. She
would not in her heart consent to that plan in accordance with which
Lily's destiny in life was to be regarded as already fixed. She
had never really liked Crosbie as a suitor, and would herself have
preferred John Eames, with all the faults of his hobbledehoyhood on
his head. It might yet come to pass that John Eames's love might be
made happy.

But in the meantime Lily, as I have said, had become strong in her
courage, and recommenced the work of living with no lackadaisical
self-assurance that because she had been mad