The major was startled by her eloquence, and by the indignant tone of voice in which it was expressed.  It seemed to tell him that she would give him no sympathy in that which he had come to say to her, and to upbraid him already in that he was not prepared to do the magnificent thing of which he had thought when he had been building his castles in the air.  Why should he not do the magnificent thing?  Miss Prettyman’s eloquence was so strong that it half convinced him that the Barchester Club and Mr Walker had come to a wrong conclusion after all.

‘And how does Miss Crawley bear it?’ he asked, desirous of postponing for a while any declaration of his own purpose.

’She is very unhappy, of course.  Not that she thinks evil of her father.’

‘Of course she does not think him guilty.’

‘Nobody thinks him so in this house, Major Grantly,’ said the little woman, very imperiously.  ’But Grace is, naturally enough, very sad;—­very sad indeed.  I do not think I can ask you to see her today.’

‘I was not thinking of it,’ said the major.

’Poor, dear girl!  It is a great trial for her.  Do you wish me to give her any message, Major Grantly?’

The moment had now come in which he must say that which he had come to say.  The little woman waited for an answer, and as he was there, within her power as it were, he must speak.  I fear that what he said will not be approved by any strong-minded person.  I fear that our lover will henceforth be considered by such a one as being a weak, wishy-washy man, who had hardly any mind of his own to speak of—­that he was a man of no account, as the poor people say.  ’Miss Prettyman, what message ought I to give her?’

’Nay, Major Grantly, how can I tell you that?  How can I put words into your mouth?’

‘It isn’t the words,’ he said; ‘but the feelings.’

‘And how can I tell the feelings in your heart?’

’Oh, as for that, I know what my feelings are.  I do love her with all my heart;—­I do, indeed.  A fortnight ago I was only thinking whether she would accept me, and whether she would mind having Edith to take care of.’

‘She is very fond of Edith—­very fond indeed.’

‘Is she?’ said the major, more distracted than ever.  Why should he not do the magnificent thing after all?  ’But it is a great charge for a girl when she marries.’

’It is a great charge—­a very great charge.  It is for you to think whether you should entrust so great a charge to one so young.’

‘I have no fear about that at all.’

’Nor should I have any—­as you ask me.  We have known Grace well, thoroughly, and are quite sure that she will do her duty in that state of life to which it may please God to call her.’