a word to her mother.  ’Might I not ask to go back to Miss Prettyman’s now, mamma?’ ’I think, dear, you had better wait till things are a little settled.  Papa is to hear again from the dean very soon.  You see they are all in great sorrow at Barchester about poor Mr Harding’s death.’  ‘Grace!’ said Jane, rushing into the house almost speechless, at that moment, ‘here he is!—­on horseback.’  I do not know why Jane should have talked about Major Grantly as simply ‘he’.  There had been no conversation among the sisters to justify her in such a mode of speech.  Grace had not a moment to put two and two together, so that she might realise the meaning of what her mother had said; but, nevertheless, she felt at the moment that the man, coming as he had done now, had come with all commendable speed.  How foolish she had been with her wretched impatience!

There he was certainly, tying his horse to the railing.  ’Mamma, what am I to say to him?’

’Nay, dear; he is your own friend—­of your own making.  You must say what you think fit.’

‘You are not going?’

’I think we had better, dear.  Then she went, and Jane with her, and Jane opened the door for Major Grantly.  Mr Crawley himself was away, at Hoggle End, and did not return till after Major Grantly had left the parsonage.  Jane, as she greeted the grand gentleman, whom she had seen and no more than seen, hardly knew what to say to him.  When, after a minute’s hesitation, she told him that Grace was in there—­pointing to the sitting-room door, she felt that she had been very awkward.  Henry Grantly, however, did not, I think, feel her awkwardness, being conscious of some small difficulties of his own.  When, however, he found that Grace was alone, the task before him at once lost half its difficulties.  ‘Grace,’ he said, ‘am I right to come to you now?’

‘I do not know,’ she said.  ‘I cannot tell.’

’Dearest Grace, there is no reason on earth now why you should not be my wife.’

‘Is there not?’

‘I know of none—­if you can love me.  You saw my father?’

‘Yes, I saw him.’

‘And you heard what he said?’

’I hardly remember what he said;—­but he kissed me, and I thought he was very kind.’

What little attempt Henry Grantly then made, thinking that he could do no better than follow closely the example of so excellent a father, need not be explained with minuteness.  But I think that his first effort was not successful.  Grace was embarrassed and retreated, and it was not till she had been compelled to give a direct answer to a direct question that she submitted to allow his arm round her waist.  But when she had answered that question she was almost more humble than becomes a maiden who has just been wooed and won.  A maiden who has been wooed and won, generally thinks that it is she who has conquered, and chooses to be triumphant accordingly.  But Grace was even mean enough to thank her lover.  ‘I do not know why you should be so good to me,’ she said.