more among countesses and their daughters, because it would be out of the question that his wife should visit at their houses.  All the victories that he had ever won must be given up.  He was thinking of this even while the gig was going round the corner near the parsonage house, and while Lily’s eyes were still blessed with some view of his departing back; but he was thinking, also, that moment, that there might be other victory in store for him; that it might be possible for him to learn to like that fireside, even though babies should be there, and a woman opposite to him intent on baby cares.  He was struggling as best he knew how; for the solemnity which Lily had imparted to him had not yet vanished from his spirit.

“I hope that, upon the whole, you feel contented with your visit?” said Bernard to him, at last.

“Contented?  Of course I do.”

“That is easily said; and civility to me, perhaps, demands as much.  But I know that you have, to some extent, been disappointed.”

“Well; yes.  I have been disappointed as regards money.  It is of no use denying it.”

“I should not mention it now, only that I want to know that you exonerate me.”

“I have never blamed you;—­neither you, nor anybody else; unless, indeed, it has been myself.”

“You mean that you regret what you’ve done?”

“No; I don’t mean that.  I am too devotedly attached to that dear girl whom we have just left to feel any regret that I have engaged myself to her.  But I do think that had I managed better with your uncle things might have been different.”

“I doubt it.  Indeed I know that it is not so; and can assure you that you need not make yourself unhappy on that score.  I had thought, as you well know, that he would have done something for Lily;—­something, though not as much as he always intended to do for Bell.  But you may be sure of this; that he had made up his mind as to what he would do.  Nothing that you or I could have said would have changed him.”

“Well; we won’t say anything more about it,” said Crosbie.  Then they went on again in silence, and arrived at Guestwick in ample time for the train.

“Let me know as soon as you get to town,” said Crosbie.

“Oh, of course.  I’ll write to you before that.”

And so they parted.  As Dale turned and went, Crosbie felt that he liked him less than he had done before; and Bernard, also, as he was driving him, came to the conclusion that Crosbie would not be so good a fellow as a brother-in-law as he had been as a chance friend.  “He’ll give us trouble, in some way; and I’m sorry that I brought him down.”  That was Dale’s inward conviction in the matter.